CHAPTER 492: 1

The snow was falling in London. It covered the streets in a soft white blanket.

Alex sat at his kitchen table. He was eating cornflakes.

On the table, next to the milk jug, was a gold medal.

It was heavy. It had the words FIFA World Cup Champion engraved on it.

His mum walked in. She was holding a laundry basket.

"Alex," she said. "Move your medal. I need to wipe the table."

"Mum," Alex said. "This is the World Cup medal. Only twenty six people in the country have one."

"That is very nice," his mum said, spraying cleaner on the table. "But if you get milk on it, it will be sticky. Put it in your room."

Alex sighed.

He picked up the medal. He picked up the trophy (which was a replica, because FIFA kept the real one, but it still looked shiny).

"And hurry up," his mum added. "You are late for school."

"I am a World Champion," Alex said. "Do I really need to go to double geography?"

"Yes," his mum said. "Plate tectonics do not care about football. Go."

Alex put the medal in his pocket. He walked out the door.

The cold air hit his face. It felt good. It woke him up.

He walked to the bus stop.

A car pulled up next to him. It was a bright red Ferrari. It had reindeer antlers taped to the roof.

The window rolled down.

Mark was sitting in the drivers seat. He was wearing a Santa hat and sunglasses.

"HO HO HO!" Mark shouted. "GET IN THE SLEIGH, PROFESSOR!"

"Mark," Alex said. "You cannot drive."

"My dad is driving!" Mark pointed to the driver seat (it was a left hand drive car, so Mark was actually in the passenger seat). "I am the navigator! TO SCHOOL! AT THE SPEED OF CHRISTMAS!"

Alex climbed in.

"Did you bring it?" Mark whispered, looking at Alex pocket.

Alex pulled out the medal.

Mark eyes went wide. He touched it.

"It is real gold," Mark whispered. "If we melt it down, we can buy so many pizzas."

"We are not melting it, Mark."

"Fine," Mark grumbled. "But I am hungry."

The school assembly hall was packed.

The Headmaster stood on the stage. He was a tall man who always looked like he had just smelled a bad egg.

"Silence!" the Headmaster shouted.

The students went quiet.

"Today," the Headmaster said. "We welcome back two students. They have been away on... unauthorized leave."

The students giggled.

"However," the Headmaster continued. "They appear to have brought something back."

He pointed to the door.

Alex and Mark walked in.

The whole school stood up. They cheered. They clapped. It was louder than the stadium in Qatar.

Mark waved. He was wearing his silver World Cup runners up medal around his neck. He was also wearing a cape made of tinsel.

Alex walked quietly. He held up the gold medal.

The cheering got louder.

Maya was sitting in the front row. She was clapping politely. She pointed to her watch. Alex nodded. He knew what she meant. Do not let the fame go to your head. Statistics say fame is temporary.

After the assembly, they walked to the playground.

Milo was waiting behind the bike sheds.

Milo was wearing a long trench coat. He looked suspicious.

"Pssst!" Milo hissed.

"Hello Milo," Alex said.

Milo opened one side of his coat.

Inside, there were hundreds of pens. Blue pens. Red pens. Gold pens.

"THE SIGNATURE MAKER!" Milo whispered. "ALEX! I AM SELLING PENS! THESE PENS ARE GUARANTEED TO MAKE YOUR AUTOGRAPH WORTH MILLIONS! I RUBBED THEM ON THE WORLD CUP TROPHY! (I did not really, but nobody knows that)."

"Milo, you are selling normal pens for five pounds," Alex said.

"IT IS THE STORY THAT MATTERS!" Milo said. "ALSO, I HAVE A RUMOR."

"A rumor?"

Milo looked left. He looked right.

"Real Madrid," Milo whispered. "They want the Professor. They offer one hundred million pounds. And a castle. A real castle in Spain."

"I do not need a castle," Alex said. "I have a geography test."

"THINK OF THE DUNGEONS!" Milo shouted. "YOU COULD KEEP MARK IN A DUNGEON!"

"Hey!" Mark said, eating a sandwich. "I would escape. I am too fast for dungeons."

Alex walked away.

Rumors were just noise. Like wind resistance.

He had a job to do.

Arsenal were top of the league. But the season was only half done.

And there was a new monster in the Premier League.

A monster who did not play in the World Cup. A monster who had been resting. Sleeping. Charging his batteries.

Erling Haaland.

Manchester City.

Saturday. The Etihad Stadium.

Manchester was grey and rainy.

This was the biggest game of the season. Arsenal vs Manchester City. First vs Second.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

He looked at the City players. De Bruyne. Rodri. Dias.

And Haaland.

Erling Haaland was huge. He was blonde. He looked like a Viking who had been built in a laboratory.

He was staring at the wall. He was not blinking.

"He is a cyborg," Mark whispered to Alex. "Look at him. He is downloading updates."

"He is just focused," Alex said.

Haaland turned his head. He looked at Alex.

"World Champion," Haaland said. His voice was deep. It sounded like stones grinding together.

"Hello Erling," Alex said.

"You played many games," Haaland said. "You are tired. I slept for six weeks. I ate cow hearts. I am full of power."

"Cow hearts?" Mark asked, looking sick. "That is disgusting. Have you tried croissants?"

"Meat is fuel," Haaland said. "I will run over you."

"I am fast," Mark said bravely.

"I am inevitable," Haaland replied.

They walked out.

The stadium was blue. The noise was loud.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was a clash of styles.

Arsenal played "The Dynasty". Smooth. Technical. Intelligent.

City played "The Machine". Powerful. Direct. Robotic.

In the fifth minute, De Bruyne got the ball.

He did not look up. He knew where the robot was.

He crossed the ball.

Haaland started to run.

Saliba tried to hold him. It was like trying to hold a train. Haaland pushed Saliba away with one arm.

Haaland jumped. He was two meters in the air.

He headed the ball.

BOOM.

The net ripped.

Goal.

One zero. City.

Haaland did not smile. He sat in the lotus position. He closed his eyes. He was meditating.

"He is recharging!" Mark yelled. "Unplug him!"

Alex stood in the center circle.

One zero down. against the champions.

"Okay," Alex thought. "Physics lesson. Force equals mass times acceleration. Haaland has mass. He has acceleration. We cannot stop the force."

"So what do we do?" Jude asked.

"We remove the mass," Alex said. "We make him chase shadows."

Arsenal restarted.

Alex dropped deep.

He started to pass.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He did not pass forward. He passed sideways. He passed backward.

He invited the City press.

Bernardo Silva ran at him. Alex spun.

Foden ran at him. Alex turned.

Haaland watched. He did not want to run. He wanted to stay in the box and score goals.

"Come on!" Alex shouted at Haaland. "Come get the ball!"

Haaland grunted. He stepped forward.

Then he stepped forward again.

He was leaving his zone.

"Now!" Alex shouted.

He played a pass to Odegaard. Odegaard flicked it to Saka.

Saka ran down the wing.

Haaland was stuck in midfield. He tried to run back. But he was big. He took time to turn.

Saka crossed.

Mark was there.

Mark was small. But he was fast.

He got in front of the defender.

He volleyed the ball.

Goal.

One one.

Mark ran to the corner. He sat down in the lotus position. He closed his eyes.

"I AM ALSO MEDITATING!" Mark screamed. "I AM ONE WITH THE PIZZA!"

Halftime. One one.

Steve, the manager, was intense.

"They are angry," Steve said. "Haaland is angry. He will come out hard. Do not fight him. Be water. Flow around him."

Second half.

The rain fell harder.

The game became a battle.

Sixtieth minute.

Haaland got the ball. He ran at the defense.

Gabriel stepped up. Haaland smashed into him.

Gabriel fell.

Haaland was through.

Ramsdale came out.

Haaland shot.

Ramsdale saved it!

The ball bounced out.

Alex picked it up.

He looked up.

The City team was high up the pitch. They had committed everyone forward.

There was space.

Alex started to run.

Rodri tried to tackle him. Alex did a "La Croqueta".

He was in the open field.

He ran forty yards.

He saw the goal. Ederson was off his line.

Alex could shoot.

But he saw something else.

He saw Haaland sprinting back. The Cyborg was running at full speed. He wanted to make a tackle.

Alex waited.

He waited until Haaland was right behind him.

He felt the ground shake.

Then, Alex stopped.

He put his foot on the ball.

Haaland could not stop. He slid past Alex like a bowling ball on ice. He slid ten yards and ended up in the net.

Alex was alone.

He chipped the ball gently.

It floated into the goal.

Goal.

Two one. Arsenal.

The Arsenal fans went crazy.

Alex stood there. He tapped his temple.

"Calculated," Alex whispered.

Haaland stood up in the net. He looked untangled himself. He looked at Alex.

For the first time, the robot smiled.

"Good trick," Haaland said.

"Physics," Alex replied. "Inertia."

The final ten minutes were scary. City threw everything.

But Arsenal held on.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Manchester City 1.

They had beaten the champions.

Alex walked off the pitch. He was soaked. He was muddy.

But he was top of the league.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a raincoat made of plastic bags.

"THE WEATHER MAN!" Milo shouted. "I PREDICTED A STORM! ALEX! THE GOAL! I AM SELLING UMBRELLAS! THEY HAVE HOLES IN THEM FOR VENTILATION! DISCOUNT PRICE!"

"Milo, umbrellas with holes are useless," Alex laughed.

"IT IS FASHION!" Milo insisted.

Alex walked into the tunnel.

He checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Haaland velocity: 36 km/h. Your velocity: 32 km/h. But your braking distance was superior. Friction coefficient wins again. By the way, tomorrow is chemistry. We are making explosions. Do not be late."

Alex smiled.

Explosions.

He looked at the league table on the wall.

Arsenal: 1st.

The Dynasty was not just a dream. It was a machine.

And the Professor was the engineer.

"Hey Mark," Alex said.

Mark was walking next to him, holding Haaland shirt. It was huge. It looked like a blanket.

"Yeah?" Mark said.

"Chemistry tomorrow," Alex said.

"I love chemistry," Mark said. "Can we turn lead into gold?"

"No," Alex said.

"Can we turn water into soda?"

"No."

"Can we blow something up?"

"Maybe," Alex said.

Mark grinned. "I am going to blow up the school."

"Please do not," Alex said.

They walked out into the rain.

The World Cup was over. The Premier League was on fire.

And Alex Finch was just getting started.

"Season Two," Alex whispered to the rain. "Let us make it a good one."

He got on the bus.

He closed his eyes.

He could see the equations in his head.

The geometry of the next goal.

The physics of the next trophy.

The chemistry of the perfect team.

The Professor was ready for class.