A ping pong ball flew across the room at breathtaking speed right into the precise left corner of the table with just enough spin and velocity to spiral out of control on impact. Put it simply, it was the perfect shot, a once-in-a-lifetime smash down for any player, even a pro, and poor Junie was front and center for the onslaught.

  And then the craziest thing happened, but in the same sense, it was the only possible outcome. The perfect shot was hit again, and then again, and again, and again until mere words on paper could not hope to describe its significance. Most line judges at tournaments would call foul play off the bat because no human player could serve so many flawless shots in great succession without any divergence from the goal or a moment of hesitation. And in that last sentence was the key to this all. Did you notice the phrase "no human player"? For the one serving the perfect shots was not a child prodigy or a retired pro—it was a machine just doing its thing. And it was not just any machine, although pretty much any could replicate this feat; it was Daniel.

  “Five-hundred-and-eighteen serving zero,” Daniel said with a smile. “Care to take your serve, Junie?”

  This was the moment that a typical kid would just give up, throw in the towel, and move on to play another day, for this deficit to overcome was just too great and too insurmountable for any typical kid to overcome. And who could blame a young chap? A five-hundred-point trail—heck, even a ten-point trail against a machine was an instant game over. Playing onward was just a waste of everyone’s time and certainly could not amount to anything useful. It would be like trying to run up a mountain that was postured straight up while wearing ice skates. Putting it simply, any effort for a challenger to venture onward was futile.

  And maybe for most kids giving up was the right thing to do, a choice that would allow everyone to move on with their lives; however, fortunately for Daniel, Junie was not that type of kid.

  “Serve,” Junie said while adjusting the straps on his wheelchair. “I’m not going until you forfeit a point. It’s winners' ball, remember?”

  Daniel may have lacked many of the emotions a human had, but even that phrase got him riled up and gassed for more; to see his opponent so thoroughly defeated but still wanting to venture onward all the same was enough to get him going.

  “Very well,” Daniel said with a smile, “try not to blink this time.”

  At the end of that phrase, another perfect serve ricocheted onto the scene, and then another blasted on by quickly, followed by a decisive third. The game went onward for some time, and it would be nice to say that Junie somehow rallied back from his deficit, filled with pure determination and a desperate will to carry onward through adversity. That Junie was fueled by what only a human could be, an uncountable and intangible power that made him a force to be reckoned with (excuse the cliche); however, unfortunately, the result was exactly the opposite. After hundreds more serves and hours and hours of more play, Junie did not go on to score even a single point—not one.

  “What is the probability of me stopping your streak here?” Junie said, interrupting the action.

  Daniel smirked like he often did at times like these, with his arrogance seemingly getting the best of him.

  “I don’t think that you want to know that number. This is just a friendly game, and I wouldn’t want to demoralize you.”

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  “Try me.”

  “Trust me. It is probably not a good—”

  “—What, are you afraid I’ll win?” Junie interrupted before stroking his paddle, desperate for another serve, seemingly convinced that this one would go differently than any of the last thousand or so.

  “—25,000,000 to one,” Daniel said.

  “What?” Junie’s mouth nearly hung open for just an absurdly low probability. “That can’t be right. No way I only have a one in 25,000,000 chance to win the game. Recalculate now. I demand it.”

  Daniel laughed at Junie’s somewhat absurd request.

  “No, you are right.”

  “I am?”

  “Let me clarify: it is 25,000,000 to one that you score a single point, not 25,000,000 to one that you actually will win. That winning probability calculation may be impossible to compute even for me, considering one may argue that the result would be indistinguishable from zero.”

  Junie’s mouth went from wide and weightless to clenched shut. His eyes narrowed too as he stepped back in a sideways position with his head tilted forward and his paddle raised. He then waved the paddle in Daniel’s direction.

  “Bring it on.”

  Daniel put down his own paddle.

  “I think that is enough winning for one day, wouldn’t you say? Let’s call it quits before I ruin any more of your potential aspirations.”

  “I said it once, and I will say it again. What, are you scared or something?”

  Daniel let out a fierce bark of a laugh. Even if machines could feel fear, this situation certainly did not merit any such reaction.

  “Terrified. Anyway, I should be going away now because after several hours of playing and a couple minutes beyond that, I have come to the final conclusion that these games are a complete waste of my time. In fact, they are a waste of your time too, Junie. Maybe spend a few more decades practicing and honing your skills, and we can talk.”

  Junie grunted.

  “Fine then. Be that way.”

  Junie quickly shifted his head around the room, looking in each and every crevice of the underground-apartment-slash-lab-like atmosphere that he currently resided in. There had to be something clever he could say, and it was right around the corner. He just needed to find it.

  Junie’s eyebrows scrunched together as his forehead turned a light red. It was almost as if he was physically verbalizing, "Think, Junie, think," without saying anything.

  After a little bit more fuss and a little more commotion, Junie eventually blurted out, “Give me three serves, and if I can’t score a single point, then”—he hesitated for a bit, not wanting to fully commit but then just going for it—“then I will let you go outside.”

  “What?” Daniel froze in his tracks. Now he was the one who was truly confused.

  “Even if I agreed to such an absurd notion, you don’t have the capabilities to bring me outside, anyway.”

  Junie quickly shifted his arms inside the interior lining of his jacket, worming through its pockets for a seemingly absurd amount of time given the jacket was so small.

  And then it finally happened. After a few moments later, Junie whipped his hand from his coat and dangled a metal chain out in front of Daniel’s face. “These here keys tell me otherwise.”

  Daniel’s mouth hung open for the first time in a while, as he was not the one to ever get taken off guard.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.”

  Daniel started to inch back toward Junie, still eyeing the keys, seemingly trying to see through Junie’s bluff. Unfortunately, Junie’s vitals and heartbeat were perfectly normal, a reaction atypical of a human if they were lying.

  “Even if those are the right keys, I can’t go outside. Dr. Lehman said that I was forbidden from leaving the premises.”

  Junie jingled the keys one more time behind Daniel as Daniel started to walk away.

  “Come on. We both know there is only one thing you could ever want, and you are three measly points away from getting it. Unless you are afraid or something.”

  Daniel took a deep breath as he looked at the steel-plated window that shielded him from ever viewing the outside world; he then looked over to a second structure of the same. And just at this moment, and even though he knew it was wrong, a cloud of forbidden temptation and impossibility drifted over his head; it was a determination of one prepared to take on the world, an almost human desire.

  Daniel still faced away from Junie, but he was moments from turning. Such a hard decision it was, which highlighted the one thing Daniel somewhat envied humans for—their emotions and the overwhelming compulsion to make decisions that came with it.