I had always dreamed of becoming a famous football player not purely out of love for the game, but as a way to escape that suffocating, miserable poverty.
I wanted fame.
I wanted to live in a vast palace filled with servants, to eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and to live a happy life free of worries, pressure, and constant thinking.
Just matches… then rest.
But now, I think I was wrong.
World Cup Final , Year 4090
Commentator:
A penalty kick in the 90th minute for National Team A! This is their final chance to come back and equalize. And now, stepping forward, the young striker , the lethal finisher who rose from the poor alleys to the world stage, carrying the hopes of his nation. But is this the right choice? This penalty kick doesn't just change the result of a match… it could change the fate of an entire nation. A whole people place their hopes on the young man: Mark.
Mark placed the ball on the penalty spot.
The roar of the crowd was no longer clear it had turned into a dull ringing in his ears.
His breathing grew heavy, and his boots sank slightly into the damp grass.
He lifted his head.
The goal looked narrower than it ever had before.
He saw the angle…
The angle that had never betrayed him.
Then
It vanished.
In the stands, civilians and politicians alike, young and old, everyone began to pray.
Eyes closed.
Time stopped for a single second.
The ball was struck.
He missed it!
The referee's whistle tore through the silence.
The match was over.
Mark remained standing, frozen at the center of the pitch, staring up at the sky.
Tears streamed down his face without resistance.
Only minutes ago, they had been chanting his name.
Now, the name was no longer spoken.
Just piercing whistles and voices he could no longer tell apart:
Were they insults… or death sentences?
Mark (to himself):
I always saw it… why did it disappear this time? The perfect angle how did I miss it? I destroyed my country's dream. I destroyed everything.
But…
How could a single penalty kick lead to the destruction of an entire nation?
Since the year2500 , countries were no longer known by names.
After the collapse of the old world order and three devastating wars, the powerful agreed on a new system:
Ranking instead of identity.
Who you were no longer mattered—only where you stood.
Countries ranked from 1 to 10 were the advanced states: protected, untouchable, decision-makers.
After them came the lettered states, from A to Z, nations still in development.
Then came the marginalized and deficient states, ranked from –1 upward.
Every one hundred years, the world was reclassified based on achievements in politics, military power, sports, education, and medicine.
The higher a state climbed in the ranking, the more privileges and protection it gained.
My country had advanced in every field over the last century.
We were almost at the top.
Only one point away from replacing State 10.
Winning the World Cup grants two points.
If we had won the final…
We would now be a numbered state.
And a numbered state meant one thing:
No one dares to attack you.
Capital of State A — Government Headquarters
Council of Ministers Meeting
Minister of Defense:
Mr. President, we have detected suspicious military movements by State B along the northern border.
President:
After our failure to join the numbered states, State B will resume its attempts to seize our northern territories.
Strengthen the defenses and deploy the army to the border immediately.