The standoff ended with Brock slowly releasing his grip on Adam, who slowly took a step back, never removing his contact with those eyes.

"Well," Brock began. "Can I help you?" Adam was nearly shocked at the simple question. He shook his head before speaking.

"No, I’m fine."

"Then, what are you doing here?" Adam didn’t answer, refusing to blink for fear of losing those blue crystals, so exactly like his own.

"What," Brock began. The two other jocks motioned for him. Nodding quietly, Brock stepped around Adam, who didn’t move. "I’ll be back." "Corny exit line." Brock stopped for a moment before leaving. Adam stood as the two players blocked the exits. Part of Adam knew he should flee, but his mind protested. There was something in those eyes, something that he had never seen before. Adam waited, when a large, older man entered. He resembled the jocks in body, though smaller and aged. But the power and confidence he carried in his step was the same.

"Who are you?" Briggs addressed the twenty-something boy. Adam turned to face him and held out a hand.

"Adam . . . Adam Turner." Briggs hesitated for a second before firmly gripping the hand. Briggs’ calloused hand grinded against Adam’s smooth palm. Adam stared back at the man.

"What?"

"And who are you?"

"Briggs." Adam stared a moment longer before turning his gaze away. This man’s eyes were dark and empty. Unlike the ones that stood before him earlier.

"He was right."

"What?" Adam questioned.

"Brock. He said that you shared something. Those eyes. So blue." Adam returned the contact with the other man.

"And your's are not."

"No, but then again, they shouldn’t be. Your's are, you must see everything."

"But seeing’s not enough." Briggs continued to look at the boy. Adam was obviously just out of youth, reaching his adult prime. Briggs reached up and held Adam by his chin.

"You are so, identical."

"What is this?" Adam directed attention to the other men in the room. The giant men, the muscle gods.

"Oh," Briggs began. "This, is the future."

"And the present, obviously."

"You," Briggs again addressed Adam. "You, Adam, are so . . . prefect." He ran his hand through the mass of hair on Adam’s head.

"How?"

"You are so identical, in soul."

"No, how is this," pointing to the jocks, "possible?"

"Magic."

"Magic?"

"And science and time and all things." Adam simply stared. Seeing his resolve, Briggs continued.

"You see, this is tomorrow. What it will bring, what the future holds. Happiness is all I bring. Total peace. All I can see."

"But, seeing’s not enough."

"Then what is?" Adam couldn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure what was happening, or even what he was saying. "What, you are searching for something. Waiting to be heard. To change the world. And here, this, you can. You can change the world. You."

"Stop."

"You and Brock, you have the same quality. The desire to change the world. But what will you do? He has a dream, and a mission. As of now, you are saying nothing.

"Stop!" Adam walked by Briggs, heading for the exit. Briggs spoke again.

"Where will you go? What will you do, knowing that you will return here? How can you go on, knowing that you found your path? A path you can see?"

"Because," Adam said again. "Seeing is never enough. You must be able to act." Adam walked out of the room and the stadium. Briggs stood and smiled for minute before sending the jocks onto the field. •