I was seeing the light. It was spinning circles around my head. The machine attached to it making buzzing noises. The light making another spin, shining its light into my eyes. It was a digitizer. That was what Stew had told me before ordering me to stand into the machine. It looked like a silo. Its insides round and mirrored. A lot of room for activities other than standing around. Most taken up by my sizable body. Stew gave me simple orders. Go in, stand still for ten minutes. Come out. I had been doing great for the past nine and well underway of completing the task till the end. I hope Stew was proud.

The Machine beeped followed by a loud noise. The light that had been spinning died down, and my mirror image split in two as the silo opened. Stew was looking at his Multibook. Not even noticing that I had risen from the machine, digitized. I was expecting confetti to squirt out of the machine. It left me disappointed. It was official now. I had been digitized. One of the last human beings to only exist in the real world had entered the long build building. Arriving late at the party was cool right? Maybe Stew was telling reporters to come by. Ask me some questions. What it was like living only in the dreadful real. How I had survived the years of horror. How many hours of new undiscovered porn lay in front of me.

I would have to disappoint. My libido had gone down together with my testosterone levels. While my estrogen levels were on the rise. I was half woman by now. I was everything Jack wanted to be. Except I had a penis and man boobs. I should not mention it, it might get jealous. I only watched porn around one time every two weeks. It's part of the reason I survived this long on old DVDs after the collapse of my favorite internet.

I was dreaming. Stew was just checking if there were any grocery stores still open at this time of night. Even superstores didn't let their drones out in the middle of the night. I might have asked him a few questions about T.E.A.M., and it might have taken a lot longer than the half-hour he had planned. He had told me everyone started a club in the game. Everything you owned amounted to a field of grass. My faithful companion would be there waiting for me from the get-go. Then, after an emotional reunion, the aim was to build. A team, a stadium, training facilities, parking facilities, restaurants, Team spirit, a fan club. Everything you could think of. He had said the word everything louder than the rest, stressing it. Everything sounded nice. But I knew what a shit ton of work it was if you had no help.

Stew had told me you could hire help. For a fee. Money you rather want to spend on players. But it was possible. When I asked if I also had this belly in the game Stew looked at me funny, before reminding himself I knew nothing. Out loud. Kind of gave me a flashback to that unfinished book series I was reading when I was in my mid-thirties. The fat bastard had died mid-series, leaving it to a commercial television channel behind a pay wall to finish his life's work. I Shook my head the same moment he shook his. Looking at each other strange he continued telling me I could take any shape in a reasonable human figure. No dick and vagina in one, or dildo fingers, but if you wanted hands five times bigger than usual it was doable but ill-advised.

We had talked for a long time. It was clear that he enjoyed the game himself. It was also clear why 7-year-old Rey thought I was a god in this new reality. You could train your players. They designed the whole game so you could promote and relegate from leagues. Each league designed for a particular level of player. A player in this case meaning the manager of a club. In theory, the lower leagues would have the same level players in it. Having teams of equal, or about equal quality. One might have focused more on facilities than on footballers. Thus, being worse against another player of the same level in the short run. Stew said it was all about how you liked to play, how much detail you wished to manage, and how far you took the tactics, strategies and building plans.

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After you made your way through the basics and had reached the requirements you could even hire real people to play for you or help you around in your club. These people however also needed to first become managers of their own before the option became available. This was how George, and many like him, still enjoyed the playing side of my favorite game.

They had numbered the leagues and the league levels had letters. Lowest being W500410 highest being SS1. Then, If you were exceptional, or some legend retired ex-trainer. You became a member of the Celestial League, the summit of mount T.E.A.M., every boy's dream. After that, I had told Stew to hurry along and Digitize me and to stop being such a tease. He had grinned for the first time we had met. It was a sight I would rather forget.

I stepped out of the mirrored silo and said to Stew "You sure I don't need to go in naked? Can it scan me like that? Clothes and all?" Stew looked up from his Multibook and grimaced "Very sure."

He placed the technology back on the table he was standing next to and walked towards the Silo like structure. Pressed some buttons and there it was. A plastic card with about as much information anyone would need to impersonate me, steal all my money and possessions, then get me locked up for watching child porn. Stew had explained that it was so encrypted that even the NSA didn't know what was on it. I didn't have the faintest idea what encrypted meant or what it entailed but I didn't care enough to ask.

Stew took it to the front of the store again and picked a random helmet from the racks in the aisle. Even before going into the silo he had asked if I had any preferences for color. I had stared at him with a deadpan look. What the hell should I care what it looked like? I had only convinced myself to buy one, a half-hour ago. When he saw my look, he sighed and had stabbed his sausage finger on his Multibook again.

He came back with a fine blue specimen. It looked a little like the old motorcycle helmets. The front longer, and a weird looking battery pack on the back. I had no clue how it worked. Something to do with changing brain input and capturing brain output. Neurons and stuff. I had once seen a video of a guy in a monkey suit walking over a basketball court, while people were playing. Nobody would notice a guy in a monkey suit just passed as they watched the video. Since then I decided not to mess with my brain if I could avoid it. That was even before I saw how everyone always turned the same direction in the elevator. Now I would be inputting and outputting something into my brain with a helmet. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Stew put the data card into the helmet, asked if I wanted a bag and told me the price. I almost had a heart attack. This shit better has great porn. Three fucking thousand dollars.

"How about two thousand?" I asked. Haggling hadn't even been a thing anymore when I was a child, let alone now. "How about you buy this piece of shit and let me go home?" Stew retorted irritated. Couldn't blame the man. I gave it to him in cash, looking real shady with my pack of rolled up bills. He looked at it weird and sighed again. He needed to go to the bank now first. Well, can't be helped.

I got my bag, with digitized ‘me’ inside and walked out of the store. It was cold. But I was excited as I walked into the wind towards home. Excitement. Such a long time since I had felt that one. It felt good.