They finished the rest of the meal in silence. Sam decided not to remark upon the fact that Dan had never truly answered his question about why people were looking at him. Being famous was good and well for a casual explanation. But, presumably, for the people here, this wasn’t the first time that they saw Dan grabbing a bite to eat. I mean, sure, you might get super excited the first time you saw Jesus Christ the Redeemer turning water to wine. But by day ten, if he was still pulling the same shtick, you’d probably be a little over it. Sam decided that he’ll simply ask Sarah about this later. Maybe make use of the opportunity to ask her about Dan as a teacher as well, because what was integrity in the face of an existential threat?

After depositing their trays for cleaning up, Dan once again took the lead and guided Sam out of the mess hall and into one of the building that were nearby. Inside, they were met by Sam’s true love—Mistress Bureaucracy. Guided by all sorts of different pen pushers, he first had to complete to information requested of him by the academy itself pertaining to his past education (this was the only part of the process Dan seemed interested in). He opted to not lie on an official government form and left nothing of his myriad of academic achievements out (chief among them was, of course, the one man show he had acted out in tenth grade for literature class).

More information was requested, but alas, not all of it was available to be given. Stuff like previous education was all well and good, but it was always accompanied by asking where said education was given. And it just so happened that Sam had kept the name of his kindergarten in his old phone, so he wasn’t able to tell them where it was that he was taught to count all the way up to ten. Suffice it to say, the forms were not modified in any way to Sam’s particular circumstances.

On and on the forms came, each one with a slightly different set of question, so similar that at first he didn’t notice when the authority behind them shifted from the academy itself to the state at large. In fact, he only realize that because these latter ones were thankfully adjusted to suit his almost unique situation. They also required much less work on his part. Mostly, he just had to sign on the dotted line, confirming that the information presented on the form reached him and that he understood it (whenever he didn’t, there was always a helpful lady named Pearl right at his shoulder to explain it to him) and assenting to the new state it had conferred on him. And so, in only a matter of hours, he was given an ID card, a bank account and credit card, and all other things that a pre-modern man needs to have in order to survive and thrive in modern time.

By the end of it, Sam was working more on instinct than guided by his ever present overly critical and anxious mind. Now don’t get him wrong, he still greatly appreciated bureaucracy and what it represented, and he even had greater appreciation for the importance of information gathering necessitated by the modern nation state. But, there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. It seemed to Sam that the bureaucratic apparatus of the Terran Republic and New Point Academy (and indeed, perhaps that of every other large enough organization) was not meant to be visited upon a layperson all at once. In this only one session, Sam was forced to endure paperwork that for most people was spread out across their twenty-two years of life. Or even stuff that most people are never consulted about. After all, no one asks a newborn whether they consent to becoming a citizen, and they sure as hell don’t ask them whether the information the state has on their birth is true or false.

Still, all's well that ends well. Sam was now a naturalized citizen of the great Terran Republic, able to vote (next election due in three years. Apparently the name wasn’t just for show), pay taxes, and just like Sarah, enjoy a bottomless stipend that even the people giving it to him weren’t sure how it worked. “Bet you wish you weren’t accompanying me now,” he told Dan once they were both seated on a bench outside of the building where they had just spent three grueling hours.

Dan, despite seeming at first to Sam as the quintessential bureaucrat, very much didn’t enjoy the last three hours, and the minute they gave him and Sam the green light to leave, he led the both of them outside to bask in the sunlight once again. His face was currently a picture of receding agony. With his eyes closed, he was looking almost directly at the sun while he kept rubbing his temple. “It is the time we just spent so willfully that troubles me,” Dan said. “So much time that we could have used for something else. But I know, of course, that this was an essential activity, just wish that it could have been done much faster.”

“Not big on waiting for other people, are you?”

“No… I guess not. Should have brought something to write with after all.” Dan smiled half-heartedly. “Anyway,” he said while slapping his thighs and getting up, “we have another appointment on schedule and after that, lunch.”

The next item on the agenda proved to be much smoother than the previous. The nutrition specialist ushered them into his room immediately upon their arrival. And after inquiring after Sam dietary restrictions (there were, surprisingly, none, even back in his old body) and preferences, he quickly wrote down an excruciatingly detailed guide on what to eat each and every meal of the day and which and how much and which supplements to take daily. All of which was supplied by the school, he assured Sam. So as long as Sam didn’t step outside of the academy’s ground he didn’t need to worry about anything.

He tried out this new regimen at lunch, all the while being pelted by Dan with questions regarding his previous education and how much he remembered of it. Surprisingly, once lunch was over, Dan bid him farewell and left him to get to his next appointment all on his own. Apparently, there was a meeting that required Dan’s personal attendance, and he was already running late. Sam was, then, directed to one of the academy’s many gyms, not the one closet to where he was but the one closest to where he slept.

While on the walk there, he messaged Sarah with the handful of questions the day’s morning generated in his mind. “Hi friend! Two questions, well three actually, but two of them are connected: 1. Should I be OK with Dan Ritter being my private tutor? 2. Why the hell did everyone (not everyone, but a lot of people) turned to stare at him when we went to get food (twice!)? 3. Just a random thought, but how long would you say that it’d take you to reach level 10? Thank you.”

Just as he got to his destination, he started receiving replies from Sarah. “Dan is great. Hard to think of anyone who would make for a better teacher for you. Just don’t let him dictate everything and you’ll be fine. Why did he say something to make you worried? Is it about him being stuck at level 10? Because if he didn’t tell you, then you should know that you have nothing to worry about from that.”

“No, he did. And it’s nothing he said,” Sam replied. “I’d have asked you no matter who it was that was designated as my own personal Aristotle. Just want to make sure that I’m not falling through the cracks or anything. That’s my greatest fear, you know? Falling through the cracks of a military institution.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. Having Dan as your private teacher is the exact opposite of falling through the cracks. Just remember not to let him walk all over you once you get your bearings. As for you second question: Dan is pretty famous for those in the know, on par with any of our Rulers, I’d say. And I’d imagine a lot more people are in the know today, with all the rumors flying around from the front. Well, they’re more unconfirmed facts than rumors. Supposedly, his unit got into an ambush a month or two ago, two enemy Rulers to our one. Dan fought alone and killed one of those Rulers before helping to kill the second.”

“No shit. A Ruler? Is that common?”

“Obviously not! If level 10s could fight Rulers so easily, then Rulers wouldn’t be called Rulers, now would they?”

“They shouldn’t be called Rulers anyway!!! There’s someone above them. What are they called again? Chosen?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Now what about a Ruler vs a Chosen? Could the weak triumph over the strong?”

“I don’t know… No, I guess? The difference between Chosen and Rulers is supposed to be even greater than Rulers and level 10s. Why do you care, anyway? Concern yourself with people at your own level, not people who left the levels behind.”

“I don’t have people my own level. I’m level 0!”

“Sub-1!”

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“Whatever. What about my last question? How long would you say until you’re level 10?”

“I don’t know. A level every year and a half is probably a safe enough guess. But I’ll probably pick up speed once out of the academy. Let’s say seven to ten years, hopefully less, probably not more. Why? Are you looking to bet on who makes it to level 10 first?”

“Only if I can bet on you beating me.”

“Sure I’ll take that. Win-win situation. When are you and Dan finishing today?”

“I don’t know. He left me a couple of minutes ago, something urgent came up apparently. How do you know I’m with Dan for the whole day, anyway?”

“He told me yesterday, when he asked me for you phone number. Besides, did you think that I’d just leave you alone if I didn’t know that someone was there taking care of you?”

“OK that’s it!! What’s up with everyone treating me like I’m a baby or something? I can survive on my own I’ll have you know. Here!” He took a picture. “Found the gym all on my own now did I?”

“WOW!!! GOOD JOB! LOOK AT YOU FINDING THE WAY ALL ON YOUR OWN! WERE SO PROUD OF YOU!”

“Enough with the sarcasm. Somehow you manage to have a worst go at it over text than in real life.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“You could, but then you would be lying because a. I haven’t been sarcastic over text with you yet so you have to basis for that statement to be truthful. And b. Because unlike you, I have built my own personality around being sarcastic like Chandler. And goddammit Chandler is funny! So that means that I must be funny as well. Please don’t try to argue over this because this is literally the only thing I have.”

She sent a smiley face in response. Then she wrote, “How are you feeling? Up for another workout in the evening?”

“Feeling better than I ought to be, but I don’t know if it’ll keep up. It depends on how I’ll feel after the training session I have no. But you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Gotcha. Alright, keep me updated. We’re going to have dinner together anyway, so we’ll see where to go from them. Good luck on your weapon’s training!”

“Thanks.” He put the phone back in his pocket and finally stepped into the building. Once inside, his path-finding luck ran out, and he got turned around a couple of times before he managed to find the private training room he was supposed to train in. The size just doesn’t scream “private” to me, Sam noted as he took in the large space beyond the door. The floor and walls were padded with a reddish-brown colored rubber mat that cushioned Sam’s footsteps as he walked to the corner of the room. Once there, he deposited his bag gently on the ground, by dropping it like he was used to doing back when he had used bags, and quickly changed into his workout clothes.

Not knowing what to do for now but wait, Sam sat down next to his bag and got out his phone to continue his very important work once again. He only just settled on which band’s material to review when a broad-shouldered, stern looking man entered the room. He was carrying two sets of wooden spears, two in each hand. Catching Sam’s eyes, he nodded at him. “You must be Sam Anders.”

Sam put his phone in his bag and got up. “That’s me.”

“It bodes well for our time together that you’re here so early,” the man said while walking to the Sam’s side of the room. “Dan Ritter wrote to me that he had to leave you to your own devices. So I should not to get upset in case you’ve had trouble getting here in time. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see his concerns were unfounded. Have you warmed up yet?” he asked while leaning the spears up against the wall.

“Didn’t think about that, sorry. It’s just the last few days were full of people pretty much telling me what to do all the time, so my capacity for independent thinking is not what it once was.”

“That’s alright. What matters is that you are here on time. However, once we’ve settled on a permanent training schedule, and I’m satisfied at your ability to handle the pre-training exercises by yourself, I except to find you ready to start at exactly the time we’ve agreed upon. Let me introduce myself: My name is Lin Jingway, you may call me Lin. If you must, I will allow Teacher Jingway but I’m guessing that we both share in disliking of such an address. I will be, due to Ritter’s insistence, your personal and only combat trainer, until such time as I believe you to be skilled enough to join the common student pool. If you prove either truly talented, or in the likely absence of talent, truly dedicated, I will consider continuing my instructions past that point. All clear?”

Sam nodded apprehensively. Lin’s attitude was in stark contrast to the rest of his experience in New Terra so far. It must have been that the people around him were placating him by adjusting themselves according to the mood Sam set with his often idiotic behavior. Which only served to make Sam feel bad. He didn’t like when people changed the way they acted because of him, at least not when it was people that he didn’t dislike. Moreover, he suddenly found himself confronted with the same thought that had run all through his head yesterday: should he really be taking everything so easy, as he had been so far?

If Lin saw anything wrong with Sam’s response and subsequent quiet, he made no mention of it. He simply sat down in the center of the room and gestured Sam to sit in front of him. “We will start with body scan meditation. And while I advise you to begin and end all of your physical training with five minutes sessions such as the one I will lead you through now, I will only demand that from you during our own sessions. Meditation, as you will soon learn, is a common enough aid for gathering that the academy offers many classes on its various forms. And while I don’t relish looking at meditation simply through the lens of its utility for cultivating, your position is such that utility much be considered first and foremost.

“But, make no mistakes. I am not here to help you cultivate or sculpt your pathways. I am here simply to teach you how to fight. We will not deal with any tracing or patterns—use of magic for combat purpose—during our time together. But only with your physical body and your ability to direct it. The reason I insist on having you practice body scanning is because it is foremost a mental tool for better understanding yourself and your magicless body. However, it is true enough that it could also end up being a very helpful habit from a magical standpoint. Even if you won’t need to better your pathways, you will still need to get to know them. Examining them before and after a workout, simply looking at how they were affected by the natural passage of magic through them and into your body, will help you do just that.”

“One last thing that I should note, if we’re already on this topic: Once you’ve begun to sense your magic and practice gathering, I expect that, like many students, you might like to use some of our time, perhaps during the more repetitive and less mentally stimulating exercises, for that purpose. But there will be no active gathering during our lessons. Remember that when you cultivate, you are always focusing on your magic first and everything else comes second. And while that is quite fine during running or lifting weights, training that is purely physical. It is not so for anything that I will be teaching you. Is that clear?”

“Yeah.” Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “I think so, at least. It’s just that… half of what you said, I don’t really have any idea what it means, sorry.”

“That is fine. If there is just cause, I will reiterate them in the future. But let’s move on for now. I will guide you during the mediation. Even if you are familiar with the practice, try to follow my words to the letter.”

Sam followed along with Lin’s instructions. This was the first time in a long while doing body scan meditation. To tell the truth, he was not very fond of the practice. He always found himself either skipping through the entirety of his body much too quickly or staying in the same region much too long. And how the hell were you supposed to ignore the random stabs of feeling that demanded your attention once you started noticing your body?

Still, he complied with nary an outside complaint and almost nary an inner thought. It was at his cerebral climb of his left leg that it finally dawned on him what he was doing. By God, he had fucking legs again! And he was viewing them through a meditative lens as though there was nothing to it. His mind started to wander from the exercise at that point, looking to rejoice once again at his ability to feel and move all of his limbs. Somehow he was able to go a whole day without the elation and exuberance that the situation demanded of him. And while it was true that the time it took people to get used to positive change was much lesser than the time it took for negative change, Sam still found himself wondering at his ability to completely internalize his new situation in a matter of days. Perhaps it was another effect from his new body and its reaction to magic. That his positive emotions were muted much like his negative ones. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just an ungrateful jackass.

He only tuned back to Lin’s words once he was up to his neck. Mentally chiding himself for starting on the wrong foot (hah! foot!) right of the bat, he turned his full focus to his new teacher’s words. This time he followed Lin’s instructions thoroughly and without any mental complaint, well almost without any, he was still human after all. “Good,” Lin said once they finished their second scan of the body. “Now open your eyes.” Lin was looking at him with stern eyes, as though he was trying to peer thorough Sam to his core. Which might actually be possible in this day and age. “Once you are proficient enough with the basic usage of magic. I will also guide you through the scanning of your pathways.”

Sam furrowed his brows. “And the pathways don’t count as making use of magic during our lessons?”

Lin chuckled and stood up, gesturing Sam to do the same. “That there, is a whole realm of debate and sophistry. I would argue that the pathways are a part of your physical body, although I can already think of many fellow teachers who would disagree with me. But, it matters not. My insistence was that we will not be making active usage of magic during our training. And all will agree that observing one’s pathways does not fall under this category.”

Sam did a little dance in order to bring the feeling back to his legs. “Yeah… I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Even better,” said Lin while walking towards where he had left the wooden spears. “It will give your mind less to wonder about during our lessons. Now, are you ready to begin your training?”