"Dice", part I
"I am the unluckiest guy in the world."
"Uhm," the interviewer said, "I asked for your name."
"Oh. Right."
The room was dimly lit by a hanging ceiling lamp that clearly needed a new lightbulb. The yellow-orange light emitted from it cast a dark, moody canvas over an otherwise cold room. The walls seemed as if built by metallic file cabinets. Ahead of him, the interviewer sat with papers spread across the table. A cigarette haze made the air dull and his eyes itchy. The interviewer made small smoke circles.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Habak. Jobo Habak," the subject said. He was a young, scruffy lad with dirty clothes, wild brown hair and stubble. He had dark rims below brown his eyes, a long nose and a shifty gaze, oftenly peaking upwards at the peaceful lamp. His thin fingers twitched and twined with each other and his breadth was slightly staggering - While one might suspect that he didn't seem to be entirely comfortable about sitting in this exact room, the fact was that we was always extremely uncomfortable. He usually said it was because...
"I am the unluckiest guy in the world."
"You just told me that, and why would you say that?" the interviewer replied, a little annoyed.
"I just am," Jobo said with a hollow voice, "Things always break down around me. I've been robbed three times this month because I couldn't find my keys to lock the door. My only girlfriend, who I had two years ago, was a long-distance relationship. At some point, my internet, phone and keyhole all broke down simultaneously while all of my neighbours were on vacation. I couldn't get out of the window as I lived on the third floor, and while I had plenty of canned food to survive, it took two months before a fireman finally chopped my door down. Because I hadn't contacted her for so long, she had begun seeing another guy. And the city court penalized me for my bills being overdue. See, once I thought I had finally won a lottery, after all lady luck would grant me justice, but no! My ticket was a fraud, and I was fined severely because they thought it was an attempt to trick the company!"
The interviewer was searching for words, looking however unimpressed.
"Mr. Habak, what you talk about is none of my business. What I'm representing is a binding application you signed up for when joining the judo team a few years ago. Yes, I know you were thrown out," he added quickly as Jobo attempted to interject something, "But it's really none of my business. My business, however, is this..."
The interviewer presented a small suitcase from the floor and put it on the table. Jobo looked at it like it was going to explode. But it didn't. When the man opened it, there were thousands of clear neon lights, small machinery and roller coasters, tune-playing ferris wheels, children's laugh and tiny balloons flying from the grassy clothing. A train was tooting peacefully and zigzagging in between the tiny steel structures. Jobo's mouth was open wide.
"How did you..." he began asking, but the interviewer cut him off.
"The technological finesse of my company is irrelevant, Mr. Habak. What is important, however, is the explanation of this display. See, a long time ago, this very amusement park was shut down with great intentions in mind. Very great. The scope was infact so broad it would have shaken the world in riot and tremor if held public. So it was done in secrecy. What I am about to tell you is done in such secrecy. If you tell anyone outside, you'll be dead."
Jobo was about to smirk, but realized the interviewer was dead serious. He nod.
"Good. The owner started a project, which he called 'Carnivale'. It was a celebration of strength, wisdom and fighting skill. The tournament was held to find the strongest of all fighters. One would stand against the others to win -"
"Wait, is this a fighting competition?" Jobo interrupted. The interviewer didn't seem too pleased. "Of course it is," he said.
"But I can't fight," Jobo said nervously. He looked at the door behind the interviewer, but it seemed very metallic, heavy and locked.
"You used to practice judo," the interviewer said matter-of-factly.
"I never learned it. I got thrown out," Jobo said quietly. "But that's not the important part. Watch this!"
Jobo stood up with open arms below the lamp, which had begun to waver a bit from his fast rise. It swang back and forth for a while as the interviewer watched the man in front of him, welcoming a ceiling lamp. Jobo felt his nervous heartbeat a tad too long before walking to the side of the room in front of the file cabinets, closing his eyes and crouching with his hand over his head. He felt his legs shaking as the drawers would most probably hit him in the neck in a little while. But they didn't. When he opened his eyes, he sat in a ridiculous position while the interviewer looked at him as if he were insane.
"I... I don't understand..." Jobo stuttered, "Things always hit me." A short silence followed as the creaking lamp swang slightly back and forth.
"Well, you pulled a lucky one this time," the interviewer mumbled. "Now, to the rest of the story."
Jobo sat down on his seat with a hopeless look on his face.
"What would draw these strange fighters and creatures of the world to this place was of course the honor and glory of being the champion - for what an honor that was! but to make it truly interesting, the host made a very special price." The interviewer leaned forward, as to catch Jobo's curiosity. He looked Jobo directly into his eyes for the first time when he whispered: "A wish. One wish for the lucky winner, one wish for the strong warrior. One additional drop of glory that would gild the days of the victor for all time." The interviewer smiled as Jobo stared at him. "And it came true."
Jobo's eyes were wide, not only with curiosity - but he experienced a feeling that he hadn't been feeling for a long time. A feeling of a calm, lifting swelling through his heart and chest. Hope. What if he would win this tournament? What if he, against all odds, beated the best fighters of all dimensions and prevailed to get a wish come true? What if - what if he could wish to be lucky? But with that thought, realization set in.
"But," Jobo said, while the interviewer was just done packing his things, "How can I win this when I'm unlucky to start with?"
The interviewer shrugged on his way out.
