Contract
For a while, David and I just stare at each other in silence. Then I rip the envelope out of his hands, and I'm about to tear it in half when I notice another small sheet of paper slide out of the envelope.
I read it aloud, "Please call A.I.O. once you receive this letter if you're still interested in the bot fights." I look further down the paper to see a phone number, "Should we call?"
"I don't know, doesn't it seem kind of unorthodox?...I mean to send a separate letter even after our entry was denied?"
"What other option do we have at this point?" I argue. He reluctantly nods and motions for the phone.
"Fine, but just make sure you know what you're getting yourself into..." He warns, turning and walking back to his room.
I cautiously dial the number on the phone, suspense building up inside of me with each number I press. The phone begins to ring, and I wait and listen. It feels like hours pass before someone answers, when in reality its barely been a minute.
"Hello, I was calling about the envelope I received, this number was shown..." I begin to talk, but then I quickly add, "This is Appareil Falcon."
"Yeah, this number is connected to a contract, like the letter said." The person on the other side of the phone says. I frantically scan through the letter, trying to find the part that mentioned anything about a contract. I find it, and begin to read.
If you do decide to call this number, you will be asked to sign a contract.
"What's the contract about?" I ask.
"If you would like to enter into the A.I.O. bot fights. All that will be needed is the players signature, there should be a place to sign on your screen right now." The voice says, and I look down to see a place to sign, and before I realize it; my finger is already a mere centimeter away from the screen.
"What's the prize?" I ask.
"For robots, it's the same prize; becoming human."
"What about for players?" I ask.
"I'm afraid that's confidential information, which is only shared among those who enter into the fights. Are you going to sign the contract or not?" The voice asks impatiently.
I take a deep breath, then, without thinking much about it; I quickly scribble down my signature and hit enter. The person on the other side hangs up, and all that's left on my screen is a date a location saying when and where I need to be for round one.
I sigh and whisper to myself, "What have I gotten myself into?"
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