Campbell squared his feet and crossed his arms. “I’m practicing, ma’am. Why don’t you explain your continued refusal to acknowledge my repair orders.”
Lonnie wasn’t about to back down. “It’s 6:03am, Mr. Campbell. This is not an approved time for individual practice.”
“Just because you didn’t approve it, doesn’t mean it isn’t approved.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lonni wanted nothing more than to slap the confident smirk off his face. “Only Mr. Guerrero and myself have the authority,” as she spoke she knew she’d been sold out by the team’s owner. It was the only explanation for Campbell’s presence. She quickly changed the subject. “Besides, I acknowledged your first two repair orders. After full diagnostics, I twice informed you of the full functionality of your KIP.”
“It’s not working properly. I don’t know how else to tell you, ma’am. Your diagnostics are wrong.”
Lonni hated how Campbell always addressed her as ma’am. It made her feel old, when she couldn’t have been more than five years older than him. What was it with these Texas country boys? “Mr. Campell,” she faced the towering male specimen. She had heard the word ‘prototypical’ tossed around in reference to the quarterback’s physique. Psychologically, the player was clearly a mess. “Have you ever considered that it is your surgically repaired shoulder that isn’t working properly? Perhaps you should try one of the trainers.”
Campbell swore under his breath. “Have you ever considered treating any of the players with a single ounce of respect?”
Lonni snorted. “As if you aren’t getting enough from the fans and the media. I’m sorry, CK, but my job is to respect the technology, not the players. If it bothers you that much—”
“Then you suck at your job.” Campbell brushed past her while tugging off a nano-fiber, circulatory-cooling glove. The players referred to them simply as trons.
Lonni clenched a fist. “And what do you think your doing?”
“I’ve gotta run through the game plan before this morning’s offensive meetings. Broken KIP or not, I’ve still got a job to do.”
Lonni chased after him. “You can’t—”
“Unlike some around here, I take my job seriously, because I aim to be the best.”
“I won’t grant you access to the practice matrix until I’ve run my—”
“Funny,” Campbell stopped in front of the equipment locker controls—the same controls Lonni had shut down moments earlier. “I’ve never needed your permission before.” He pressed his hand onto the DNA lock.
To Lonni’s shock, the system powered on. Campbell strode toward his KIP, forcing her to scamper after him. “How did you…no one’s supposed to have—”
“No offense, ma’am, but it’s pretty self-centered the way you strut around like you own the place.” He palmed open his climate controlled locker, complete with hvac, and removed a towel to expunge the sweat from his chest.
Lonni flushed with both anger and embarrassment as she noticed Campbell’s body—clothed with nothing except his nanos and trons. She focused on her indignity. “I could have you suspended.”
The circuitry of Campbell’s tron illuminated as he slipped it on. “Sorry, ma’am.” He shrugged. “According to my contract, I have every right to be here for at least another twenty minutes.”
Lonni cursed Alejandro Guerrero, the Aztec’s owner, beneath her breath.
“I hope you don’t use that potty mouth around the boss. You know, considering how strongly he feels about projecting family values and all.” Campbell mounted the concave surface of his KIP, formed out of hundreds of ceramic rollerballs. Sixteen inches high and three feet wide, the KIP looked like a huge hockey puck.
Lonni coughed. “I suppose that’s why you’re his favorite.”
“If I was his favorite, I’d be starting against Dallas. Besides, it’s no secret the coaches never wanted me.”
“Speaking of starting, shouldn’t Henderson be here?” She held no punches.
Campbell’s eye twitched. “He gets all the first team reps. I get simulations.”
Lonni opened her mouth for another smart remark.
Campbell shut her down. “Sorry for the bother, ma’am. I know football doesn’t matter to you. But it’s everything to me. If you’re not going to help, I need to get to work.”
Lonni saw through his amateur attempt to pull her heart strings. Unfortunately for Mr. Campbell, her heart had none. “I still plan on taking this up with Mr. Guerrero. No offense, CK, but you being in here unsupervised is a security threat, and it makes extra work for me and my team.”
“Right, more work for you.” Campbell slapped his hands together. The digital ink across his chest and arms sparked to life as his KIP’s electromagnetic field activated. Over 180 tattoos were required to interface with a Kinetic Isolation Pad, otherwise known as a KIP. Taken together with expansive iridescent ink, the tattoos transformed each player into a magnificent Aztec eagle warrior wielding twin deadly macuahuitls extending the full length of the players’ forearms.
Despite herself, Lonni’s breath caught in her throat.
Campbell flexed and spiderwebs of light danced across the digital ink covering every inch of his exposed flesh.
A rich spectrum of static sprang to life deep inside Lonni’s head. She deactivated her EM analyzer with a thought and then checked her time stamp. She swore. Why had she let this over-muscled squeaky wheel distract her for a full 207 seconds? In a huff, she palmed the door of the southern equipment locker and strode hurriedly along the corridor. Half way to the control room, her unwieldy tangle of hair bounced into her face and she realized she hadn’t finished her morning routine.
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