Sam followed Sarah back across the academy grounds. They were on their way to an administrative building, where the Ruler Esther Livingstone (who was a close friend of Maurice, according to Sarah) waited to test him for whether he truly was a Thread-Weaver. However, for once in his life, Sam wasn’t worried about taking a test or receiving its results. If the nice voice in his head was being truthful when they conversed yesterday, then this test was nothing more than a mere formality, which served to confirm what he already knew. On the other hand, if the test results came back negative, then the voice’s argument was greatly diminished. In other words, if there was nothing that would make him special enough to warrant being returned at this particular junction in time, then he had no reason to follow the voice’s wishes and act as though the whole world depended on him.

Of course, even if the AI was wrong about Sam being the promised savior, that didn’t necessarily mean that he was wrong about the world needing saving. Which meant that there was no reason for Sam to change his mind after having already decided to embark on the path of warfare. After all, magic was cool, and saving people’s lives from evil was even cooler. And frankly, the safe and structured environment promised by the academy was much more alluring to Sam than the prospect of having to figure out this new world all on his own. It was the same reason why liked his university days. Enough to extend them by two years at least, despite his much lower opinion of the academic world they were built upon. They delayed the time in which he would have had to step out into the real world and decide what it is that he was going to do with his life.

There was the possibility of him failing the test and being barred from attending the academy as a result, whispered his anxiety, despite him already being informed that wouldn’t be the case. Thankfully, Sam was able to get over this anxious worry without having to result to pointing out its irrationality (that never worked) by a marvelous usage of doublethink. Being relegated to a regular civilian life wasn’t actually all that bad. And because he wouldn’t even be able to blame himself for this result, there was no reason to feel bad afterwards!

His internal musings were cut short when he and Sarah arrived at their destination. Two flights of stairs later, they were standing outside of conference room 223. “You’re ready to head in?” Sarah asked him.

Sam just nodded and opened the door. Inside the room were three people sat on the side of the table further from the door. Jesus Christ, it’s like I walked into a job interview. If anyone asks me where I see myself in ten years, I’m going to walk out. “Ah Sam, Ms. Khan, you’re here. Please take a sit.” Maurice gestured towards the empty side of the table. I swear to god man… they better not ask me to explain why there is a gap in my resume.

He and Sarah, who was to take a part of the proceedings by default apparently (not that Sam had a problem with that), took their sit at the young side of the table. Sam sat opposite the sole woman of the trio, Esther presumably, and Sarah, to his right, opposite Maurice. Esther was much taller than her two companions and, despite her high status, was wearing very casual clothing. The other stranger, sat to Esther’s right, wore a proper suit and tie and was busy scribbling in a notebook.

“Dan?” Sarah said as they were sitting down. “When did you get back?”

“Two days ago actually,” said the suit wearing stranger, stopping his scribbling for just the moment. “It was still up in the air whether I was going back, but… Your friend’s arrival made the choice clear to me.”

“Are you the other guy that had a sleepless night on account of me wanting to join the academy?” Sam asked. Dan smiled and nodded, managing to keep writing despite staring straight at Sam.

Maurice cleared his throat. “Sam, let me introduce you to Esther Livingstone and Dan Ritter. Esther is here to examine you for being a Thread-Weaver, and Dan is… from the academy’s administration. Do you have any questions for any of us before we begin?”

“No,” Sam said. Let’s get this over with.

“Great!” Esther called, as she leapt from her sit and started floating over the table towards Sam. “Just tell me in case you’re uncomfortable, no need to be polite at my expense.”

“OK,” Sam said, whose face was now mere centimeters away from the Ruler’s searching hands. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“Already? I haven’t even begun examining you.”

“Why does the examination require physical contact of any kind? And even if it does, you’re supposed to explain what you’re doing and why it’s necessary. You don’t jump straight away to caressing people like their some exotic animal,” Sam said.

Esther, meanwhile, went from floating in the air like some cheap vampire to sitting cross-legged on the table right in front of Sam. “I just wanted to check if there was something different about your body that maybe Mauri missed. You’re our first Thread-Weaver Taken after all.”

“While that does sound like a valid excuse, that’s not going to fly with me. Consent. Ever heard of it?”

“I figured it would be alright. Mauri told me how open you are, joking about the size of your privates and what not—”

“Hey! The jokes I tell about my dick are between me and the person I told that joke to. This is a serious breach of doctor-patient confidentially, I’ll have you know. Sarah, tell them.”

“Tell them what? I’m pretty sure you’ve already told me five different jokes about genitals, and we only met yesterday,” Sarah said.

“I’ve only told four, and only if we’re counting the joke I’ve told the soon to disbarred doctor and the joke I’m going to tell now. Make sure you’re writing this down, Dan. But before that, what and why are you writing? If I’m allowed to ask.”

The gray-haired man looked up from his notebook and said, “I’m taking notes of the meeting.”

“OK,” Sam said. “Why are you doing that, and why, for god’s sake, are you using a pen and paper? Did humanity lose the knowledge of those typing machines they used in courtrooms and, for some reason (sexism) only by women when you see them on TV?”

“No, they are still around, and in use by all genders, as far as I know. But I simply prefer to write like this. And as for your first question, it’s so I could reference this conversation later when building your program. I probably won’t, but it’s better for my nerves than doing nothing all meeting. But rest assured, the contents of this meeting will not leave this room without your say so. I prize the privacy of our students most highly.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Dan,” Esther said. “Rub more salt in the wound. Why don’t you? I already said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Sam said. “Now, if you all would please listen to a whole other joke about my junk, only this one is not completely self-derogatory. Sarah, drums please.” Sam got up and found himself eye to eye with Esther.

“No, sit down.” Sarah pushed on his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll sit down. But I won’t let us go back on topic until I’ve exhausted any and all topics related to my unmentionables and the egregious breach of my personal space that has been perpetrated here. Now, may I please proceed with making a farce of these proceedings?”

Sam took a look around the room, making sure he could proceed now that he was committed. Esther leaned forwards, so that she was still at eye level with him and floating a little too close for Sam’s comfort, a big smile plastered on her face. Sarah was pointedly staring ahead with her hands crossed. Maurice was simply looking on impassively. And Dan was still writing in his notebook. What’s he writing about now? No one’s saying anything.

“Anyway,” Sam said, “all I wanted to say on the topic of my, excuse my vulgarity, girth and length. Is that it’s true objective state is not up to speculation by anyone other than myself. And as myself, AKA, the only person who’s ever had access to the complete package in its full visage. I assure you all; my dick, just like that of any other hot-blooded male, is at the very least larger than average. And as long as I don’t accurately measure it, and don’t inquire as to what the actual penis average size is, no one can say otherwise. By the way, this is not the first time that I told either of these two jokes. The second one is really an addendum to the first. I just got too overwhelmed yesterday and forgot to deliver it as well.

“Now… how the hell did we get on this whole bit? No, thank you Sarah, you don’t need to remind me, for I have the memory of a slightly offended suburban housewife. I was simply asking as a segue. The reason we all started talking about my penis—”

“Mostly you though,” Sarah interjected.

“Fair enough. Anyway, the reason is, you!” Sam pointed accusingly at Esther. “You dredged up a joke that I made in the privacy of a hospital room during a conversation with my attending physician. Now I will skip discussing this tremendous affront to my right to privacy and the great harm brought upon the Hippocratic oath. We’ll save this for another time, just between you and me.” And he pointed at Maurice and then back at himself.

“I’ll happily oblige,” Maurice said before Sam could launch back into his multi-directional rebuke. “But I feel that I should let you know beforehand that no lines of medical etiquette were crossed as a result of my actions. In fact, I never actually told Esther anything regarding the details of our conversation. She must have learnt about your joke your joke from the transcript.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“We had a transcript? I don’t remember agreeing to one. When did you even write it?”

“It was recorded. I asked you specifically whether you were fine with me recording what we talked about while drawing your blood. You said yes. You must’ve been distracted. I apologize. I should have made sure that you heard me.”

“Was our conversation recorded as well?” Sam turned to Sarah.

“What? No!” Sarah almost jumped out of her chair.

“Indeed,” Maurice said. “Strictly speaking, there wasn’t any genuine need for you to be recorded at all. It’s just protocol. Originally, the protocol was created to help ascertain whether the new Taken poses a security risk for the republic. But even then, no one took it that seriously. In practice? It’s just used in order to help build your psychological profile. Very useful when you’re dealing with teens who had just recently gone through great trauma.”

“So I’m not being recorded now, then?” Sam asked, mentally shaking his fist at the word protocol. “Aside from the guy furiously scribbling my every word, that is.”

“Would you consider yourself an enemy or a threat to the Terran Republic or its allies in the Web?” Esther smiled mischievously.

“That depends. Are you people going to treat me with the dignity and respect that I deserve as a human being? Or are you going to keep trouncing on my rights and invading my personal space?”

“I feel like this is pointed at a particular someone, but I just can’t figure out who…”

“Other people’s transgressions not withstanding.” Sam ignored her and turned to Maurice. “I must offer you my apologies. I have accused you of acting unjustly, unjustly, and for that, I apologize.”

“No apology necessary,” Maurice said. “Besides, like I said, if you don’t remember agreeing to be recorded, then I’m the one at fault.”

“Yes, well… I wasted enough of everyone’s time already. We should get a move on, no? The reason why we all gathered here today and what not?”

“Right, yes,” Esther said while getting up (or was it down?) from her floating position. Towering above Sam, she asked, “Is it all right if I touch you?”

Fighting the urge to give the only reasonable answer to that question, considering the circumstances, Sam simply responded by saying, “Go ahead.”

The Ruler proceeded to examine both of his hands, taking each of his palms in hers and scrutinizing them for a couple of seconds. She then placed her hand on his chest (above the shirt) and moved it around for a bit. Finally, she held his head in both hands and looked directly into his eyes. Sam definitely didn’t like that part.

All throughout the examination, Sam felt like he’s at the wrong place. As though he went down the wrong corridor and instead of going to a regular yoga practice he went to the one lead by a twenty-five-year-old woman who just returned from her eight years trip to Nepal, who insists that she needs to open all sixty-two of your meridians before she can begin imparting you with the wisdom of Gaia.

In other words, he was promised cool shit but got bullshit instead. Not one iota of whatever magic felt like going in or out of his body. Nothing beyond the touch of another human being on his skin. Granted, that by itself was almost a foreign sensation considering his strict Hasidic lifestyle. But breaking orthodox religious customs aside, the whole ordeal didn’t help any with Sam’s impostor syndrome. Was he supposed to feel something? To stop Esther’s prodding because she was hurting his Thread-Weaving body? Was there anything he should have been seeing, like the faint blue lines that first prompted Maurice to reach his deduction?

He was stopped from spiraling further into self-doubt and good old obsessive anxiety by Esther, taking her hands off of his head and clapping them together. “Done,” she declared.

“And?” Sam prompted her when she took longer than three seconds to respond.

“You have a regular body, unfortunately.”

“So I’m… not a Thread-Weaver?” Sam asked.

“Oh, no. I mean, no, I don’t know yet. I didn’t check you for being one.”

“Then what the hell were you checking?”

“Alright, alright, no reason to get angry. I told you, I had to check if you if your body was special, like ours is. Rulers I mean.”

“Jesus Christ… Whatever. Can we just get on with the actual examination, then?”

“Sure, sure. Let me just make sure what I’m supposed to do.” She flowed back across the table, towards her seat.

Sam looked around in confusion, and Sarah seemed to mirror his feelings. “You don’t know what you need to do for the test?” she asked.

“Obviously I know… I’m just making sure that I’m going to do it right. It’s my first time doing something like this, you know. After all, Thread-Weavers don’t grow on trees. And it’s the elves who get to deal with ours.” After rummaging around in her bag for a bit, she took out a single piece of paper and set about reading it intently.

All of this didn’t inspire any confidence in Sam. What could be so complicated about the exam if Maurice was able to assume Sam’s ability by the fact that Sam was able to see blue lines where there weren’t any in Maurice’s eyes? Couldn’t she just wave her hands around, do magic or whatever, and see if I can see it?

Eventually, Esther seemed satisfied that she digested every bit of information written on the paper in her hand and she put it down on the table. She then made her way back around to tower above Sam once again (although she gave him more space this time). “Alright,” she said, “just stop me when you can see what I’m doing.”

She started slowly moving her right hand around with, judging by the look on her face, intense focus. Sam was pretty sure he was supposed to see something other than the Ruler just moving her limb, but it was always best to make sure. “Um… you’re moving your right hand?”

“Yeah, but are you not seeing anything else? The threads I’m changing? Try and really focus,” she said. Sam didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing, so he just squinted his eyes as though that was somehow going to help him see magic. A minute went by and Sam was still just staring at a woman waving her hand around. “Nothing?” Esther asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” Sam said. He really was trying his hardest, but other than tightening his sphincter, he wasn’t able to achieve anything different. When another minute went by just the same, Esther threw up her hands in frustration, grumbling about “not doing it right.” She went back to her sit, this time forgoing the floating and hopping across the table instead. After picking back the paper back up, she started pacing around with it clenched tightly in her hands.

“Goddamn it! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” She crumbled the paper up and threw it at Maurice’s head. The doctor ably dodged the parchment and, after straightening it out, began to read it himself. Things aren’t looking so good, Sam thought. What if I really am not a Thread-Weaver? If that voice made a mistake? They were actually supposed to take Sam Andres. That’s the problem.

“Why are you sure that the problem’s with you?” Sam gave voice to his worries. “I mean, doesn’t it make more sense that you’re doing everything right and I’m just not able to see it? Seems much more likely that I’m not able to do something than that you’re unable to do something.” He twitched about in his chair, trying to avoid eye contact with the Ruler who had her hands on her hips or Sarah who was looking at him with worried eyes. For a guy who’s so used to taking the piss out of himself and passing it off as no big thing, Sam’s last lines were a really poor showing.

“No, don’t be an idiot,” Esther said, while rubbing her temples. “If you weren’t a Thread-Weaver, then you wouldn’t have been able to see the inner workings of an artifact when Maurice was barely able to discern them.”

“If you’re so sure of me being a Thread-Weaver, then what’s even the point of this examination?”

“I don’t know. That’s what you’re supposed to do with Thread-Weaver. That’s what the protocol is. Call a Ruler to make sure they’re really seeing threads and not making stuff up. Then the Ruler should also try and ascertain just how proficient with the Sight the new Thread-Weaver is. Upping the complexity of the threads until the Thread-Weaver can’t tell the difference between them.”

“Who told you all of this?” Maurice asked while looking up from the paper.

“The same guy that had me write down his stupid, useless instructions! He said that the test is very important in order to determine how best to train a young Thread-Weaver. But! Then he said that if it showed Sam as being more talented than his niece that he’ll have him killed! That stupid asshole! I’m betting it was all a prank he’s pulling on me. Farris, you fucking jerk!”

“Now, now…. Insulting your boss, or in this case, your boss’s boss, never helped anyone who wasn’t planning to quit, anyway. I’m sure that his highness was earnestly trying to help you.”

“He said that if it turns out that Sam wasn’t a Thread-Weaver in the end, then he’ll have him killed for wasting his time!”

“OK,” Sam said, “is that Farris guy joking? Cause I want to know whether to be worried about my life, or appreciative of his sense of humor.”

“He is,” Maurice said.

“Deadly serious,” added Esther in a tone that told Sam all that he needed to know. It seems that I’m not going to get killed just because I annoyed someone important just yet. Although, what a way to fucking go. Making some asshole’s niece look bad by something out of my control. Up till today, I’m pretty sure the only way I could’ve made a woman look bad is by photo bombing her.

“He is not,” Maurice said. “Stop trying to scare poor Sam. Try and focus on how to conduct the test.”

“I don’t know how to do the bloody test!” Esther yelled. “If I knew how to do the test, I wouldn’t have had to go asking the elves for help, now would I? And I’m doing just what he told me: ‘Use a thread connected to the Thread-Weaver in question in order to create the type of thread easiest to discern.’”

“Something must be wrong, then. Sam saw the threads that I barely could. There is no possibility of him not being a Thread-Weaver. We just have to figure out what the difference between the two cases is.”

“Oh that’s great… Really helpful. So the only thing I need to do in order to find out why I’m wrong is to find out why I’m wrong.”

Sam leaned in to whisper in Sarah’s ears, which, considering the distance between their chairs, meant that he’s butt was squarely in the air. “Do you think it’s too late to say that I was joking, and that I was actually able to see the threads?” But before Sarah was able to complete her whirl towards him, he said, “Just kidding. I was trying to ease your tension. It always sucks to see your parents fight.”

Sarah’s response was stopped by the clearing of Dan’s throat. An action that called all eyes in the room towards the man who momentarily stopped his writing. “Esther…” he said. “Did you take into account that Sam has yet to awaken? Of course, I would be the last person to lecture anyone on threads, but it seems to me that without being able to sense magic, one could also not see threads so easily.”

Esther facepalmed. “Of course! I’m such a fucking idiot. I got flustered by Farris and I forgot to mention you being a Taken! Idiot! Obviously you wouldn’t be able to see the threads I manipulated. The only reason you saw the ones from the artifact was that it directly interfaces with your core.”

“There you go. Just have to manipulate a thread that extends directly from Sam’s core. Or… you could use this.” Dan took the same artifact that Maurice tested Sam on yesterday and threw it to Esther. “And check whether he sees the same threads that you do.”

Esther nodded, and once again advanced on Sam, thrusting the artifact into his open hand. “Alright, tell me what you see. In detail.” Sam complied. Trying to give as accurate a description of the different squiggly lines that emanated from the artifact despite his god-awful skill with visual description.

“Still level 0, then?” he asked after a click from the device announced its job was complete.

“Hush now, and what about this thread here?” Esther turned over the artifact and pointed to a section they hadn’t covered yet. Sam described it to her, using his finger to trace how it looked to him because he didn’t see any meaningful difference between this line and all the others with which to describe it.

“So?” Sam asked after she took back the artifact from him and handed it to Dan.

“Your Sight is just as good as mine, if not better. No two ways about it. You’re a Thread-Weaver.”

“Hey!” Sam wagged his finger at Maurice. “Didn’t you tell me the same thing yesterday? What are the chances, huh guys?”