The Beijing Olympics were mere months away, and Mao Sen Loo felt deeply depressed. His training had been going well, and he'd avoided all the usual injuries, but his race times were not progressing as coach Yamagoshi wished. Mao was unable to break the ten-second barrier - the benchmark for Olympic team selection. Without that crucial time, he would fail himself, coach, team, and country.

It was vitally important that the hosts put up an excellent show at these games. Also, the Communist party offered very high rewards for medallists; especially winners of the coveted gold.

Mao waited, poised upon his blocks. The starting-pistol  raised.

"On your marks... get set..."

"Bang!"

Mao rose like a leviathan. His heart racing, his legs and arms pistoning fiercely, his breath cannoning into and out of his lungs. The track stretched a thousand miles ahead, he seemed to be walking, no, crawling towards the finishing line.

The line, reached.

Mao Sen Loo's time: 9:84 seconds

Coach Yamagoshi called over, "You velly fine splinter."

Mao was ready now: let the games begin.