Prologue: Absurd Arbitration

"I'm tellin’ you, I didn't steal nothin' from your orchard!"

"Then explain how yer cider tastes just like mine!"

"Well, maybe that's because we grow the same kinds of apples!"

I should be in Jamaica right now playing in the World Cup qualifying match. I was next in line to be brought up from the under twenty squad to represent America. Instead, I'm stuck here listening to these idiots.​

A muscular man with a full beard and a glaring farmer's tan and a slim guy with a clean shave were standing before me. Other than the fact the topic at hand was apples, they were representing themselves in a fruitless argument. It was becoming harder to tell if there was even a real problem to begin with, but honestly, that did not matter much to me. This was so uninteresting that it was only the three of us in the miniature courtroom I had designed and built onto the back of the office. Normally, at least family members or other witnesses I allowed were present as well.

The bearded man on the left wearing both a baseball cap and sunglasses indoors for some unknown reason was the owner of the largest, most successful apple orchard in the area. His tank top featured the national flag, and the pockets in his cargo shorts seemed almost useless with those tears. The man on the right in the plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves and fresh jeans had just recently started an orchard of his own. It was located only a few miles down the road from the tycoon's property, and it was already a surprisingly huge success.

The new competitor continued his case. "Besides, cider is about more than just the apples. It's a craft."

The brutish man pounded his fist on the table. "Then ya musta stolen my recipe, too! And what about how yer able to produce so much product?" He pointed emphatically. "That must be because you snuck onto my property at night and picked some of my apples!"

The more presentable man shrugged. "I am simply using my stock to its fullest. I've seen all the waste coming from your cider house. And all I had to do was buy a few gallons from your orchard and adjust my own ingredients to reproduce the flavor."

Already standing, the owner of the well-established orchard pounded his fist on the table more forcefully than the first time.

Oh, if only I hadn't torn my Achilles during our last friendly against the national team six years ago. I was certain to score that last goal and guarantee my promotion to the first team. One step away -- or perhaps one step shorter -- and I wouldn't be sitting up in this stand serving as an arbitrator in Small Town, USA.​

As if I could not hear them from where they were, the two orchardmen slowly grew closer while they continued to bicker. Man, this is getting out of control. It's no wonder neither of these guys could find a lawyer to take this case.

Perhaps it was a bit ironic being an arbitrator and all, but I honestly hated making decisions. I always tried my best to sit there and look pretty while people talked it out on their own. That strategy never quite seemed to work out for me, and I always had to step in eventually. I guess I better stop dwelling on how great my life could have been and actually do something.​

"That's a load of bull! Yer tellin' me that a tiny little orchard not only can produce loads of top-notch cider after one year of operatin’ but also sell it for a profit at a lower price than mine? You stole the apples! That's why yer costs are so low!"

"Maybe I am simply smarter than you and know how to run a better business."

"That's it! I've had enough of yer crap!" The tough-looking guy reached a hand behind his waist. The back of his shirt rose, revealing something stuffed into his shorts.

Wait. Is that... "Watch out!"

Oblivious to the danger he was in, the target turned toward me. "What? You finally gonna-" He cut himself off when he saw he flying through the air. "Woah! What are you--!"

Without thinking, I jumped out of my seat and leapt off the stand. I managed to tackle the soon-to-be victim to prevent the bullet from hitting him. After I hit the ground, I was in far too much pain to feel any relief.

I reached for the spot on my back that hurt the most, and it felt especially warm. As I rolled over, I stared at my bloodied hand. The shooter threw his gun down in a panic and sprinted out the door. I thought I heard the other man dialing his phone, but all my senses were starting to get all fuzzy.

"Yes... Please send an ambulance to Adam's Arbitration... As soon as possible... Adam's been shot."

Oh... I see... I didn't make it in time to get the man out of the way... I only made it in time to take the bullet for him... Am I seriously about to die because of two guys arguing over apples? What a waste... If I ever get another chance at life, I hope it's much more fulfilling... Much more exciting…​

I was certain I should have been dead. But then, by some miracle, I could feel my breath returning. However, I was no longer Adam. I was...