Nate roused drearily to his door pounding. He managed to roll himself out of bed and drunkenly navigate his way to answer his reverberating door. It feels like I was only asleep for five minutes. Throwing the door open, he looked down to find Jenna fully dressed and looking at him expectantly.
Sudden fear surged through his blood. Shattered skies, I’m late, aren’t I?
“You’re not late. Yet,” Jenna answered him without prompting.
“But I would have been if you didn’t wake me up when you did,” Nate finished.
Jenna stared sleepily at him without answering for a moment. “Well, are you going to get ready for the day or what?”
Nate’s eyes widened before he hastily turned and tripped over… something, landing flat on his face. Scrambling to turn around and shut the door before he could embarrass himself further, he caught Jenna trying diligently not to laugh and suppress her smile with all her willpower before he slammed his door closed to get changed.
A dozen minutes later, he was (mostly) ready for a new day, having quickly showered, changed, and brushed his teeth. He glanced at the clock, noticing he was right on time to leave as promised. He opened the door to find Jenna leaning against the wall.
“This isn’t going to be a thing, is it?” she questioned him, though she still held a great deal of mirth in her countenance.
“What isn’t going to be a thing?”
“Me being a poor man’s alarm clock. You aren’t going to make that a thing, are you? Cause I’m a lot more than an alarm clock, you know.”
“Right. You’re also a- what was it again? Right,” he snapped his fingers, “a dating sim walkthrough.”
“Pfft,” she swatted at his chest with the back of her hand before turning to leave. After a few steps, she called back without turning around, “You’ll want to tuck your shirt in today.”
The uniforms for the Heroic Program for Gate Delving consisted of various shades of brown. At least it was brown for first-years. Khakis, brown shoes, brown button-down, brown belt. It wasn’t an eyesore with the varying shades of brown, but it certainly seemed… monotonous. He glanced at Jenna’s outfit, who had apparently decided on a dress skirt and short-sleeved blouse (all various shades of brown again), before catching up to her.
“It’s very… brown,” Nate muttered to Jenna as they walked quickly across a campus seemingly untouched by last night’s mayhem.
“Our year is brown,” Jenna spoke as if shrugging noncommittally, though their pace made an actual shrug unlikely. “Fourth years are black, third years are white, second years are gray.”
Nate narrowed his eyes momentarily before remembering Jenna was an Oracle. “Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I can’t wait to get into those grays next year.”
Jenna gave him a sharp look before responding. “No, our year is brown. Not ‘first years are brown’. Everyone in our class will stay in brown until we graduate. We’ll get some sort of markings as we progress to delineate our specialties and whatnot, and the dress code gets a lot less strict as the years go on, but we’ll be wearing a lot of brown for the time being.”
“That’s depressing.”
Jenna tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I’d think gray or black would be worse.”
“Doubt it.”
“You’re just looking to be mad at something today, aren’t you?” Jenna challenged.
“Not really. I truly believe that there isn’t a color more shit than brown.”
Jenna gave Nate a side eye, doing her best to suppress the wry grin forming on her face. “I can’t believe I walked into that.”
“Best practice is to wipe your shoes,” Nate shrugged absently.
Jenna gave him a quizzical look before understanding struck. She chuffed a laugh. “I fully thought you were going to make some sort of comment about the Oracle not seeing where a conversation was headed.”
“Maybe, but then you’d only mispredict the future once. I just got you twice,” Nate teased.
Jenna’s shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh. “Dammit Nate. That’s not how the future works.”
“Pfft. You’re just jealous I got you again.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Twice in a row.”
“You aren’t even listening to me anymore,” Jenna frowned.
“You really stepped into a big pile of brown there.”
“As opposed to you, who magically appeared in your outfit this morning?”
Nate gave her a sidelong grin. “Now you’re getting it. Man, what happened to that shy girl on the train who barely spoke a word?”
“I’m not actually shy, you just… it was a weird day for me and I was really nervous, okay?”
“Oh, that’s why you looked like I was going to strangle you the first moment we were unsupervised. Cause it was a weird day for you.”
Jenna groaned. “Can we please just drop it? Pretend the whole train incident never happened?”
Nate nodded in consideration for a moment. “Jenna, I don’t think a lot of people understand how Reading works.”
“I’m quite literate, thank you,” she replied flatly.
“You pick up your toothbrush and that’s what it is: a tool. You brush your teeth with it and forget about it. One day when it’s old and worn, you toss it away without a second thought and get yourself a new one. I pick up a toothbrush and I see its entire history. I see its purpose, its design, its intention when it was made. I see the idle thoughts its user had while brushing their teeth. The inspirational moments that made thoughts click together. I can tell how good its user is at brushing their teeth, and whether or not they preferred left or right, top or bottom. I know the spots in their mouth they habitually miss. The toothbrush tells me everything. Everything. I guess what I’m trying to get at is: us Readers, we can’t forget the past- we are the past.”
“Cool story, bro,” Jenna razzed. “Your mom make you memorize that speech?”
Nate shrugged. “She ranted something like it at my dad once. Thought it was pretty poignant.”
“Poignant?” Jenna smirked.
“...Yeah?”
“I do not think it means what you think it means,” she quoted at me.
“Whatever,” Nate kept his laughter under his breath, turning his attention back toward campus. More students clad in shades of brown piled into the walkways and sidewalks, all destined for the meeting hall once more. Orientation. The official start of the school year. The building already loomed over them, its doors open and waiting to devour the students throwing themselves inside. Making a note to keep touching to a minimum while inside, he still couldn’t suppress a shudder passing through the threshold.
They made their way to the auditorium and down the aisle to seats three rows from the front. Apparently the student body had taken Dean Anderson’s warning about filling up the front rows to heart this time. Probably a good sign. Speaking of the Dean, he sat on the edge of the raised stage, seeming content to simply swing his legs as the new year filled in their seats. Nate and Jenna sat there for a moment, looking around the room for any familiar faces and finding none. A general buzz of conversation hung in the air, requiring any particular person to speak more loudly than necessary to converse with another person, which added to the general noise in a cycle of growing background buzz. Neither Nathaniel nor Jenna seemed particularly interested in contributing to that cycle, so they waited quietly.
After another 45 or so minutes, Dean Anderson finally stood up and picked up the microphone from its stand as a large screen unfurled from the ceiling.
“Good morning, first-years. Glad you managed to find your way back here. For the most part. You’ll notice there are already some empty chairs in here. I’ll let you ponder on that meaning for a moment, but that subject isn’t on today’s agenda. You see, today is for you: people who can follow instructions- people who have an inclination of what duty entails. As such, you’ve taken your first steps down the path of becoming a Hero. Congratulations on clearing the first hurdle. I’m sure you’re aware of the screen behind me. I’m going to flash a few names on that screen to stay behind and meet with me after everyone has been dismissed for the day. So if your name shows up, be sure to stick around after I’ve done the general dismissal.”
Everyone’s eyes instantly glued to the screen, hoping their name didn’t pop up. Whatever the Dean had wanted to keep those people around for couldn’t have been good. Especially if it took up more precious free time.
A list of 20 names slowly scrolled up the screen, Nathaniel Leone being the very first name on that list. His shoulders slumped at the thought of spending more time away from Imbuing practice. It wasn’t until he saw Jenna Harris on the list that his mind connected the dots. “That’s the list of our year’s Elites, isn’t it?” he whispered. She grinned and winked, putting a finger up to her lips. Nathaniel paid more attention to that list, going over the names of his future classmates and competition.
Nathaniel Leone
Tobi Negembe
Mi
Nico Vale
Andrea Reed
Connor Vale
Jenna Harris
Fiona Tigris
Harmony Iziri
Wren Li
Dominique Hacel
Anthony Lamelli
Sheila Dame
Indrus Flammentos
Blanc Lenore
Bianca Romanov
Huxley Finnalee
Tara McGill
Gustav Klein
Garret Brown
Looks like Huck made it too. Nate was relieved to see it. He hadn’t seen Huck since last orientation even though he lived next door. Hopefully, he’d gotten into a better headspace over these last few days.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Alright, so those are the ladies and gentlemen that need to stay behind. Moving on. Welcome to the Heroic Program for Gate Delving, or HPGD as you may come to call it. The dropout rate is high. Very high. That’s mostly because this course is mandatory for your age, and very few of you sitting here are capable of reforging yourselves into becoming capable and effective Heroes from the whiny and angsty teens you are now. The rest of society still appreciates you for who you are and in fact needs people like you to keep it ticking. Even if your heart is set on gate delving, there are plenty of civilian-side jobs that support delvers, hell some jobs even get to enter gates once they’ve been cleared. All that to say: when you get cut from the program, it’s not really an issue. Most people aren’t Heroes, and there’s plenty of work to do elsewhere.”
For their part, the audience took that news without much of a reaction. The statistics didn’t exactly surprise them, having grown up in a society where most people were in fact, not gate delving powerhouses and the hope of humanity despite a mandatory gate delving program for anyone with a Trait.
“Didn’t think that’d phase you, but still good starting ground to cover,” Dean Anderson continued after getting the read on the room. “That’s the bad news. Here’s some better news: everyone check under your seat.”
Nate frowned curiously and reached under his chair, feeling the hard bottom under the cushion. A few excited shrieks from the crowd behind him made him continue his search until he felt some sort of shallow edge. It had a sort of shape… a rectangle.
“Under each of your seats is a brand new study pad. That’s right. You get a study pad. And you get a new study pad. And you get a new study pad. Everyone gets a new study pad!” Dean Anderson announced, pointing randomly into the audience.
Nate’s fingers finally managed to pluck the device from underneath his seat and held it up in the dim light. It didn’t look like much, just two metal half-rectangles with rounded edges attached to each other. When he pulled them apart, a holographic screen extended between the metal panels. He’d used study pads before, but getting the newest model was always nice. Next to him, Jenna seemed likewise familiar with the device she held up, already flitting through what looked like information on Gate U and class syllabi.
Nate, however, had a different task in mind. His fingers quickly searched for the definition of poignant. He briefly glanced at the words, smirked, and elbowed Jenna for her attention, pointing out ‘Poignant: causing strong feelings’ with a braggadocious grin.
Jenna rolled her eyes, grabbed Nate’s pointing finger and moved it so he read the next four words: ‘of sadness or distress’. She gave him a look before pointing back to Dean Anderson.
“That’s right: yours to keep, courtesy of tax-payers nation-wide. Try not to disappoint them too much. So now that’s both the bad news and good news out of the way, which leaves us with introductions. I’ll be bringing up your first year professors one by one, they’ll give a short speech of who they are, what subject they teach, and what they expect from you as students-”
Nate zoned out. Long-winded speeches followed for hours as each member of the faculty gave their what-for. Honestly, Nate couldn’t remember even the first professor’s name or what class they taught halfway through their own speech. He sat there. He tried. But the information was like a looming wall threatening to collapse over his head. Hours passed as information flew over his already hyper-saturated mind. He didn’t even recognize Jenna waving her hand across his face.
“- Nate? Nathanielllllll? Helllllooooooo?”
Nate blinked and recoiled from the hand waving in front of his face, taking another moment to realize the hand belonged to Jenna.
“Blue skies above, Nate. I was starting to worry you went comatose.”
“Ha ha. I wasn’t that bad.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so either until Fiona came over and offered us free sandwiches if we left with her right then.”
“What?”
“We’ve been dismissed for lunch?” Jenna led.
“Really? When?” Nate jerked his head to a rapidly emptying auditorium.
“About five minutes ago now.”
“Wait,” Nate’s expression dropped in realization. “Fiona. She’s the sandwich girl?”
“Fiona Tigris. Yes, she’s the sandwich girl.”
“She came by and offered a free sandwich?”
“Yup.”
Nate narrowed his eyes. “Don’t joke about this. I missed a free Fiona sandwich?”
“Phrasing,” Jenna rolled her eyes, “but yes.”
“Bullshit.”
Jenna chuckled and shook her head. “Let’s not worry about that. Come on. You need food. Today’s gonna be long.”
“If she offers sandwiches, you slap me back to myself, do you understand?”
“A sandwich wasn’t the only thing she offered,” she muttered under her breath darkly.
“Wait, what? What else did she offer? Jenna? What else did sandwich-girl offer?”
“Nothing that meant anything. Let’s go.”
Lunch was a quick affair, where Jenna helpfully summarized the important classes for the near future. The freshmen schedule was relatively simple, further simplified for the Elites. Both Expedition and Tactics would cover mornings every other day, with a short break for breakfast, followed by Administration and Trait Advancement classes to cover the rest of the mornings for the respective days. After a lunch break, each freshman could fill their schedule out with a slot for an elective, and they’d each end their day with combatives class. In this schedule, Elites would differ from normal students by having their mandatory Administration class, whereas Administration for non-elites would have to be taken as an elective if they so desired, otherwise freeing up that time slot for an elective or free period. Nate’s eye was twitching by the end of even her brief summary. With a sigh she flashed her study pad at Nate, showing him a sketch of their weekly schedule.
“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday will be Expedition and Administration days, while Tuesdays and Thursdays will be Tactics and Trait Advancement. Here’s our afternoon block for electives, and we end each day with combatives,” Jenna pointed out helpfully. “It’s a pretty full schedule, honestly. Probably going to be a lot more challenging than either of us are prepared for.”
“Can we talk about something else? I don’t think I can handle more scholastic talk right now.”
“Ohhh,” a third voice spoke out from a distance. Nate and Jenna turned their heads to see Fiona approaching with a sly grin on her face. “What finally got him to come back to the land of the living?” she arched her eyebrows playfully a few times. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended. I’ve never had a man remain so unresponsive after whispering in his ear. Especially after what I offered to get you to wake up again.”
“Yeah, I heard about the sandwich thing. Real bummed out about that,” Nate sighed.
Fiona grinned, laughing silently to herself. “A sandwich? That was just the first offer.”
“Hi, Fiona,” Jenna sighed. “Congrats on- wait, nevermind.” Her eyes grew large as she slapped her hand to her mouth, nearly letting the knowledge about the list of elites out too early.
“Oh, that list thing?” Fiona arched an eyebrow and took a seat at their table with casual ease. “It’s, what, the list of Elites, right? Tier IV or higher? I think everyone on that list knows exactly what that list is for, you don’t have to worry about letting that bit of information slip. Helps that we get that chit with our Trait potentials, you know?”
Nate still had his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, muttering ‘A sandwich was just the first offer? What’s better than a sandwich?’ to himself as the two women spoke with one another.
Jenna nodded her head as confirmation. “It’s not the Elites I’m worried about finding out. The non-elites-”
“-Please,” Fiona interrupted and held up a hand, “just call them Normies or something. Regulars? I don’t know. Non-elites is such a mouthful.” With a grin, she elbowed Nate and winked at him. “If you woke up when I tried, you could have given me a mouthful.”
Nate frowned in confusion, muttering, ‘We would… share a sandwich? No, that can’t be right.’
Fiona gave Jenna a flat look. Jenna folded her arms across her chest, returned the look and shrugged.
“He’s either gay, or you’ve got your work cut out for you. Maybe both,” Fiona frowned in sympathy.
“His brain’s a little fried from over-lecturing,” Jenna answered with a touch of hostility. “Would you please leave him out of your scope?”
“Ooo, does the little huntress have him sighted herself?” Fiona couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
“If he gets distracted with a girlfriend now, there’s a very large chance he’ll wreck himself right out of the HPGD. Especially if she breaks his heart.”
“Are you certain you aren’t goalkeeping? Or is it more like ‘if I can’t have this toy, no one can?’ I think it’s the latter,” Fiona narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion. “You looked into your futures and, what, it’s a disaster? But you met him and you like him and can’t stand the thought of anyone else being close?”
Jenna’s bottom lip curled downward before she gave Nate a look. By some miracle, his burnt-out brain was too occupied with processing the proposition of a sandwich to be part of the new conversation. Still, she gave Fiona a bit of a stink-eye for talking as openly as she was. With a small huff, Jenna leaned forward. “This is what no one seems to understand: there is no ‘the future’. There are ‘can be’s and ‘may be’s and even some ‘definitely’s, but no ‘the future’. I’m not worried about what you think I’m worried about because the roads that we travel aren’t preordained. Even if you were right, and I’m not saying you are, all I have to do is guide us to a road where you aren’t right anymore. A gentle nudge, and we hop off that old ugly path and onto wonderful pavement to take us to a different eventual present. Time, patience, the right words, an impulse acted upon that wasn’t in another present- ‘the future’, if there is such a thing, belongs to the Oracles. But right now, we’re both exactly where we should be. Thank you for your concern. I’d appreciate it if you stopped from further meddling.”
Fiona sat back from the verbal barrage. “That sounds… really manipulative.”
“Whatever choice everyone makes is entirely their own decision,” Jenna shrugged indifferently. “Besides,” she rested her elbows on the table, leaning towards Fiona, “I’m not even changing roads. Just yelling out the window for the dumb deer to move somewhere else so she doesn’t cause a giant flaming wreck.” Jenna gave a smile that never touched her eyes.
Fiona sat back, her lips forming a small ‘o’ even as she laughed. “You definitely aren’t the pushover I first thought you were. Yeah, I think we can be good friends.” Giving Nate, who seemed to be nearly aware again, a quick glance she added, “and I won’t be… stepping on your toes again. So to speak.” She blinked a few times before bouncing her head side to side, “Not seriously anyway.”
Jenna arched an eyebrow. Fiona winked back at her and left to return to the auditorium.
“Nathaniel Lione,” Nate spoke aloud and frowned to himself.
The sudden eruption of his own name caught Jenna off guard. She turned her head to blink at the boy several times in confusion before just staring at him with a questioning look.
“I don’t think she was talking about sandwiches,” Nate concluded. “But I also don’t think my name is anything close to a mouthful to say. I don’t get it. Was she going to whisper my own name into my ear?” Nate bobbed his head, reconsidering the notion. “I guess that might be a thing for some guys.”
Jenna shook her head, unable to keep the genuine grin from her face.
“What?” Nate asked seriously. “Is it really that funny? Am I missing something?”
“Yes. It was a joke well past its expiration date. The only reason it’s funny at all is because you missed it so badly.”
Nate rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Too much thinking. Too much lecture. Too much boring. My head hurts.”
“We can just sit here for a bit in silence, if you’d like,” Jenna offered with a shrug.
“That sounds nice.”
After about five minutes of closing his eyes, breathing deeply, and letting the sun shine on his face, it was time to head back to the auditorium for more orientation. Just the thought of sitting through more ramblings gave Nate a level of anxiety he could hardly cope with, but Jenna assured him the second half of the day would be much easier to get through. Given the promise of an Oracle, Nate felt a weight lift from his chest. Not the entire weight, but enough to be able to marshal himself and rally. His brain still felt like it was wading through shin-deep muddy water.
By the time they had seated themselves in the auditorium again, Dean Anderson looked ready to begin part two.
“Alright,” the Dean’s voice boomed over the microphone, “looks like just about everyone is back. Good. So now part two. Your first assignment will be to form groups of five, and we’re going to do a scavenger hunt. I know, it sounds childish, but it’s a good way to break the ice with your classmates and simultaneously familiarize yourselves with our campus. Be warned: yes, this is your first graded assignment, and yes, it will count toward your GPA for the HPGD. Each group of 5 will get two lists to complete, one pink list and one orange list. Both must be completed before 5 P.M. today, when we reconvene back here to go over the results of your assignments. Professor Marvin here,” he motioned back toward a lanky man carrying a stack of papers, “will be handing out your lists once you have your groups. Before you go rushing around, I’d like to see the list of students I’d announced earlier come and meet me in the back room behind the stage. Once the door is shut, the rest of you may begin with your assignment.”
Nate arched an eyebrow at Jenna, who nodded at him before standing up. He followed suit, excusing himself around the rows of students, feeling every eye split between himself and 19 other students. Curiosity, anger, jealousy, defiance, and a need to prove themselves pierced the defensive shell of his mind as decades of toil and emotion surged through his skin every time his hand so much as brushed the row of chairs to his left as he shuffled clumsily past the still seated row of students to his right. Calling out the elite class is apparently tradition. Generations of awkward shuffling flitted through his mind’s eye as ghostly images-some of which he recognized- of decades past made the same trek up toward the stage and into the backroom. These were the powerhouses that society had been built upon. These were the shoulders he now stood on. These were the lives laid down to buy time for another generation- the bodies who forged the road, the blood that painted it- the sacrifices that formed the foundation his generation and generations yet to come were built upon. These were the first truly significant steps of his entire life: awkward, shuffling, and clumsy as they might be. Nate took in a deep breath unable to shake the feeling he was partaking in a sacred ritual, stood up straighter, and finally made his way to a main aisle.
Uncertainty filled the faces of every student, their questions and guesses clearly written in their expressions of wonder and slow movements. Dean Anderson simply stood up, turned his back to the room, and exited through the door without uttering another word. The assembled students followed suit, some chancing a last glance back to the main student body before disappearing through the door at the back of the stage. Nate never looked back, never gave a questioning glance, all too certain of where his next steps would ultimately lead.