"...a major league baseball player. You know, growing up I always wanted to play for the Mets. It's every kid's dream," said Roger.
"Hmm, a baseball player," mused Mark. "Well in theory the range of the device is unlimited, but you need to know the approximate location of the subject, within about 500 yards."
"Well that shouldn't be a problem," replied Roger. "The Mets have a game this afternoon. All the players will be at the stadium."
"Ah, of course, so who do you want to be?" asked Mark.
"Let's see..." Roger picked up the Sunday paper on Mark's bed and began to thumb through the sports section. "Oliver Perez is pitching. How about him?"
"Sounds good, let me just get the coordinates of the stadium and try to zero in on the target," Mark said as he tapped away at the computer.
"OK, that should do it." Mark passed a rod connected to the main device to Roger. "I'll project you just for a moment at first to make sure we have the right target. Tell me what you see."
A sudden dizziness hit Roger and a ball cracked in his glove. Roger was crouched down and wearing catcher's gear. He looked down at his massive frame in a baseball uniform and when he looked up Mark was in front of him again.
"That wasn't it, I was the catcher," said Roger. "But Perez was there, across from me throwing."
The room spun again and Roger was throwing as hard as he could. He looked down and saw he was wearing a Mets uniform. Then he was back in Mark's room again. "That was him!" Roger said.
"So how long do you want?" asked Mark.
"Well, the game's in almost an hour so how about four hours? That should get me through the game."
"Get ready..." Mark pushed a button, and a longer wave dizziness overcame Roger. Then it passed, and Roger found himself standing in the bullpen once again. He looked around to take in his new surroundings. It was warm if cloudy and the stands were still mostly empty of people. Roger looked down at himself, but didn't look like himself at all. He was big! Easily over six feet tall and felt stronger than he ever had before. Roger looked down at his white pinstriped uniform sitting over his blue T-shirt. "Hey, are you gonna toss?" His thoughts were interrupted and Roger saw the catcher looking at him impatiently. "Come on, let's go!"
"Yeah, sorry," Roger replied and was surprised to hear a his deep voice with a Spanish accent. He threw another pitch and was taken aback by his strength. Roger couldn't believe he could throw that hard. He tossed back and forth with the catcher for a while longer and realized that he was throwing left-handed. Roger was a righty, but it felt natural in this body.
During the national anthem, Roger couldn't wait to get out to the mound. He looked at his blue cap again before putting it on and running out to the field. His adrenaline was pumping, he was actually on the mound in a Major League Baseball game!
The catcher flashed the signs and Roger knew what pitch to throw. He hurled a high fastball and the batter fouled it off. This was amazing, Roger thought, not only am I in a major league pitcher's body, but I have his abilities and knowledge. He threw another pitch, changeup, the batter didn't bite, called strike. Fastball, missed low. Another fastball, swing and a miss. Roger felt amazing, he just struck out a major league batter!
It was another exciting experience when Roger ran back to the dugout filled with all his favorite players. The other players would shoot the shit with him and Roger had to do all he could to stop himself from asking for their autographs.
Roger felt amazing as he kept pitching throughout the game. He was throwing fastballs, changeups, curveballs, everything. He even got to bat a couple times. As the game wore on, though, Roger got exhausted and suddenly the game was more of a labor than when he started. Roger had trouble in the fifth inning. He was tired and he'd try to throw a strike, but he just couldn't get it in the same place as earlier in the game. His arm was sore and he could barely catch his breath. The Diamondbacks scored a couple of runs in the fifth and one more in the sixth. When Roger came back into the dugout after the seventh inning, the manager patted him on the ass. "Good game, Ollie," he said. "You're all done for the night." Wow, thought Roger, that was an amazing experience. Roger was tired by this point and had enough pitching for the day, but he was disappointed that the Mets were losing, 3-1. He sat in the dugout and watched the rest of the game as the Mets lost, 4-1.
Roger followed the team back to the clubhouse. He glanced at a clock and figured he still had about an hour left in this body. Roger didn't know what to do now. He found his locker and saw that a bunch of the other players were headed to the showers. Roger was a little in awe and a little uncomfortable about showering with all these guys who he had always seen on TV, but never met. He looked down at himself, though, and figured that it wasn't his body, so there was nothing to be timid about.
Roger got undressed and finally got a good look at his muscular torso. He felt his powerful pecs and thick arms and could see how this body could throw so hard. Walking to the shower in his towel, Roger paused when he saw his face in a mirror for the first time. It was so strange seeing Oliver Perez's goateed face starting back at him.
Roger showered and got dressed in the clothes he found waiting in his locker. He didn't really chat with any of the other players, they were all pretty quiet anyway since the team had lost. A bunch of reporters came in pretty soon and a couple walked up to Roger. "Hey Oliver, can I ask a couple questions?" Roger turned around to see about four reporters holding microphones and recorders in his face. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," Roger replied.
"OK," the reporter said quizzically. "Well, can you tell us what went wrong towards the end of your outing?"
Roger didn't know what to say. He looked around and saw other players calmly conversing with the media and figured he better come up with something. "Well, I guess in the fifth inning I got lost a little bit," he said. "I was missing the first pitch."
Some of the reporters scribbled down notes and none seemed taken aback by the answer so Roger figured he had done all right. He answered a few more questions, then made his way outside the park. He grabbed the car keys in his locker and walked out to the parking lot and started looking for the car that matched the keys he found.
"Hey Oliver, you suck!" Roger turned and saw a man yelling at him out his car window as he was stuck in traffic. "You lost me a ton of money on that game! I knew I should have bet on the D-Backs!" Roger turned and began to walk away when a sudden realization hit him. He turned around to see the man again but he felt like his body fell asleep and suddenly he was back sitting on a chair in Mark's room.
Roger was a little dazed for a moment as he took in all that had happened to him, but then remembered what the man said and jumped up just as Mark opened the door and came back in the room.
"Oh sorry I'm late..." he began but Roger interrupted.
"Mark! I just had an amazing idea. Do you know what we can do with this thing?"
"Well, I designed it so I'm pretty well aware of its capabilities," Mark responded.
"No, no, no, we could make a fortune with this thing!" Roger shouted.
"Well then I assume it worked, but we can't just go selling it to people. I can't let people find out about this."
"No, that's not what I'm talking about," Roger continued. "We could use it to bet on sporting events! Then project ourselves into the athletes. We can basically rig the games."
Mark thought a moment about what Roger had just said and a devilish grin crept across his face. "I like what you're thinking," Mark said slowly.
As the realization set in of the full range of possibilities with the device Mark had created, both boys became giddy in anticipation.
"OK, let's not get ahead of ourselves here," Mark said rationally. "Let's consider this, think about things and talk about it again tomorrow."
"Deal," Roger said as he got up to leave. His mind was already racing about just what they could do with the device.