25 robots and me

There’s a man at work whose nickname is ‘The Chance’.

As of late though he hasn’t had much of one. Dumped and heartbroken, The Chance bought two tickets to see a contemporary dance spectacle in a suburb north of Paris.

The dance spectacle was based around two male dancers interacting with 25 remote-controlled objects for one hour.

Bold move buying two tickets, some would say. Even buying one ticket, others might say as well.

With two rejections for the second at late notice, The Chance was confronting the very real chance of having to turn up to the small venue and scalping a ticket outside.

Now, selling tickets to France’s most famous abstract robots performers, Daft Punk, might lead to a healthy profit for the scalper. But I was not so sure about the profit margin on selling one 10 euro ticket for “Daft Punk meets school drama group in dodgy suburb”.

Nevertheless, The Chance doesn’t have the nickname for nothing: because his luck was about to turn. He had one last ace up his sleeve to play. Taking a big breath, he said to me, “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

Of course I said Yes. A chance like that doesn’t come every day.

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