dawn

by nick nelson

the contest had been set for the dawn of the following day, so st george took his sword and went into the desert by himself to meditate and pray. he found a rock on which to lean his sword, and took the sword off and leant it against the rock. he knelt down in the sand, and as night fell across the desert, he thought of all the heroes who had come before hm, and he asked their spirits for guidance. he tried to fill his soul with the strength and singlemindedness he would need for the contest. on the other side of the mountain, the dragon rested. the dragon’s handlers had access to the most up to date equipment the money of the forces of darkness could buy for them. they fed into it all the data they could find on st george, and his previous contests, and his previous opponents. they had videos of all his previous contests, and they broke them down into milliseconds, and looked at them from every possible angle. they fed the machine all the information they had - and it was voluminous - about george’s ancestors and antecedents, his childhood and education, his loves and losses and friendships, and every statement he had ever made on any subject whatsoever, that had been recorded. needless to say, they made the most complete analysis of george’s body, his height, weight, reflexes, recorded speed and strength, blood type, blood pressure, everything that could be analysed, down to the thickness and texture of his fingernails and toenails. while the machine was churning through this information , the dragon - into whom the machine’s final findings could be downloaded in less than a second - slept peacefully. and george, on his knees, continued his prayers and meditations. dawn broke. george from the west, and the dragon from the east, approached the site of the contest.