The sun was scorching hot as it beat down on the hill. Grayson Paul chuckled to himself as he panted, sweat dripping off his brow, hands planted on his knees. ::A hill,:: he thought to himself, ::There needs to be a new term for something bigger than a hill, yet not quite big enough to be a mountain.::

He stood, interlocking his fingers above his head as he sucked in air. After nine sprints up the hill, it was understandable that he might have some ill feeling towards the hill. It was tall, steep, nearly a forty-five degree angle. Of course, he brought it upon himself. While he was trim, the men in his family ran large, to put it mildly. His waistline required some extra attention, and so he made sure to tackle the hill at least three times a week. With a groan that was more growl, Grayson began sprinting again, long legs churning up turf as he ascended - no - as he conquered his foe. Standing now at the top, he raised his fists triumphant in the air, “Take that!”

And then, with a gleeful laugh, he tossed himself down the hill, rolling all the way to the bottom. Still smiling, he sat up, looking around. “Time for some fun,” he stood, “Replace the hill with a standard basketball court, full court, two baskets, one standard basketball.”

The computer chimed it’s assent and removed the hill, complete with the burning, noon-time sun and replaced it with a gymnasium. The hardwood floor carried the traditional markings of any court. A ball materialized at his feet, and Grayson grabbed the ball and stood up, dribbling it between his hands, then between his legs a couple of times. The gym echoed satisfactorily with each bounce of the ball. The computer’s simulations so realistic he could feel the stuffy humidity in the air and a few industrial sized fans tried to push the air with only marginal success. Grayson dribbled the ball over to the nearest basket, tossed up an easy lay-up, then stepped out for a fade away five foot jumper. He bricked it.

“Damn,” Grayson laughed to himself, “Must need to get some more hoop time in. Computer, generate an opponent, use my own height and mass as a template.”

The computer worked silently, and soon another man stood across from Grayson. He was pretty non-descript, even his face was a mixture of several types blended together. Generic. Grayson smiled as he started dribbling the ball, crouching low as he advanced; his opponent squatting down similarly, spreading his hands out wide as Grayson charged the basket.
Cadet Grayson Paul, Engineer (Sweaty Man)