Michael sighed as he stared at the screen in front of him. He was lying on a bed, one of his feet suspended in the air by a cast. His hands were wrapped in casts as well, and there was an older woman sitting by his side, ready to take care of all his needs. With broken hands, he couldn’t feed himself. With broken hands, he couldn’t use the bathroom properly either. He had been in this state for over three months now, bordering on four. His dreams of attending the Bread Games had been shattered along with his hands and foot by the deceptively heavy weight within the gym. Perhaps it was a metaphor for how he wasn’t strong enough to handle the pressure that came with being a champion. Perhaps it was the world’s way of fucking with him. Either way, Michael didn’t appreciate it, and he let his displeasure be known by jetting out another sigh.

The woman by his side lowered her phone, the one she had been mindlessly staring at while occasionally flicking with her finger. “Do you have to pee again?”

“No, I don’t have to pee again,” Michael said, his expression darkening. The intergalactic society was obviously an advanced one. Their regenerative care was also topnotch. However, if that was the case, then why was he stuck in bed for four months waiting for his bones to heal when miracle elixirs existed? The answer was simple. He was too poor! Although he received compensation from the old man and woman who had indirectly caused him to become crippled, he had more practical uses for that money. Instead of buying bone-restoring pills that could’ve fixed him in an hour, he bought a house for his aging mother and purchased a cheaper alternative medicine that would soothe the pain and accelerate his healing but not fast enough to participate in the Bread Games. As for the company that signed him, upon hearing about the accident and discovering the old man’s freakish strength, they immediately terminated Michael’s contract, paid him the fees, and recruited the old man.

Now, all Michael could do was lie in bed and watch the old man through a screen. Unlike his previous conjectures, the old man was not, in fact, a retired champion. He was an active athlete, and he was currently representing the Moon Lotus World in every one of its categories—the ones for men, at least. Michael didn’t want to root for the old man; it wasn’t because his arms and foot had been broken because of him; it was because of the image that had been burned into his brain that one time he opened the door to the locker room. However, no matter how badly Michael hoped for the old man’s failure, the old man was like the main character of a novel, overcoming every challenge with ease.

“Elder Vremya is truly impressive, isn’t he?” the older woman on the side said. “He’s not bad-looking either.”

“Mom…,” Michael said. He didn’t know what else to say. His mother was single and aging. At least, if she fell for an old man, it wouldn’t be weird. No, it would still be weird, but not as weird as it could be. Michael’s expression dimmed as he watched the old man throw a boulder so hard that it became a dot in the sky. When the boulder landed, it was determined that the old man had—once again—broken another intergalactic record. This was the seventh intergalactic record he had broken, and there had only been seven games so far! At this rate, wouldn’t this old man become the most famous Bread athlete of all time?

The boulder-tossing game ended with the old man being the winner by a long shot. Michael didn’t understand how it was possible. The old man’s body wasn’t physically imposing. It was impressive, but it wasn’t as impressive as the runner-up, who had the figure of a gorilla. How did the smaller build throw the rock further? It simply didn’t add up. Technique could only take one so far; it wasn’t enough to overcome physical limitations. Multiple people from all over had been asking the same question as Michael, spamming social media websites until everyone had heard of Grandpa Vremya’s name. However, the host planet of the Bread Games guaranteed the trials were fair and the old man was passing them legitimately.

As the winner, Grandpa Vremya was sat in front of a desk with microphones pointed at his expressionless face. It wasn’t the face a winner would make. It was the face of someone washing the dishes or taking out the trash. It was as if the old man treated winning in the Bread Games as something mundane as everyday chores.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?” a reported asked. “What are your thoughts on setting a seventh intergalactic record?”

The elderly man grabbed the microphone, bringing it closer to his face. His expression turned serious, and he cleared his throat. “As you can see, I am the greatest of all time. There’s not much more that needs to be said.” With that mind-blowingly arrogant response, Grandpa Vremya returned the microphone to the stunned reporter and waited for more questions.

“Aren’t you afraid of the public backlash you’ll be facing for your comments?”

“The opinion of the public is worthless to me,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Does an eagle consider the feelings of an ant?”

“You’re competing in gymnastics next. What do you think about the four-time gold medalist, Ivan, Son of Ivan?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Is there any athlete here that you’re wary of?”

“No.”

“Some people have been questioning your background. Since you come from the Moon Lotus World, a place where nearly all drugs aren’t illegal, they wonder if you’ve taken anything to boost your performance. Is there anything you’d like to say in response to these allegations?”

“Some people are morons. I have nothing to say to them.”

“With such a domineering attitude, aren’t you afraid of losing your sponsorship with Victory? One can’t help but think this is a publicity stunt meant to bring in revenue for your sponsor. Do you have any comments about why you’re acting so arrogantly?”

“Only people worthy of my respect will receive it. If you think I’m acting arrogantly towards you, then that simply means you’re not worthy.”

Michael couldn’t stand the old man’s responses anymore. It infuriated him. This was exactly the type of personality he’d suspect someone who flaunted their family jewels in the locker room would have. However, Michael didn’t have any unbroken fingers to operate the remote. “Can you change the channel?”

The older woman glanced at her son. “Weren’t you always obsessed with the Bread Games?” she asked. “I remember you used to beg me to extend your bedtime whenever the games would continue late in the night. Let’s watch a little more. This Elder Vremya really is quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

Michael leaned back, flattening his pillow. His eyes stared up at the ceiling while he did his best to ignore the reporters’ questions and the old man’s answers. For some reason, everything felt so unfair. Why was the universe so unjust?

***

Pravos sighed and stopped sending her divine energy into her computer. It powered off not long after. Sometimes, watching the things Vremya’s avatar did made Pravos feel like squishing him. However, if she did that, then she would get sent a billion years into the future or something equally as terrible. Justice really wouldn’t exist if that were to happen! As such, the only thing Pravos could do was turn a blind eye towards the injustice that was happening for the greater good of all the lower dimensions.

“Huh, so that’s what they mean when they say justice is blind,” Karta said, always keen on bullying Pravos whenever an opening showed itself.

Pravos snorted. After spending so many days trapped in the black hole with the naked old man and the naked dog, Pravos was beginning to develop an immunity towards their antics. She hoped her mindset wasn’t being altered forever, but she wasn’t quite sure anymore. The circumstance she was in was slowly driving her crazy.