He made his way out of the building and under the fake skies, with their fake orange hues almost completely faded. He felt only a small pang of anxiety at the sound of the unfamiliar ringtone (there was an ongoing internal debate on whether to go back to the old one or find a new one) which was always something to be proud of. The last vestiges of anxiety dispersed once he saw the caller.
“Hey! I just finished my last class of the day. How about you?” Sarah asked.
“Also. Dan let me go barely two minutes ago. Most definitely because we ran out of time and not because of something I said.”
“I don’t get it. Was that a joke? What did you say?”
“Don’t worry about.”
“Fine. I’ll just make you tell me at dinner. We are still meeting for dinner, right?” Sam had no recourse but to assent. Not having anything better to do definitely helped with the decision-making process (he wasn’t going to argue that making a playlist counted as something more worthwhile to do than meeting with friends). He hung up the call and started making his way towards the mess hall that’s closet to halfway to where they both were. It seemed Sarah failed to realize that as a weak and enfeebled person, Sam deserved the lesser walking distance to dinner. Or maybe she did take that into account, but she also took into account her being a woman and thus of a frailer and more pitiful physique.
The incredibly long and unfair walk proved to require only a little exertion thanks to the cool evening air, and Sam was very appreciative of the fact that he had yet to start sweating by the time he got to the mess hall. Sarah was already waiting when he got there and pulled him into a hug without even consulting with him first. “So how was your day?” she asked once she let go of him.
Sam grunted. “How about we get going and start grabbing food before you start interrogating me? It’d be more efficient time wise that way.”
“Oh… you’re just grumpy cause we’ve been a part for so long.” Sarah teased him with a smile but still began walking into the building.
“I’m not grumpy. Only little kids and dwarves are grumpy. When an adult male is in a foul mood, it’s called brooding. And when a middle-aged woman reads about one such male in one of her romantic thrillers, it’s called swooning.”
“I don’t think you’re serious enough to be brooding. You’re too lighthearted. A brooding guy can’t make a joke about middle-aged women reading habits,” she said while they grabbed their trays and began hunting down their meal.
“Nevertheless, I demand that from now on you will not consider me in any adjective that I have not previously allowed or that can’t be used to describe Aragorn, both movie and book versions.” Sam was mentally trying to recall what he was supposed to eat for dinner today and when that wasn’t enough, he got out his phone to look at the nutritionist’s recommendation.
“I’ve never seen the movies.”
“As long as you read the books, that’s fine. Just as well, really. Who knows what little movie trivia remained public knowledge after all these years? A viewing of the Two Towers without all participants being aware, or being made aware, that Vigo broke his toe in that one scene is made lesser for the fact.”
He suddenly stopped in place. A biological thought had just occurred to him. “So… quick question, I was advised to take daily protein supplement, as I’m sure you can see, along with a bunch of other stuff. And that just made me think, if protein is OK, and we are in the middle of a life and death war where we need to be in peak physical form, why are we not—”
“Using steroids?” Sam nodded in mute confirmation. “So without even going into a discussion, whether steroids would be helpful to us, not to mention healthy in the long run. It doesn’t matter, because they don’t work anymore. Two reasons for that: One is that our new bodies are using magic in addition to all the hormones our body naturally creates to grow to build themselves. The second is that the hormones themselves also have a new magical quality to them. Essentially steroids are lacking a magical component that we haven’t figured out yet in order for them to work. Protein still helps because it is a basic enough component to not be affected by magic, so the same old supplements still work.”
“Well, I don’t actually know what steroid actually are or how they work. So I’ll just have to take you at your word when you say that they’re not going to help me,” Sam said as they sat themselves down. “Guess I’m gonna have to go at it natty. Which, sure, it isn’t the worst fate in the world. But it also isn’t the best.”
“At least your balls aren’t gonna shrink.”
“Why are you saying it like it’s a positive? A whole new body and those two still look like a just cause for medical intervention.”
Sarah laughed. “My mistake. So, now that we’re sitting, how was your day?”
“It was alright, a little painful in the middle, but otherwise I mostly sat and signed or learned stuff.” He began regaling her with the short version of the day’s multitude of events. Mostly focusing on how difficult the combat training was and trying to further gauge her stance towards him fighting with a spear. She made no comment in disagreement with the choice and a couple more showing her favorable opinion on it, so Sam finally had to let it go. At least until Web-Web showed their face again and Sam could grill them on it.
“So what did you tell Dan that might have caused him to kick you out?” Sarah asked once he finished his recounting.
“It was just a joke. No wait, I meant that I was just joking when I told you about him kicking me out. But I also happened to have told him a very stupid joke just as we were finishing. You know what? I take it back. That wasn’t a stupid joke. Sexually explicit? Maybe. Sexist? Not any more than the was the norm in biblical times. But it definitely wasn’t a stupid joke, quite the opposite actually.”
“Go on then.” She motioned for him to regale her with his tales witty and sophisticated. Sam did just that, omitting to mention what he was really thinking about when he inquired into the body’s role as a possible magic storage. Sure, Sarah could probably read between the lines even better than Dan could, but that was no reason to say it outright. No one needed to hear him bitch and moan about the same old fear every time his brain latched on to it.
“How do you even know that story?” she asked him once the retelling was complete.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I never heard of it. So it’s not one of those biblical stories that everyone knows about, right? Like David and Goliath, for example. But you don’t seem like the kind of person to be more intimately familiar with the bible than most people.”
“I don’t know… I don’t think that the story of Samson is that deep a cut. Sure, my maternal grandmother was Jewish, but that heritage didn’t confer me with any theological knowledge. Honestly, I think it’s just one of those things that everyone knows about from birth, a priori synthetic. Like how Rome was the capital city of the empire or how all Parisians are forced by the municipal government to act like assholes to tourists. It’s like, you mentioned David, right? Everyone knows about him hardcore cucking that dude. Sending him to die in a war after he saw his wife bathing, on the roof… Hm… Yeah, I take it back, that’s not it. It’s the song. I just realized that it’s the song. That Judaism loving Leonard Cohen and the seventy hours he spent writing one single song. That’s where I know the story from.”
“Good thing you remembered then. Going to add it to the playlist?”
“Well… the cover version. Only old people prefer the original.”
“Poor Leonard.”
“Don’t think about it like that. Think of it as me helping me bring him even closer to religion in death. I mean, what’s more Jewish than having your original piece of writing serve as the basis of a more popular version?”
“Whatever you say… In any case, I’m sure Dan doesn’t think any less of you because you made a stupid joke.”
“No one was suggesting otherwise. And the joke ain’t stupid.” Sarah opted not to contest the point any further and the rest of the meal passed quickly while they exchanged amicable small talk (the amicable mood even survived Sarah’s admission that she also hadn’t read Lord of the Rings). “So anything I should be doing with all this free time I have laid down before me?” Sam asked her once they left the mess hall.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not your teacher. I’m just your fitness instructor. And since you’re not planning to work out anymore today… Of course, if you don’t have anything better to do, you can choose to accompany me even if you’re not going to work out. I won’t say no to your company and I can still show you how to do the exercises that I’m planning for us to do tomorrow, saving us some time.”
“Sure, as long as I don’t have to do anything, I’m game.” Sam motioned her to lead on. “Are you going to work out tomorrow as well, then?”
“Of course.” Sarah thumped on her chest. “Physical exercise twice a day; once cardio and once strength training, every day except Saturday. Usually I do cardio in the evening, but I switched them for today because I wanted you to join me.
“Jesus Christ, that is insane. There’s no way I can keep up that sort of regimen.”
“Obviously not. You also don’t need to at this point. Once a day, six days a week, will be enough for you until you can get some of the important patterns going.”
“Great, so I’m only working myself halfway through the bone and not all the way. At least until I get to level 1. Which patterns are the helpful ones, anyway?”
“Restorative ones are the most important, of course, at least until we get to higher levels. They help with muscle growth and repair, making the exercise less strenuous, that sort of thing. The problem is they need to be constantly active in order to have an effect. So you can’t just ask Maurice or Dan to brute trace the pattern for you.”
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“Any can’t they just regular trace for me? Dan said that it’s like sending the body’s natural healing into overdrive.”
“Tracing into the body is the most common tracing, but it’s not regular tracing. And no, they can’t do that. It’s unhealthy to have someone else’s magic coursing through your body on a regular basis.”
“Why not?” Sam asked. “Wait, finish the part about the patterns before I forgot.”
“Ah, fear not. I’ll do them at the same time. Because the reason for that has to do with the second type of patterns that I have for working out. So remember how I said that steroid are less useful because magic is also used to build our body? Well, that’s an understatement. The body of a high level is going to be way stronger than what their frame might suggest, because it’s been nourished with magic. Basically, every time we destroy muscle, it’s then rebuilt stronger with magic. The same thankfully goes for our bones, tendons, etcetera, but to a lesser extent since we don’t constantly rebuild them. That’s what the patterns are there to help with. Sure, they also help with the muscles enrichment, but as long as you workout regularly, the muscles are going to be pretty full most days. The patterns’ main job is to help the rest of our body, the parts we can’t easily work on, draw more magic than they naturally do. Did you get all that, or was I being too confusing?
“No, I think I got it. Sounded like pretty basic body reinforcement; magic makes your body stronger and what not. But is the amount of improvement based on level or on time?”
“Technically both. Higher levels have better patterns available to them that help increase the amount of magic your body can use to improve itself. Making things up, but just for example: let’s say something like five times the nourishment for a level 7 pattern when compared to how much the level 1 pattern does in one day.”
“So if I saw a level zero like myself, at the same age but with an even shittier musculature, if such a thing were possible, who would kick whose ass?”
“I don’t know? You probably? But you don’t need to worry about that at all. The reason why working out and being in shape is so important is not because it will allow our base strength to be like Superman’s, but that patterns can only amplify our base strength. But patterns are still the real game changer. For example, if you were level 10 with the same body as you have now, and went against a forty-year-old level 10 bodybuilder who didn’t use patterns, you would wipe the floor with them. In other words: Let’s say that at most, that bodybuilder would be twice as strong as he would’ve been before the Integration, without magic. That’s a lot, sure, but not that much in the grand scale of things. So yeah, if were hulked out and went against a puny sub level 1, you would kick their ass.”
“Excellent,” Sam said, twirling his fingers in an impression that hopefully hasn’t been lost to time. “Let my reign of terror begin. Now I just need to find a way to fix steroids, and I’m good to go.”
“Getting there all by yourself is completely out of the question?”
“I should say so. Look, I like physical exercise just as much as the other guy, if the other guy also doesn’t get much endorphins from the act. But even if I did like it more, it doesn’t mean much when I’m dealing with freaks like you who can work out twelve times a week. At the end of the day, I’m just a regular guy with a regular mindset who needs his regular podcasts in order to muster the will to train. And it just so happens that all of my podcasts are now a limited resource. They can’t just make a Conan O’Brien in a lab, I’ll have you know. You need to find a disfigured and inbred Irish redhead, whose external ugliness is just the tip of the iceberg. Then, you have to thrust him into a strict catholic upbringing coupled with growing up in the heydays of the cold war on the outskirts of the city with the most ridiculed American accent. And even after all that, you’re not guaranteed anything. You need to pray that he’ll manage to suppress his natural inclinations long enough in order to breakout into show business. It’s all very—How did we get on this topic?”
Sarah shook her head. “Good question. We started on the which patterns I have for working out, but from there… It’s all you.”
“Well, that’s obvious. To work out, I need podcasts. And up to now, my rate of working out never ran the danger of me running out of the only podcast I listened to while working out. But it’s fine. I’ll manage. Somehow. Six days a week, right?
“That would be my advice. I guess that it’s alright if you take it easy for the first couple of weeks, while you get into shape. But only those few weeks. Pretty much all students here work out at least that amount. Besides, once you’re able to, you could use the time you exercise to gather as well. Killing three birds with one stone.”
“Three?”
“One and two are for doing two things at the same time. And the third is because gathering while exercising is the least boring way to cultivate. You’ll see. Much better than just sitting around doing nothing.”
“Maybe so.” Sam held up a finger to cut her off. “But you’re trying to convince me to the great utility of exercise will have to work until after such time until I can actually gather.”
“But—”
“No buts! There will be no buts. I will hear no more of any topic on which I do know nothing about unless the person who brings up said topic wished to elucidate me on its contents. From now on, we will only talk about stuff that we both know or stuff that only I know.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
“It might appear that way at first glance. But the difference is that, when asked, I am perfectly willing to embark upon long-winded explanations of what ever stupid reference I had just made. So unless you wish to explain to me how cultivation actually works, I advise you to pivot to a more common conversation topic.” Sarah opened her mouth as if to speak. Sam narrowed his eyes at her. After a tense moment, Sarah admitted defeat. Or so it seemed.
“If you really want,” she said, “I can try and explain gathering to you.”
Sam laughed. “Nah. That’s alright, thanks. I’ll wait until I can actually do it like the good patient little boy I am.” Sarah looked him up and down. “Alright, enough with that. You better be scrutinizing whether I am, in fact little. I will have no one doubt me being of a sound moral character—”
“You also don’t strike me as very patient.”
“True enough, but it depends. If it’s something that I don’t want to do but still want to happen, I can be as patient as a rock.”
“That’s called procrastinating.”
“No. It’s called being lazy. Now who’s a procrastinating?” Sarah’s mouth turned in the opposite direction of her raised eyebrows. “Yeah… OK. That wasn’t a very good one, I know. Look, I’ve been running around all day, and now the only thing I’m running on is fumes. Do you know how much mental energy it takes to maintain this high level of being sarcastically annoying?”
“It’s been taking a lot out of you, I can see that. We shouldn’t expect you to be able to deliver the same comedic talents every single time.”
“I blame you, honestly. Most people would’ve reined me back by now. Or stopped hanging out with me. But you’re acting like the average millennial parent acts with their children, indulging my every whim.”
“Funnily enough, you happen to be right with that very general claim. There is only one millennial parent currently alive, and he really can’t say to no his kids. But that’s OK, they have a mother that keeps them in line.” She smiled.
“How realistically revolting.”
“Not a big fan of children, then?”
“I like them in theory, fulfilling their role as the next generation of humanity. But in practice? No way. I gotta go with my boy Plato on this one. Take all the kids, put them together in one place away from any adults that don’t have to be there. And brainwash them until they stop being kids and turn into respectable citizens. Then, and only then, can they reintegrate into society.”
“No younger siblings as well, I take it?”
“No. And before you ask, I also don’t have any younger cousins or god forbid nieces and nephews.”
“Figures. I was the oldest of a very big extended family and I love kids. It’s different when it’s your own kids or the ones of those you care about, you’ll see.”
“That sounds like a threat. I’ll have you know, right here and now, that I refuse in advance any and all requests for babysitting that you may make of me in the future. And not only for selfish reasons, but also for the good of the child. A parent letting someone like me babysit is an egregious violation of parental responsibility and provides a solid justification for taking away their custodial rights.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said and ushered him into the gym building that had just arrived at. “The only things that should be on your mind, however, is following my routine exactly and making sure you understand how I do my sets.” Sam silently nodded, his aching muscles suddenly much more noticeable.
He followed Sarah as she led him through the different facets of her workout; how every exercise should be done and especially how it shouldn’t be done. It seemed funny to Sam that in a world with magic healing, people should still care about form. It made sense for sure, but it was still funny.
His musings were cut short, just as he was about to formulate a joke on the topic, by his phone sounding from his pocket. Third message in only the single day. Sam was inching towards heights of popularity, the likes of which he’s never seen.
“Hello, Sam. It is Maurice.” It read. “I apologize for not writing to you sooner, but I have been hard pressed to find the free time in the last two days. I would like to know how you are feeling currently, both physically and mentally, and how today has been. Thank you.”
“Hi Maurice,” he wrote back. “No need to apologize. Everything’s fine. Sarah has been monopolizing my free time anyway, so it’s not like I was starved for human connection or anything. I’m feeling alright. Body pretty sore from working out both today and yesterday, but that’s pretty much it. Today was good, learnt a lot of stuff, and even got my own bank account. Thanks for checking in!”
“So guess who just messaged me?” he asked Sarah.
“Maurice?”
“Dammit. I really need to meet some new people.”
“Yeah… Also, I figured that he hadn’t contacted you since we last saw each other, so I wrote to him a couple of hours ago to check up on you.” Their conversation was interrupted by Sam’s phone chiming in his hands, and while he was busy answering Maurice, Sarah went back to her set.
“That’s very good to hear,” wrote the doctor. “Make sure to remember that you can always contact me if you have any questions or need my help. It’s our duty as fellow Taken to help one another. On another note, I wanted to invite you to dine with me during lunch tomorrow if you are free and willing. I would like to use the opportunity in order to conduct our discussion vis-à-vis your unique return.”
“Can I go to eat lunch with your dad tomorrow so he could interrogate me on my worst personal trauma?”
“One, he’s not my dad,” Sarah said with a heavy huff. “And two, you don’t need to ask for my permission. That being said, I’m also coming, so of course you can.”
“C U There,” Sam first wrote out in an attempt to combat Maurice’s stiff texting but changed his mind before hitting send and wrote it out normal. “We on with your dad tomorrow at twelve,” he said.
“Do take note that I am holding a very large weight and that your body is oh very frail.” Sam held up his hands in surrender. The rest of the evening passed even faster than before, and Sam returned to his musical project while between bouts of conversation with Sarah.
“Oh, I also wanted to ask you if it’s OK that we’ll meet up with two of my friends tomorrow morning and we’ll work out together?” Sarah asked him once they were making their way back to their dorms. She tried to make it sound nonchalant, but Sam was getting pretty good at reading her. Enough to be able to function as a normal human being at least, which is all that you had to be in order to hear the obvious nervousness in her voice and the anxiety in her eyes.
“Saraaaaah…I didn’t know you had any friends besides me. Look who’s a grown girl, nay a woman, all of a sudden.” He got a pinpoint accuracy sweaty towel hit in his face in response. Sam coughed. “That counts as use of chemical weaponry, I’ll have you know. And while Geneva and the Hague might not be around anymore, their legacies live ever on in the norms they set in international law—”
“I’m being serious. I’d like you to meet them as well, but if you’re feeling uncomfortable, I can cancel.”
Sam laughed. “Of course it’s alright. Why? They’re not kids, are they?”
“They’re both nineteen. I just wanted to make sure. In my first days here, I was super stressed every time I had to meet someone new. Especially if they were my age. I kept worrying that they’ll act differently than me and that because of that, they won’t want to be friends with me.”
“Yeah, and that’s the difference between you and me. While you were twelve years of age, I am ten years your senior in body and seventy in spirit. And while you were afraid that people wouldn’t want to be friends with you, I am secure in being certain that they won’t.”
“Good. So meet me downstairs at seven sharp tomorrow morning and we’ll go meet up with them.”
“My dear lady,” Sam adopted his British gentleman persona: Mr. Millsbutnotracist. “I don’t wake up before eight o’clock unless it’s the weekend. In which case, I wake up at nine-thirty.” This time Sarah took mercy on him and he managed to block the towel before it met with his face. Laughing, he bid Sarah goodnight and, with the absence of any non leisurely way to spend the rest of the night, opted for an early bedtime.