Putting poor Timmy behind him, Sam followed Sarah into one of the stores, unconsciously adopting a defensive posture. The weirdest thing was—in an ironic twist of the constant that was the societal change in the aspects of fashion—that Sam didn’t see anything weird inside. Just like most other aspects of humanity that he’d come across, the store and its wares were all too similar to his eyes.

“I think we should get you about ten to twelve pairs of clothes for normal wear, and double that for sportswear, but we’ll buy those at a different shop,” Sarah said once they were inside.

“Ten?” Sam squeaked. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“It’s so you won’t have to spend a lot of time doing laundry more than once a week. Oh! We also have to buy you some sleepwear and something nice for formal events. And a hat! And a watch. Hold on, let me look at my phone. I’ve written it all down yesterday.”

“Hold your horses. We’ll buy everything that a poor English waif could want. And if we’ll forget something, well, you’ll just have to order it online for me. But before that, I’m still stuck on the amount of clothes, I mean twelve? That’s a bit much. Where would I even find space for all that fabric?”

“If I have enough space in my dresser for all of my clothes, then you will for all of yours. Besides, we’re not deployed yet, you know that, right? You don’t have to go two days in a row wearing the same clothes if you don’t have to…”

“Not all the clothes, just the pants… And the socks; for when it’s winter and I haven’t been outside or worked out.”

Sarah shook her head at him. “We’re buying you twelve pairs of clothes, end of story. Now, what do you want to pick first?”

And so, they went through the store, and when there weren’t enough items in the first one, they moved on to another. They wouldn’t have had to move if Sarah hadn’t demanded that he won’t buy two identical items. Thankfully, she extended the same allowance that she herself had for socks to him as well. Only she still forced him to buy a couple pairs of fancy ones for formal events.

When they finished with the items for everyday use, Sarah had them move on to buying clothes for all the different kinds of weather one might encounter in their corner of New Terra. And when that was done, they moved on to clothes dedicated to be worn while exercising. Here, Sam’s lack of previous experience prevented him from standing up to Sarah’s tyrannical ways. But eventually Sarah went too far, and he had to put his foot down.

“Three pairs of shoes?” he asked incredulously. “Nuh huh, no way. I’m but a simple boy, with flat feet. That’s just a single pair of shoes for me, thank you very much.”

“You no longer have flat feet,” Sarah said.

“True enough. But let me counter, why do I even need three different pairs of shoes? Who am I trying to impress here, the heir to the Hapsburg claims?”

“One pair is for everyday use, the other is solely for running, and the last one is for formal events.”

“OK, I let you pull the formal events card so far, but it stops here. What formal events could I possibly go to?”

“Meeting royalty,” she said and thrust the pair of formal shoes for him to try on. And that too, was that.

By that point, all their ill-begotten goods were starting to weigh heavily on Sam’s newly made, measly muscled arms. He tried bearing it in silence, focusing on the fact that despite the humiliation of being so burdened by just items of clothing, everyone has to start somewhere. But he didn’t put up any resistance when Sarah “offered” to take most of the load off of him by grabbing some of the bags.

From clothing, they moved on to any and all other items that a modern man of the 22nd century ought to have. And ooh, boy, did they break the bank. A laptop, a PC with only the best accessories (to be delivered some time next week), a phone, a smartwatch, headphones (two pairs; one regular, and one to compliment Sam’s running shoes), and pretty much anything else that Sam wanted or Sarah wanted Sam to have. They even bought one of those really expensive electric toothbrushes that Sam always wanted to try out in order to see why it was ten times the price of the regular kind. By the time they finished their entire shopping spree, it was afternoon, so they sat down to eat a belated lunch.

Filling their bellies to their satisfaction, the pair was left without any more duties tying them to the modern marketplace. Struggling with his bags once again, Sam noticed with dismay that at this point, Sarah was bearing the greater burden of his new acquisitions. However, his apprehension at letting himself off easy, before he even began his training, was gone by the time they made it outside and he was almost out of breath.

During the drive back, they kept themselves occupied (and Sam distracted) by setting up his new electronic items, mainly his phone. With the end result being a device that had everything (if not more) that Sam’s old one had, with the exception of a much shorter contact list. Once back on campus, they continued bringing Sam up to date with the 6th century while at the same time arranging all the new purchases inside his room (and by god, if he didn’t hate those fucking stairs before, he did now).

Sam followed Sarah’s instruction as she led him through the differences between the technology he was used to and what was currently used. Which mostly surmised to roughly the same things just under different names. Gone were most of the old programs and sites he was used to, replaced with modern post-apocalyptic alternatives, which usually just meant the same piece of tech just with a different name and theme.

By the time they finished setting everything up, and Sarah brought Sam up to speed on everything that a modern city boy ought to know about the computer, the sun was already setting. Sarah brought up the conversation from yesterday, their promise to work out today, and Sam had to confirm three times that he was willing and able to do it. Mollified, Sarah left him with a promise to meet downstairs in twenty minutes. Couldn’t have been twenty whole minutes just to change, because that only took two minutes of Sam’s time. Sarah must’ve needed a grace period, some time away from Sam, in order to calm down and avoid ending the day by crushing his windpipe.

With nothing left to do but wait, Sam found himself laying listless on the bed but quickly got up once he realized what he was doing. I still don’t have that magic spell to let me fall asleep, so better not to ruin my sleep hygiene just yet. Which was a funny thing to worry about considering that just four days and a hundred years ago, he was spending most of the day on the same bed he was sleeping in.

He got up to sit on the desk’s chair, and opting not to mess any more with his laptop just yet, he took out his phone and started messing with it instead. Which, almost immediately, ended up with him listening to Here Come’s the Sun on repeat, closing his eyes and leaning back. Despite everything, Sam had to smile. He had been thinking about this moment ever since he realized how deep in the shit he found himself in. Not having his usual sanctuary of music was taking its toll on his weary, familiarity seeking mind. Finally, he could lay back, and let his designated emergency song soothe his wounded soul. There will be time for different songs later, but right now, he had a hundred years of the song’s strategic reserves (the HCTSSR) to put to good use.

“Ah, fuck it…” He muttered and plopped himself back on the bed, phone nestled closely to the top of his head. Remembering at the last second to set up an alarm for a minute before he had to get down, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift wherever it would take him. The first and second loops, even part of the third, involved him singing along with George Harrison. But by the fourth, the music and lyrics were becoming background noise to guide his troubled mind along its lonesome drift.

Eventually, the alarm rang out from somewhere above him and he was forced back to reality. Turning it off, he let the phone continue its music while he went to wash his face and have some water. He filled one of the water bottles they bought halfway, drank it, and then filled it once again to the brim. Pocketing his phone, he regretfully turned off the music, and after making sure four times that he had his key on him, started making his way downstairs.

Sarah was nowhere to be found outside of neither his dormitory building or hers. Which meant she either abandoned him, left him behind and gone to make some new and better friends, or she hadn’t come down yet. Both options left him feeling very disappointed with his new friend. I mean, who makes a plan with someone and then ditches them? Or even worse, doesn’t arrive on time? I swear, if she wasn’t my only friend on this new side of reality, I’d… well, I won’t drop her, her ability to stand me is too great for me to give up on her being my friend, but maybe a reprimand will be in order.

Yes… a good old-fashioned reprimand, perhaps something sexist, or maybe—

“Sam?”

“Yeah?!” he shot back at Sarah, trying to mask his surprise.

“Are you alright? You were just standing there, staring at the ground.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s how I do my best thinking. The downcast man. I call it.”

“OK… ready to go?”

“Right behind you.”

“Great. So I think that for today, we’ll do just cardio, maybe some core exercises, we’ll see. But since your body is still not up to snuff, I promise that we’ll take it easy for now.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully I’ll manage. And hey, how about this? First time working out without asthma, it might just turnout to be much easier than what I’m used to.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It didn’t. Turns out that not having a respiratory problem doesn’t equal having a great lung capacity. He didn’t understand just why did his royal pronouned kidnapper couldn’t also make his body a little better right off the bat. I mean, they could give me new legs—and even new lungs, I guess—but they couldn’t make them the same as an Olympic runner’s? That’s just bullshit is what it is. I’m going to have some words with that asshole next time I see them. And if they tell me it’s so that I could also strengthen my will or some bullshit like that, I’m punching them right in my head!

Unfortunately for him, try as he might, raging in the private confines of his mind didn’t make the task before him any easier. Despite being cured of all physical ills, he was in even a worse shape than he was used to from the periods in his life (most of them) in which he didn’t bother even thinking about working out. The end results was him being short of breath just as a result of the warm-up exercises that Sarah ran him through. An hour and a half later, and a minuscule number of laps finished, pushes upped and workings outed, Sam sat, legs stretched forward, on the cooling ground and wished that he was once again unable to feel his lowermost regions.

“It’s really weird,” Sarah said from above him. “You’re in much worse shape than I expected you to be. Probably because you’re an adult; it takes your body longer to acclimate.” The beads of sweat gently rolling along her body were nothing compared to the great puddle Sam was wallowing in. She had to make multiple runs to the nearest water fountain in order to keep him from becoming the product one finds in Swedish tin cans. Sam looked at her in undisguised but obviously faked hatred. Not only did she completely wring him out, but she also had the gall to workout alongside him, finishing a million sets for every one of his. Completely emasculating, and not in the good way.

“You ain’t seen nothing,” Sam said with just the minimal amounts of animal-like grunts. “Back in my heyday, I could finish a lap like this, if I gave it my all, in even double the time it took me today—Ow!” She pushed him on the back, forcing him lower than any human being should ever go.

“At least you’re pretty flexible, right?” she asked, while continuing her violation of Sam’s human right to avoid being tortured. He was already holding on to his right leg. What more could she want from him? Finally, it seemed she remembered that today was the blessed Sabbath and released him. “C’mon, now the second leg,” she said, malice dripping out of her voice like cold butter on frozen toast.

“Let it go, woman! This is madness! It is the folly of man what you’re asking of me.” And yet he still bent toward his other leg, hoping against hope that this time Sarah won’t make him go past the point where it only sort of hurt to the point where it really hurt. Nope. Further down he went once more. However, what Sarah didn’t know, and so couldn’t use to hurt him, was that he was always more flexible with his left leg than his right. Wait, scratch that, he used to be more flexible with his left leg. The one good trait his old body possessed, and it was stolen from him.

One eternity later, “See? Not so bad, right?” said the smiling devil by his ear. “You’ll thank me tomorrow when you won’t wake up all paralyzed.”

“Actually, I won’t because human beings, and me being of course a fine specimen of the species, aren’t very good at recognizing cost that went into preventing damage as a positive, we just see that as a loss. So tomorrow morning, you’ll find me cursing your name because I’m not aware of the fact that I ended up better off than the alternative due to the hardship you put me through.” At least that’s what he tried to say. In reality, he gave up midway after falsely proclaiming himself to be a fine human being.

One would hope that Sam’s great show of restraint, by not speaking his mind, would be reciprocated by an act of mercy and compassion. But one would be wrong. For the hellspawn that was Sarah Khan knew not of these simple Christian virtues. On came the butterfly, fluttering its wings down and down again. And when Sam’s own hands refused to carry on with their illegal orders, Sarah’s hands were there to replace them, pushing down like the scabs they were.

“Alright, now the hands,” Sarah said.

“Fine.” Sam had no recourse but to agree. He was a broken man. Also, his hands didn’t really hurt. But mainly because he was broken, having lost the will to resist like the unrepentant sinner in hell. Two minutes later, he was lying with his back to the ground, trying to decide what hurt him the most. Sarah sat beside him and started going through the very same stretches that she led him through. She made it look so easy, the bastard, and Sam knew that despite the further bending, she wasn’t on the receiving end of the same amount of punishment that she had doled on him.

He watched her in silence as she went from position to position. He really was fucking sore. However, he still had to pat himself in the back. Figuratively, of course; from today onwards, his hands will never be able to reach his back side. All jokes aside, he was feeling proud of himself. He pushed himself, or let Sarah push him, really far. Despite this not being anything close to his most extraneous work out objectively. Subjectively, he was sure the only time he ever came close to pushing himself as far as he did today was that one evening he went running after Minnie had died.

However, unlike that time, letting his emotions supplement his mental will in the ordering of his physical self forward didn’t end up with him feeling any better. There was no catharsis at the end of today’s exertion. Emotionally, he was left feeling just the same as he did before setting out on the first lap. Maybe it was because he wasn’t actually spurred on by his emotions, but by the minor parts of himself that were devoid of enough of his vices to count as his rationality, his logic. He pushed himself today not because it made him feel better (or more accurately, less worse) but because… Because…

Because I have to… I have to. Well… do I really have to? Or is it also because I want to? Goddammit, why are you bringing up this whole topic? It’s not going to lead anywhere. And it doesn’t matter, what’s done is done and I’m going to do what I’ll have to do. For now, let’s just hope that I’ll be able to stand up tomorrow. Heh, now that’s a problem that’s good to have.

“Alright, let’s get you up,” Sarah said, herself already up. Not knowing whether to grunt or sigh in response, Sam just grabbed hold of her hands and pulled himself upwards. Although he was pretty sure that Sarah did the bulk of the lifting, he was still left breathless (after having just recovered to panting) by the time he was back to standing on two very flimsy (but oh so fucking real) legs.

Having apparently recognized the wretched state that he was in, Sarah gave him her shoulder to balance on. “How about I’ll help you to your room and while you’re taking a shower, I’ll go and wash up as well before going to grab us dinner?”

“I like the sound of all of that, expect the parts that involve me moving my body parts.”

“Great. Let’s go.” She had to help him all the way back to his room. The first part of their journey, the great trek back to his dorm, passed fine enough. But then they were met with the greatest obstacle of Sam’s life, the stairs.

“You know…” Sam said. “I’m just now coming to realize it, which only goes to show you how hard it is for people not to take things for granted, but this building isn’t very handicap accessible, is it?”

“It’s a military academy for magical combat. I don’t think they took people who have trouble walking up the stairs into consideration when designing the dorms. I’m sure that the three non-combat oriented academies are built to a more accommodating standard.”

“That’s good to know. But it doesn’t help us in this particular junction.”

“You’re just gonna have to tough it out.”

“Oh, yeah. Cause that’s what I’m good at: toughing shit out. Or… here’s an idea: How do you feel about taking back the phrase ‘princess carry?’”

“Let’s go,” she said and started making her way up the stairs. Forcing Sam, who was reliant on her to keep himself upright, to follow in her footsteps. Up they went. And when that wasn’t enough, they went up once more. But guess what? That wasn’t enough, either. Oh no, that was still short of their goal. So they struggled on once more, Sam from being in constant agonizing pain and being forced to endure even more hardship. And Sarah from being constantly at Sam’s side and being forced to endure, constantly being at his side.

Finally, they reached their goal, and Sam had a moment of genuine fear when he reached into his pocket and found nothing. Fuck, he started to panic just as Sarah inserted the key into the lock. He had given it to her after it fell out of his pocket for the second time. With the door now open, Sam left Sarah’s side and trudged on to the bathroom. From behind him, Sarah said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes… Don’t lie down!” before closing the door behind her.

Taking off his sweat drenched, previously sparkling, brand new clothes and throwing them in the laundry hamper, Sam stepped into the welcoming confines of the shower. Safely ensconced under the hot water current, he tried to keep his movement to a minimum, hoping that the water alone would somehow do the work his hands were the only available tool for. When eventually his skin started turning too pink, he came to terms with the fact that he’d have to take action himself. So he turned down the heat a little and began the scrubbing processes.

Ten minutes later, and after forcing his body’s temperature down by dosing it with cold water, Sam was dressed and wondering where should he sit. The bed was the ideal position, with its inviting depths. But there was a danger in the bed as well. One small misstep and he’ll find himself fully sprawled out and bidding the day farewell. The chair it was then. He could also use this time to meditate, a feat yesterday’s last conscious moments proved he would not be able to accomplish on the bed.

He decided not to set a timer for this session, instead staying still until Sarah came back, however long that will take. Back straight and legs where he felt least bothered by them, Sam slipped into the almost futile endeavor of not getting lost in his wandering thoughts. He achieved only limited success in the process and was in the midst of a very deep think about whether it was right that he spent so much money during the day’s shopping when a knock on the door made him flinch in surprise.

Slowly, agonizingly, he got up and towards the door, letting Sarah into the room. She was carrying two trays filled with food, and set the two of them on the table. “Didn’t know what to bring you, so I just brought the same as mine. Hope that’s all right.” Opening the cover and not seeing anything that he would consider malicious, San nodded his head.

They sat down to eat, each lost in thoughts. Sam’s mostly consisted of worrying about having to clean up after them. And the room at large. And the bathroom. And doing the laundry. But all those other worries could wait. What truly worried him was the prospect of bugs. Little critters coming out of the walls in search of the scraps of food that Sam had missed in his cleaning. “Hmm… is the building fumigated? Or do I need to buy some anti-roach spray? Oh fuck, speaking of sprays… fucking mosquitoes, forgot to buy anything against them. Are there many here, or will I be able to leave my window open in the summer?”

“I think they spray the buildings every couple of months. At the very least, I never saw a bug inside of my dorms. And mosquitoes, you’ll be happy to hear, are among many the species of animals that are now extinct. Yeah.” She smiled brightly at seeing Sam’s bulging eyes. “Obviously, no one wanted to bring them here from Earth. And as it turns out… there aren’t any mosquitoes living on any other worlds in the Web, or at least those that we know of.”

“My god, Sarah! If you weren’t a woman, and personal boundaries didn’t exist, I could kiss you right now!”

“I’ll have to thank god that I am and they do then.” She laughed.

“Indeed. I’m not kidding when I say that this is the best news I’ve heard in the last couple of days. You really ought to have led with this. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, but there was an apocalypse; billions died and Earth is destroyed. But mosquitoes don’t exist anymore!’ I mean, it almost seems like a worthwhile bargain. Hey, I said almost.”

Once they finished eating, Sarah gathered up their plastic trays and cutlery in order to throw them in the trash chute out in the hallway. She spent the rest of the evening once again guiding Sam around the internet and everything that had changed since the last time he was online.

Eventually, Sarah bid him goodnight, promised and extracted a promise that they were going to meet up tomorrow, and reminded him to set his alarm early due to his appointment with Dan. Closing the door behind her, Sam was left alone with only his digital devices and the world wide web for company.