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Prologue
At the pool hall that night, the same faces as always.
At the back table, the old regular was playing by himself.
Every five minutes or so, an “All right” drifted over.
I — So Tamano (thirty, virgin, forever B class, currently a cue ball) — was on the front table.
The young woman and a young guy were playing nine-ball.
Race to five for him, race to four for her.
A handicap match.
Tonight she wore a white knit sweater and a gray skirt.
…No, I’m not looking.
I’m a ball.
Chapter One: The Draw That Died
Three–two, and her turn.
The 6 sat at the far end of the table.
Dead straight.
Pocket it and draw back to this end, and the 7 would be waiting.
She struck me low.
Shff.
Holding backspin, I set off.
Under my body, something rubbed.
The cloth.
As I slide with backspin, the lowest point of me is moving forward faster than my body itself.
The cloth tries to stop it, with friction pointing backward.
That friction slows me down, and at the same time it wears away my backspin.
And they don’t wear away at the same rate.
Measured as the speed at which my surface turns, the backspin drops two and a half times faster than my forward speed does.
“Wait. The draw is melting away before the brakes even kick in…”
…Why do I know even this?
Apparently reincarnation makes you weirdly good at physics.
What a nuisance.
Right as I reached the 6, the backspin ran out.
Tock.
The 6 dropped.
I stopped almost dead.
The 7 stayed far away.
“Ahh…” she said, softly.
Draw is worn away by the cloth while the ball is running.
And two and a half times faster than the forward speed drops.
Chapter Two: A Little Faster
When that rack was over, the young guy got up.
He put the 6 and me back in the same spots as before.
“Same spot on the ball. Just a bit faster.”
He stood beside her.
Their shoulders almost touched.
The two of them leaned in over the 6 from the same angle.
Close.
Too close.
The only time I get to touch her is the instant the tip is on me.
About a thousandth of a second, each time.
In thirty years of life, that is my longest contact.
Shff.
I ran faster than before.
The cloth rubbed at me just as hard as before.
It wore the spin away just as fast, too.
But she had struck the same spot.
So the backspin I started with was stronger, too.
And the time it took to reach the 6 was shorter.
Before it could all wear away, I hit the 6.
Squeak.
The backspin was still there.
I came back toward this end.
Right up to the front of the 7.
“Ohh,” said the young guy.
She turned around and smiled.
Her face wasn’t turned toward me.
Back when I was B class, whenever my draw died on a long shot, I tried to hit lower.
And miscued.
What I was missing wasn’t lower. It was speed.
“Eight years, and what was I even looking at…”
On a long draw, get there before it wears away.
Even so, the distance between her and me doesn’t close.
Epilogue
Closing time came again.
The lights went down.
One by one, the customers headed home.
The old guy went home.
The young woman went home.
The young guy went home.
Once again, I was the only one left on the table.
In the end, the young guy took the fifth rack.
She was one rack away.
“A thousandth of a second, huh…”
In the darkened pool hall, I just stayed still.
— Will my story go on? Or won’t it?
That may depend… on all of you.
Next time (if there is one): The door opens. In come the young woman and the young guy. ...Together?! The reincarnated life of So Tamano, cue ball, goes on... maybe.
