Sammy walked into the Pollock Gym, just like every other Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday this month. He'd paid a little extra for this place, but boy was it worth it.
He signed in, and the proctor handed him a card with a unique identifier number. Today, Sammy was #267.
As he walked towards the
locker room, he saw the Art Room. Through the glass, he could see canvasses of various sizes separated by panels, almost like voting booths. Periodically, a machine would spray paint at one of the canvasses, creating a smear, streak, or other pattern.
Sammy changed and stretched, then walked over to a quadriceps extensor machine. He passed his card in front of a small reader, which acknowledged the swipe, and he selected one of the 256 colors from a touch-screen selector below the reader: right now, he was in a periwinkle mood.
He placed his legs in the correct position, selected the desired weight with the pin, and lifted the weights up. As the weightstack moved up, they tripped a switch in the framework of the machine, which sent a signal to the Art Room's sprayer number 267. A half-instant later, periwinkle latex paint streamed out and diagonally across the canvas.
Nine more reps, nine more motions of the sprayer. The computers in the Art Room had an almost infinite number of possibilities in terms of direction, paint velocity, and lateral distance to work with, and randomized those three on each spray.
"Next set'll be aqua," Sammy thought. At the end of the day, he'd pick up his painting from his previous visit, and give it to a friend, or sell it back to the gym for a small reduction in his membership fee. Who knew what they did with it? Who cared? Rumor was a green period Schwarzenegger was now in an office at Fenway Park, but Sammy didn't know for sure.
All that mattered right now was getting to his hamstrings.