It’s the story of how an environment can foster talent to grow. To grow so much that it achieves the unbelievable.

In a strange coincidence, it’s also the story of me and Ahmed. Our friendship. It’s intricated. Still related, we grew up in that same fostering environment. But achieving opposite results.

Our relationship was born with the rapidity of a spark turning into a wildfire. Instant click. The first encounter was outstanding. We instantly bonded like magnets. We agreed on everything. We even moved similarly. Everything felt precisely in the right place.

We also shared the same dream. We both dreamt of making it through the Olympics. Winning in the high jump was everything to us. Flying in the air is an incredible sensation. Even if it is for just a few moments. One big push and the obstacle disappears. You are on the other side. And in the dreams, fans chant your name at the stadium. You are the champion.

In retrospect, winning was a dream bigger than myself. But I believed in it.

Our shared goal bound my friendship with Ahmed from the start. The extraordinary attracting force at the beginning is the same that repelled us later.

I leave you to the story. Please consider our dreams were at stake. Don’t judge too hard.

Him

I won’t be neutral about him. My future career was on the line. Also, have pity for us. We both lost a friend.

Training sessions were ever-present. It’s fundamental in an environment that has to foster greatness. It comes at the expensive cost of time. We often joked and chatted during the frequent training sessions. Talking to Ahmed is a strange experience. You seem to hear multiple voices. Was he really one?

There were no problems during training. We trained hard. We trained consistently.

Watching him leave after each session was a bit weird. I eyed Ahmed (or every one of him) leaving after training for a long time. He weaseled out, trying to leave unnoticed. Always behaving like that. Maybe he was hiding a secret. I’m still wrapping my head around that. How is it possible that all these people leaving went overlooked?

Joseph Stalin said, “A single departure is a tragedy; a million departures are a statistic.” Kind of. I’m not sure exactly why I feel this phrase here.

And I

High jump competitions went pretty well. We both won. Our relationship was doing fine, apart from the strange peculiarity of him being many.

The more time spent training, the higher the level of competition. The price we paid to train was high. Sometimes, it felt like I was paying a fee every time I entered. But the service was good. I may be hallucinating. But I remember the price being almost the price of two metro rides.

What’s this strange feeling I have? I thought he had to pay more because Ahmed was many. But, every one of him were exceptionally high jumpers. He always paid less.

Why was such disparity permitted? Maybe a sort of Darwinian-like mechanism was in place. Pushing to eliminate the weakest jumpers.

There was yet another high jump competition. I was determined to prove my worth in this one.

We went there together. I had a fierce fighting spirit at that time. He was not aware of it. I had to pay to reach the place. Ahmed didn’t.

Wow. Why? I was envious of the situation. Furious, I thought how to be a bit of a showoff. I wanted to state dominance early, at the beginning of our travel.

When it was time to pay, I wanted to impress the staff, jumping so high that not even the ticket barrier would have stopped me. He was not going to do the same. I wanted to show he wasn’t a real talent like me.

In my mind, it was a jump so clean, so stunning that he would be envious this time.

I was ready. I started my run.

Ahmed was already on the other side. They had already jumped on the other side. Ahmed was sleek. They were all cunning.

The environment is never going to punish them. It will foster people to be like Ahmed. A generation of jumpers living free of travel expenses.

Beware

Beware, reader. Looking for the hidden meaning will break the magic spell I cast on the words.