NPC Having Fun

"Can you tell me that we are not living in a simulation? Can you tell me that this is not just me in some computer? I just feel like this is a simulation, man."

"You may be on to something, Sara," I said while warming up and stretching to prepare to play.

"Listen, Mark." Sara pointed with her racket at me, holding the table tennis racket loosely like some toy. "If all of this is a simulation, you would tell me, right?"

"How can I tell you? Do you think that I am the simulacrum or something?"

"If you are an NPC, you can tell me, Mark." Sara's smile widened, and she also stretched a little bit haphazardly.

"I am ready to play. If I win, I will tell you nothing. But if you win, I will tell you all about the simulacrum simulation thing."

"Really, really? You mean it?" Sara was jumping up and down and then got into position to serve, and her playfulness changed.

Her blood type is O. Don't ask me how I know. She is religious, Christian. But she often asks me if it is okay to lie, or steal, or commit forgery, or legal fraud, or cook the books so that it is only a little bit far from reality.

Well, it doesn't matter. I was ready for the backhand serve. And I was pushing her backhand more, even though there was no issue with her backhand.

My strategy was to play all that I can on her backhand. She had a strong forehand. Many men couldn't even imagine having a forehand spin like that.

I was leading 8-4, a comfortable lead, but I was all serious, serious as ever. I put all I got in every point because winning against Sara is something that always feels great. She is an amazing player. Playing against her is also super fun. I don't need to hold back. She knows what she is doing.

11-9. I got her with a forehand spin this set.

Sara was looking at the ball in disbelief.

"That ball was impossible to return. You put way too much strength in it. Give me a break a little bit. From time to time, let me win some points and play a little bit less serious, okay, Mark?"

"Yeah, right," I said, nodding in disbelief myself by this lame attempt to play mind games.

We were then switching the sides, and while walking to that side, she walked right next to me and blew hot air in my ear in a somewhat seductive way. I liked it but can't admit it.

I tried to look unfazed.

I was leading the second set as well.

"Markkk, let me win. I need to know the secrets."

"What secrets?"

"Don't play dumb. You are not fair."

"I am not fair? What would my girl tell me if she knew you just blew in my ear? I mean, she is not jealous, but that is not normal."

"Well, who cares, dude?" She held the racket again like just barely, like it was gonna drop from her hand.

"I care, dude. Just play normal. Let's have some more fun."

It was 8-8.

She was serving. I didn't know if she was going for a backhand slice serve again or something else. She was preparing, but it was a different serve completely. Weird spin on the ball. I managed to return it great and with some luck.

Then she hit the ball with all her power. Her leg pushed into the green floor hard. Her calves were stone. Her wrist and body combined to do one, then two, and many more incredibly strong forehand spins.

I was standing my ground and returned the first one easily, but after a few of them, I was all over the place, giving my best to return all of them. I played defense.

I am not sure if I am a defensive or offensive player. I definitely play attacking more often. But why is that? What is wrong with defense sometimes?

Sara didn't play defense at all. She was all attack. I never saw doubt in her strikes. She always full sends everything.

I gave her one slice with so much spin and just waited for the counterattack. The ball was perfect from my side. If—and it's a big if—if only I was closer to the table. I am standing so far, and if any other player was playing against me, this point would be done.

But Sara, beautiful Sara, her leg, her arm, her whole body just swung with all of the might and heart and set me up perfectly for a counterattack.

I used the momentum on the ball and just attacked her backhand with a powerful hit that didn't even have that much spin on it.

9-8.

And again, 11-8.

I won at the end, but it was close as ever. Sara would beat me also sometimes. She has skill and is attacking constantly. With that kind of play, if you are having a bad day, you are in a world of hurt.

"So, Mark, now that you won, can you tell me: is all of this real? Are we in a simulation?"

"I am not sure, Sara, but some days the people in this world are so dumb that I think that it must be a simulation as well. Some days, also, my life feels so boring and limited that I think it is even a low-level simulation. Why can't the simulator creator just upgrade some things, you know?"

Sara was adjusting her skirt and her top. She also wore some strong perfume, and I was really confused by why would she do all of this when in the tennis club was only her, me, and the old guy from the Jurassic period that we need to pay our session to.

I can't ask her, "Why are you getting yourself dressed and making yourself so pretty for no reason?"

She got a boyfriend as well, but she would often talk about hot men other than him.

I thought that was a little bit of poor taste. I mean, yes, I also think some women are hot other than my girlfriend, but I would never speak of it. Maybe I am just paranoid. Looks don't even matter really when you are in a relationship. It is weird. The looks are a biological, evolutive system to find the best mate and produce the best kid possible, or so I think. But why do looks also dictate so many other things? We let our biology affect us too much and give pretty people too many advantages.

"Earth calling to Mark. Earth calling to Mark. Mark, respond. Mark, do you copy?"

"Ah, yes, Sara, sorry. I got distracted."

Sara smiled. She smiled even more. She started to put her head in weird positions like a magician.

I was ready to go, and now I, in my head, wondered what to say and how to go my way. Maybe we can hug and then go.

"You got distracted by looking at this hot body, didn't you?" Sara was doing some posing like a bodybuilder that is addicted to mirrors and the mirrors were taken away from him for like seven days.

"I guess no hug. Bye, Sara."

"No hug, Mark?"

"No hug. You are annoying. Bye, beautiful."

"Bye, Mark. Same place next week?"

"Sure, if the simulacrum allows it."

"I knew you were an NPC, Mark."

"I know you are one as well."

I waved to Sara with a smile on my face and could not wait to get home and tell my girlfriend how well I played today.