A SportPunk Story by DavidNadas
I come from a lineage of great surfers dating back to the 21st century on Earth. My name is MoonDoggie, a name one of my French ancestors had given to her first born son, a name that could not be repeated for ten generations; so that would be, me.
I was no one special until a botTOG, named Hurn, rec'd a clip of me free falling down the face of Phaedra 18-C. It was on a dare and I was attempting a slide-in backside on a hotMELT. But things didn't go as planned and I had separated from the hotMELT and did a slomo vertical 360 but managed to get it all back together as if I had planned it that way. Hurn's clip made me famous as faraway as Sagittarius-Carina and I was splashed onto the cover of sineWAVE. These days, I can't hit a break where someone or something doesn't yell out, "Hey MoonDoggie! I dare you...." And that's when the shit happens. And it's weird shit.
The baggage that comes with notoriety has been mounting, so much so that my traveling buds are few and I don't blame them; there's a circus of bots chasing me these days, hoping to land the next cover and galactic stream. They're as reckless as the razor scarabs you'd find at Noah's Cove on Xeries; don't open your mouth or they'll find their way in and punch out your chest. My late friend, Oyen, had found that out the hard way. These days I travel solo.
So here I am on Cyan-B, having used the last remaining koins earned from that clip to get me here, bouncing my way through a couple of tokamak gateways, then knowing a guy who knew a dude running calibrations on a neckerCube who got me the last jump all the way back to the Orion Spur. The dude had also provided me some bogus metaProfs to use as chaff just before the last jump to throw off any botTOGs shadowing me. Guess it worked, not a one in sight.
It looks like Twig's forecast had been spot on, the surf looks awesome, and as far as I know it's the first time anyone has ever been here. I didn't find out why until after I landed and read through the hyperLogs; turns out there's a large amplitude dark matter wave just outside Joule, the binary star system I'm in, and my chances of successfully having gotten through that without being ripped to pieces, was like... well... one out of every 3.14. Lucky, lucky, lucky me. I must be down to five lives now. Getting out in one piece might drop me to four.
There's a feeling only surfers get when coming across a virgin break and here I am... staring out at one. The fact is, I've never surfed in water; I mean Earth-like water, H2O with a salinity of 33 ppm. But this is why I had dragged an oldie from Earth, a 5.8 FocusFlex, quad-fin, V2 by DaveySky. This stick had been handed down through the generations and hasn't been used since it was custom carved for the first MoonDoggie back in 2017. And there are very specific conditions to be met prior to its use:
● White powdery sands [check]
● Turquoise water [check]
● Suns overhead without a cloud in the sky (ok, the kit mentions just one sun) [check]
● Surface water and air temperature holding at or above 80F [check]
● Shoulder to head-high right point-break [check]
● Light offshore breeze [check]
I'm using it.
It actually felt good with the suns on my back and my feet buried into the sand as I read through the manual, which had all sorts of crazy vids associated with it, like: paddling, posture, duck-dives, pop-ups, drop-ins, cut-backs, aerials, etiquette, you name it. This should be a space-walk for me.
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