Chapter Two: Perfect Trajectory

Lu stepped onto the mat. Golden paths formed, breaking and reconnecting as the panels moved. He closed his eyes and listened to the motor: three short beats, one long. When he looked again, one line flared two seconds into the future. He tapped the putt. The ball passed the left edge of the first gate. The second panel brushed its tail as it closed, adding spin. It struck a rivet on the third, turned ninety degrees, and entered the cup. The motors were the only sound in the warehouse. Han removed his toothpick. “That wasn't luck.” The second hole was a blind rise with an intentionally outdated contour map. Lu swung, but the line shattered in midair. The wind had shifted, and his body could not produce the speed the perfect route demanded.