Earth used to have film stars or movie stars or TV or music stars, when entertainment was totally dependent on some physical piece of hardware (TV, music player etc), that a user had to turn on and connect to the world wide thingummyjig wotsit or whatever it used to be called.
But then the engineers at some company named after a fruit suggested people could be simply implanted with a chip that would allow them to see and listen to performers essentially in the air in front of their eyes.
Of course, most people thought this was bananas (not the name of the company) as how would it work in practice?. I mean if you were sitting in a train would the images appear in front of your face and would everyone else see that and hear that?
Well no actually it didn’t work like that at all. You see if you were in a public space the aircast would effectively play inside your head. You would see and hear everything you would on a physical display but it would be private, inside your head wherever you were. When you were at home or at work you could connect what was in your head to an external display.
Airplay technology led to a new revolution in entertainment and many performers were never actually seen live at all but only through aircasts (i.e. inside people’s heads) – some of these performers became cult figures and mega-rich. Hence the term ‘Airstars’. In fact, I often play one in my head and he’s 6 and a multi-billionaire – one of the MacBeckham clan that bought Scotland centuries ago (little Oik!!).
Well it’s a bit complicated really because it involves 4 goals and 4 teams.
Two goals and 2 teams are real (the scream if you kick them) and 2 are virtual. Each football club has 2 teams in the game. One team of real players that it employs, and another that is made up of virtual players drawn from the top 250 virtual players in the Trans-Planetary V-Soccer virtual game played by children the galaxy over. The exact makeup of the club’s virtual team is determined by a random selection made 1 hour before kick off from the top 250 players list.
The match kicks off with the 2 real teams playing each other and the 2 virtual teams playing each other. Spectators see both games side by side. They watch on their screens at home or, if they are hovering over the stadium, on pitches that are at right angles to each other. If watching at the actual stadium this means that play on one pitch actually crosses over play on the other which can be a bit confusing. During the first 15 minutes of the first
During the first 15 minutes of the first half that’s how it must continue. At the end of the first 15 minutes each team manager can select up to 4 players from the virtual teams, who are playing their own match, and ‘step’ them into the real physical game. The 4 real players who step out take up positions in the virtual game and play that for the next 15 minutes. At the end of this 15 minute period the teams switch back to as they were at kick off.
During half-time it gets even more complicated as each team manager has to decide on a fixed combination of real and virtual players for each game for the whole of the second half.
The scores from both games count towards the final result. So if a team wins both games they get 10 points. Win one and lose one and they get 5 points. Win one and draw one and they get 7 points.
See, all very simple really though tactics can get very complicated as clubs can draft in young kids (normally under 5 these days) who act as the club controller of the virtual games. Honestly, they can get paid a fortune. There’s a 6 year old, I think he’s one of the McBeckham clan, who is a multi-millionaire already the little Oik!!
There’s nothing really special about the mine but Bryllium is a very special and precious element. In the late 21st Century the deep space probe VirginGalaxy returned to Earth from a planet called Luminem that orbits the star Copernicus (or Copper Knickers as my old astronomy avatar used to say) in the constellation of Cancer.
Some jolly clever chemists analysed the properties of Bryllium and found that if mixed with certain well know Earth elements and compounds, the product could very effectively replace ozone in the Earth’s atmosphere to protect us poor Earthlings from our Sun’s increasingly dangerous radiation. It was a jolly brilliant invention (which might be why it was called Bryllium I suppose, but I might be making that up…..)
ITI – or Intergalactic Tax Inspector. That’s me. Wow, and what a job. I would never have dreamed of a job like this when I graduated from my local Learning World at the age of 27 with 137 digital badges covering topics from languages, alien lifeforms, history, lasers in society, through to communication skills, martial arts and mathematics. I was fully expecting to drift from homework to homework earning variable sums of credit. How lucky I was to be recommended by one of my old tutors (who obviously realised how talented I was) for a government sponsored fast track civil servant programme.
Fully intending to become a virtual government official, proofreading and air publishing new local laws, I managed to get on the wrong hoverbus outside the New Trainee transit station and the next thing I knew someone was taking my maths capability to a new level and telling me that I was going to become an ITI.
So here I am, several years later earning a good salary, travelling the galaxy with my trusty (ha ha) companion Cat, checking out the tax affairs of individuals and major corporations across many globes. I had quickly gained a reputation for managing complex and quite dangerous missions with the help of Cat. Of course, it (Cat) would have many believe that much of my success was down to it. But I knew better. I had lost count of the number of times I had pulled its furry tail out of the fire.
We sometimes would undertake missions on good old Earth, in between our space travels, and here again all of my skills and staggering capabilities came forth to ensure I succeeded, helping to make Cat look vaguely useful in the process. Cat acknowledged my skills, only recently telling me that my capabilities would come at least fourth on anyone’s list!!
Supercilious little irrelevance…….wait till I catch him farting again!!
Oh yes, everyone asks what Cat is. Well, in short, he’s a massive pain in the butt to me and a right little know-it-all to boot (occasionally literally:-) ).
In reality Cat (note the capital C) is an artificial intelligence or what I like to call a robot. He has a Rubanon skin which makes him pretty indestructible (though a T. Rex nearly bit him in half once). Now that’s a story – and of course once again I saved his bacon. Not that he’s a pig of course.
Anyway, he is a robot and he is there to serve me and protect me in my duties as an Intergalactic Tax Inspector. Aside from the fact that he has the hardest outer coating known, and inside is full of chips (not the edible kind), he looks to all intents and purposes, due to clever body sculpting, like an ordinary domestic cat. I have to say he has many of the nastier characteristics of domestic cats!!
Well actually Rubanon, strictly speaking, isn’t on Earth as such. It’s a substance invented around 100 years ago, just after the start of the 22nd Century, by Professor Retnug Natiloportem (try saying that when you’ve had a half of Navah syrup).
She combined good old rubber with the element Memon (the hardest metal known to the human race) to invent Rubanon. This skin like material provides an incredibly hard yet flexible covering that can be used for a range of purposes, including as a very lifelike and hard wearing outer skin for robots.
Memon was discovered many years ago in our own Solar System, on Mars.
Actually its quite easy really. It’s pronounced PUZZ-AXE-A-MIX. I learned that from Cat just as I was saving his life (once again) on this far away and very dusty planet. Pzzsxamix was a Bryllium mining planet but it was also home to the evil Mr Snosrap who was not only avoiding paying his galactic taxes but was also smuggling radioactive substances. I soon put a stop to his dirty dealings.
And where was this planet? Well nowhere near Alpha Centauri, which was where mission control told us to go before turning left. Useless lot.