Chapter 82: The Cost of Vision
The sun was still low when Amani stepped onto the dew-slick grass, his breath curling in the chilly air. Beneath his training jersey, his muscles still ached from the Future Cup’s constant reminders of both triumph and toil. Yet his mind hummed with anticipation. He wasn’t here for an easy recovery session. He was here to push the boundaries again.
Coach Pronk’s voice cracked across the field like a whip.
"Five v five! Quick rotations! Two-touch limit!"
Amani joined his teammates in a small-sided game. He kept the strobe glasses tucked away in his bag for the moment, preferring, at least for this warm-up, to rely on the familiar comfort of full vision.
A throw-in came his way. Instinct took over: he feinted left, glanced once at the defenders, and snapped a pass straight through a sliver of space that seemed impossibly narrow. Malik, hovering on the opposite flank, collected it fluidly, took a single touch, and then fired the ball into the top corner. The net rippled.
A whoop of admiration rose from the small group, and a teammate clapped him on the back.
"There he is, the Future Cup MVP!"
Coach Pronk offered a faint smirk of approval. "We can’t complain when the kid’s on form," he muttered.
Then, just as Amani jogged back into position, he felt that distinct pulse in his peripheral vision, a subtle dimming, like someone had turned the lights down a notch.
***
<< SYSTEM ALERT: OVER-RELIANCE ON VISUAL INPUT >>