When I was about twelve years old I had used my parent's computer which was a block-y white one with a chunky monitor; we kept the computer downstairs in the hallway near the front door (for some odd reason), and that computer gradually slowed to a crawl and became nearly unusable thanks to my brother and I adding all kinds of search engine extensions to the page because we didn't know better to avoid the numerous pop-ups which demanded our attention.

I understood how the family computer must have felt because my mind had slowed to a crawl; there were too many tabs open of things to think about, too many people trying to get something out of me (good intentions or not). What I needed was a reset – sleep – but that would have to wait until my Meter was back to green.

I checked it again. It was flashing orange; perhaps it had been a steady orange before but I hadn't noticed it right away; with so many distractions I had stopped checking my Meter as much as I had the previous day on the treadmill.

Shortly after passing through the cafeteria and moving down several corridors, I managed to successfully follow the signs and arrows to the exercise area. I came to a large set of open double doors and jogged inside.

The double doors led through to a huge gym-like space. It was as wide as three large school gymnasiums and there was all manner of activity taking place within despite it being early evening. Two dozen teenagers, either individually or in small groups, were jogging laps around the huge space. There were also smaller groups of teenagers doing rock wall climbing in the middle of the exercise area; then there were teenagers doing rope climbing, pulling their way up long white ropes hanging from the ceiling; beneath them were thick blue mattes to cushion their falls if they fell; I spotted a girl letting herself fall, seemingly enjoying it. There were still more activities but I decided I would take a longer look during my laps around the room.

I hesitated for a moment, spotting a dozen scattered Pied Piper officers patrolling the space, keeping watch on everyone. These officers also had firearms. I spotted a Pied Piper officer, who was the same one that I had seen talking with that blonde-haired girl, Sophie, earlier. I was sure it was him by the shape and jet-black colour of his hair; he was a somewhat good-looking guy, boyishly so, with stubble on his face. He was looking down at a touch screen tablet device; I jogged a little closer to him, trying not to be too conspicuous; the tablet he held showed over three dozen orange dots which I quickly deduced matched the general movement of the teenagers in the exercise area. So that's how they keep track, I thought.

The Pied Piper officer looked my way, his gaze questioning but not stern or particularly cold like the others; I picked up my pace and continued on my way. I jogged with the wall to my right; the wall itself was a depressing, concrete gray; the whole of the exercise area was well-lit, but had a depressing atmosphere to it as if all the colour had been sucked out of the place.

I earned a few looks from teenagers I passed thanks to the blood which was still on my overalls. Some part of me liked the attention I was getting, it felt good to be noticed. I pictured what they would see; just a young man, five foot seven inches tall, jogging along; not particularly in shape (in fact, being a couch potato they would see he didn't remotely look the part of someone that could run for many hours on a treadmill), they would see the round face, the blue eyes, the very slight chin and upper lip hair; they would see someone they wouldn't normally look twice at on the street. Someone perfectly ordinary and unimpressive. Except for the dried blood on the overalls; that was why they were looking my way, I was sure, and no other reason.

I had hoped I would fare much better jogging laps around the huge space knowing I was capable of doing so for hours. After all, Abigail had invited me to stay at the facility precisely because I had so much potential worth learning more about. After my previous feat jogging in Lintern's Gym, and fighting back as well as I managed to against Tommy, I must have imagined myself to be much more physically capable than was really the case. After just one lap around the room, which given its size wasn't something I would consider a small feat for my previously ordinary self, I was flagging hard. Breathing heavy, red-faced, sweat building under my armpits, heartbeat thumping. It didn't help that the cut on my gum still hurt (though my cheeks, which had been dealt a number of blows from Tommy, felt fine) and there was still a stiffness in my neck and upper back. So much for super healing, I thought.

I did another lap. When I reached the same starting point by the double doors I stopped, bent over, and fought for breath. My Meter was still flashing orange. As much as I wanted to stop and go sit down I knew that if it went red then the Pied Piper officers in the room would know and they would, most likely, escort me off somewhere where I would have to sit and wait to either blow up, or for my Meter to return to orange or green. No rest for the wicked, I thought again.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I was about to set off again but stopped myself. My conversation with Robert earlier sprang to mind. Power, I thought, I have power. So why don't I tap into it? That was one of the things Robert was getting at, right? My breathing slowed, I caught my breath and then let out a shaky sigh. A strange sense of clarity struck me then. From the moment I had been evacuated from my home, to where I was standing, I had been on a treadmill of sorts; moving but not getting anywhere; struggling but not gaining much of anything for it. I was a mouse on a wheel.

I clenched my fists so hard they started to tremble. Take control, I thought to myself, make something happen for a change. An idea had occurred to me whilst I jogged the first two laps, I had tried to put it in the back of my mind because of how silly it was. But, I decided, it was at least worth a try. I had a theory and it was time to put it to the test. After taking a quick look around I moved off to my left, making room for the teenagers that hadn't stopped jogging and were passing me by. I tried to pay everyone no heed as I closed my eyes. I slowly widened my stance and stood with my closed fists close to my hips. I probably looked goofy, like some anime-loving nerd copying what he had seen on TV, but I didn't care. This was worth at least one attempt.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and imagined my entire body becoming stronger. Strangely, this reminded me of the many times I had done the same thing growing up when playing alone. At least twice growing up I had made the same birthday wish: I wish to become stronger. It was a simple boy's wish. Stronger meant physically tough, bigger, cooler; being strong meant being reliable, and reliable people made friends easily. I wanted to make friends so that meant I needed to be strong. My wish hadn't been granted because all the other boys at school, it seemed, were stronger than me. They had genuine friendships too. Eventually I managed to make a friend, but that had been during sixth form, after secondary school had finished. I thought about my friend again, the very same sixth form friend, and wondered what he was doing right about now. Had he been caught and evacuated like everyone else, or had he successfully managed to avoid it all?

Nothing was happening. The moment passed. I opened my eyes and let out a long sigh. I smirked, though I wasn't finding anything particularly funny. I felt a little embarrassed for trying what I had just attempted. I had wished to be stronger. My Meter was still flashing orange. I needed to get moving. I would need to work myself into misery like last time, would likely get that sunburn look all over again; I would have to exhaust myself to my limit.

It was then I felt the strangest sensation I had ever felt all over my body. In one sudden rush my body tensed up, every major and minor muscle seeming to grip and tighten. With a sudden jolt that lasted just a moment I could feel a sudden subtle difference in my body. It wasn't that I felt stronger all of a sudden, but I did feel as if my body were a coil that had been wound much tighter than before. I felt my right bicep with my left hand and could feel the muscle tensed beneath the blue fabric; more or less the same size, possibly a tiny bit bigger, maybe, but undoubtedly tensed up.

I patted down my stomach; same tense feeling, it resisted my fingertips and closed-fisted knocks in a way that my usually soft stomach didn't; not by a huge amount, but very, very subtly. Externally I don't think I looked any different, the teenagers passing me by didn't seem to take much notice of me (especially since the novelty of the blood on the front of my overalls had likely worn off). I reached down and felt my legs; they too were tense. Coiled up, I thought, that was exactly how it felt. More than anything I wanted to get moving; I was set and ready to go.

Excitedly, I started jogging again. This time the difference was substantial. I felt as if the wind were on my back. I moved at a true jogging pace, not just barely jogging, but at a speed that was essentially try-hard, it was a show off kind of speed. Initial move off to jogging steady lasted a matter of seconds. I couldn't help but laugh and look around excitedly. There were a handful of teenagers in front of me jogging; I quickly caught up to them, passed them, and looked over my shoulder at their different reactions to me doing so; some were bewildered, others likely thinking 'what's he trying to prove?'.

I faced forward, I didn't care. This felt great. I kept going, jogging just shy of a running pace. My body was working hard to keep up, but in a fluid, efficient way, like a well run machine. I didn't feel like I was close to burning out and having to stop from a stitch anytime soon. I was simply in motion letting my body propel itself along. My idea had worked!