2061.01 Out of Body Experience

[Trebro]

GM Rob McMonigal woke up in an office he didn't recognize, in clothes he didn't recognize, and upon looking at his reflection in a powered-down monitor, a face he didn't recognize.

"What in the hell?" he asked, trying to bite down on his increasing panic.

This must be a dream, he thought. But it was a new one. It felt so REAL.

He took a quick look at his surroundings. It had the look and feel of an office, not entirely dissimilar to his own, but with some key differences. The desk was imitation ivory, with black highlights. He only saw one monitor screen instead of several. Gone were the comfortable chairs that he held meetings in, replaced with more stark ones that even lacked cushions.

"My dream self isn't very imaginative," he said out loud, walking over to the window.

Instead of the Smallest Big City in America, McMonigal stared out at a bustling metropolis, looking for all the world as if there were millions of people in it, instead of thousands. Skyscrapers as far as the eye could see and hordes of people in all different shapes, ages, and occupations. He let out a gasp.

"I take that back, imagination."

Crossing back to his desk, McMonigal heard a loud knocking on the door.

"L, it's Colin. We need to start talking about your plans for this season."

McMonigal smirked. "Colin, eh? Not very imaginative, brain. I bet next thing you'll do, imagination, is give me the anti-Bo Jordan."

Opening the door, McMonigal nearly fell backward as a 58-year old dandy with a mustache from the first years of organized baseball stared back at him.

"Okay, L, what have you got for me?"

"L? Seriously?"

"Oh come on. Please tell me you don't want to be called Eague? How do you even pronounce that? And I'm not going to refer to you as Mr. Control III. I'm your damned boss."

Colin, rather forcefully for a dream figure, pushed past McMonigal, who scraped the back of his right hand against a metal bookcase in the corner, which held pictures of multiple GBC celebrations.

"Ouch," he said stupidly, pulling the hand to his mouth reflexively, licking the blood away.

The copper tang tasted very, very real.

"Do you need a band-aid, or can we get started?" Colin stared at him, looking annoyed.

This was no dream!

"Um, yeah, sure. Sorry, first day nerves. Been awhile since I did this."

"No it isn't. You bounce around like a gadfly," said Colin. "This is your fourth team in four years, Man. Did you hit your head or something?"

"I wish," mumbled McMonigal.

"What was that?"

"I wish I stayed with a team longer," said McMonigal.

"Well let's hope so. We didn't do badly in 2060, our first year, but there's much more to do. Let's get started. The Johannesburg Gold are just starting their legacy."

With no better idea on what to do, McMonigal did just that, looking over the roster and beginning to make suggestions on changes. Fate had thrust him into another body – at least it was one with a job he was good at.