Sam stilled his triumphant mind and racing heart, both rushing ahead of himself and on the cusp of giving him some unjust due. Instead, he turned to Maurice and asked, “And how does thirteen percent match with your observations of other Taken?”

Maurice raised an eyebrow and gave Sam a thin smile. “I must wonder why it is that you’re asking me such a question; to what purpose? Are you seeking to assure yourself of the magnitude of your own achievements by finding out whether, or how much, you were better than those that came before you? Or is it the opposite? Are you hoping to downplay your rate of progress by finding people who fared just as good, if not better, than you? Whatever the reason, I can find you Taken to fit either category. But we both are well aware how incorrect it would be to use any other Taken as a basis of comparison with you. After all, we had just spent most of lunch talking about what a unique unit you are.”

“Nevertheless, Maurice.”

“Very well, if you must have me spell it out for you. From my data on other post-integration Taken, yours would have to be the greatest increase in core capacity in the period of five weeks. Even the fact that most of these Taken don’t have their progress to level 1 calculated as close to their return are yours doesn’t raise any problems, as we have plenty of data that points to many of them being behind you even after a longer period. Of course, that much is a given, seeing as you are more than six years older than even the oldest post-integration Taken on record.”

“Not to mention all the personal attention I’m getting.”

“Mhm… that is perhaps not as great a difference between you and some Taken as you think it is. Of course, there are also Taken who have progressed much faster than you. Seeing as they were level 1 by the time a month of the return has passed. How is that possible, I wonder?”

“They killed Harots...”

“Exactly. So what we’re really looking for is an adult Taken who didn’t have access to Harots after his return. Any other Taken does not provide us a similar enough basis for comparing between you and them. Care to guess how many Taken we have on record as fitting that requirement?”

“No.” Sam sighed. “I can take the hint. No comparing myself and other Taken. But what about the ningani, then? And their… very young adults or gifted children or whatever they’re called?”

“They are not called,” Dan said. “It is considered taboo in ningani society to speak of the process of mental development. The most you would hear being said of a ningani like that is that they were ‘early to the page.’ And none of those early to the page ningani provides us a good basis to compare with you. While there might be ningani who were as mentally developed as you are when they had their Awakening. They would have had much more knowledge than you. Which, to our discussion today, means that they would’ve been able to dedicate a greater amount of time to cultivating than you were.”

Sam raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, I get it, no comparing. So what conclusion can we draw from my thirteen percent? If any? After all, if we can’t compare me to anyone else, then all the information we’ve gained from observing everyone else can’t be used when it comes to me.”

Maurice chuckled. “We can’t draw up a scientific theory, no. Nor can we make any certain judgment about where the future will lead you. For my part, I’d say that we can’t analyze any single individual like that. But I digress. We can still make the safe conclusion that your rate of improvement has been good. Good enough to, as Dan said, meet your overarching goal.”

Dan nodded. “Besides, I only said that you shouldn’t compare yourself to those few unique ningani. We can still compare your rate of advancement with that of people who are… closer to you in knowledge and draw a conclusion from that. Say that it takes the average Terran—twelve or thirteen years-old, but still—half a year to reach where you are now. And then two more years after that to reach level 1. If the ratio between those two periods remains the same, then we can assume that you’ll manage to reach level 1 before the year’s end.”

“And do you?” Sam asked.

“Oh certainly. I was never much worried about your ability to cultivate and how fast your core progresses. Even before I was made aware of your… talents, forgive me the word, in that department. Like I said, I raised seven percent as the minimum for you to achieve because it seemed good enough; a showcase of your general ability to juggle between all the different obligations required of you in your studies here. But it was, and is, your actual studies that I am most concerned about. Levels can be made up in time, but if you start next year without possessing all the prerequisite knowledge to make the most of it, then you’ll probably be set back by that forever.

“Still, your thirteen percent is great news. Your progress makes it all but certain that if you keep going as you are today, that you’ll reach level 1 before the gap in the knowledge and skills requiring level 1 to obtain and practice become too wide for you to be able to bridge in just two years. Not to mention that we need to take into account the burden of your training as a Thread-Weaver. And that’s just keeping as you are. It also means that you could, if you find the need to, take some of the time you’ve been spending cultivating and dedicating it for your studies—”

“Yes or use it to relax instead,” Maurice said.

Sam stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Has Sarah been talking to you?”

“Among other people.”

“Figures.” He grumbled before turning back to Dan. “So any other verdict we should draw for this test result or should we move on?”

“None for now, in my opinion, Maurice?”

“I should think not. Nothing more to say other than that it’s a very good ‘result.’ You should be proud of yourself. A clear sign that some of your self-insecurity is misplaced.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Sam said. “Wait for the next time you join us for one of these tests before making any call to action.”

“We’ll see. I think I’ll be satisfied with just having the results forwarded to me next time.”

“What happened to preferring to make the observation yourself if possible?”

Maurice shrugged and stood up. “It was a good excuse that ran its course. And like all good excuses, it was completely true under the specific circumstances and only falls short when examined in general.” A short exchange of farewells later, and Sam and Dan were left alone as the good doctor closed the door behind him.

“Shall we move on, then?” Dan asked.

Sam nodded, but immediately stopped mid-motion. “Wait, I just remembered. I wanted to try resisting the pull from the artifact. Just to see what it felt like. If that’s alright, I mean. There isn’t a chance to damage it or anything, right?”

“No. Just to screw up its result. Here, feel free to see how it feels for yourself.” Dan handed Sam back the artifact, already powered on as before.

This time, Sam made that slight effort of will that he felt compelled to do before. For a lack of a better term, he simply closed his core. The ethereal connection between his pathways and that one spot in his right heel, where his core still resided for now, was blocked for all traffic. All traffic? Sam wondered but kept silent for now as he opened back his core and focused on fighting against the attempts of the artifact to direct the magic being drawn in the pathways of Sam’s hand to trace into his physical hand. This venture was less successful, as some of Sam’s magic made it through, and Sam was tempted to ask what his score read out now.

Reminded of the importance of prudent use of time, he shook his head in annoyance and just asked the pertinent question, “So I closed my core, right? Is that’s what it’s called?”

“Pretty much. That or blocking your core are the most common terms for it.”

“So if I did that while having any sustained patterns active, that weren’t self-gathering like the translator, would they have stopped working as well?”

“Yes. Completely blocking the core would cause all patterns to stop working once they ran out of magic. Of course, eventually, not soon, but soon enough, you’ll be able to control your body’s unconscious drawing at will. So there will be no reason for you to close your core at all. Not that there is much reason now, mind you. It’s not like the artifact would’ve damaged you in any shape or form. Blocking your core is pretty much only used as a time saver. Instead of stopping all your sustained patterns one by one, you stop supplying magic to them until they all turn off.”

Sam nodded and handed the artifact back to Dan before straightening in his sit, acquiesced. “Alright. That’s all I wanted to ask. Back to calculating magical energy dissipation, then?” The answer was, of course, positive, and the subject of dissipation lasted them all the way through the lesson time of magical theory, even pushing into patterns a bit (not necessarily an indicator of Sam’s difficulty with the technical aspects of the subject but simply due to the time spent on testing his progress out of level zero). And despite saying that they would get to numeric patterns in only a couple of weeks, Dan gave him a little taste of that in the last five minutes of their time together—after they had finished their planned material on patterns on time—by roughly translating for him the pattern that showcased his results. Sam had a newfound appreciation for the people who had to teach children the meaning of digits.

“Don’t you guys think it’s bullshit?” he asked his friends after he joined them for dinner and explained his conundrum. “Why does the translator work for other numerical systems? Like that god awful deshar one. Or even for binary code, somehow. But it doesn’t work on ‘the language of patterns?’ Something just doesn’t make sense.”

“I’ll tell you what doesn’t make sense,” Felix said. “Trying to make sense of the universal translator. That thing’s pretty much just your classical trope of ancient esoteric magic combined with the trope of futuristic unexplainable technology. Stop trying to figure out how stuff that no one knows how they work, work.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“And what doesn’t make any sense to me…” Sarah glared at Sam. “Is how the first thing out of your mouth wasn’t how close you are to level 1?”

“Really?” Sam asked. “Makes total sense to me.”

“Try again.”

“Alright, alright. I’m thirteen percent on the way there. Are you happy now?”

“Thirteen percent?” Felix clapped him on the back. “That’s pretty fucking great, mate. Good job.”

“Congratulation.” Yvessa nodded.

Sarah stared at Sam, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “I am happy, yes. That’s amazing progress. Are you happy?” She let the question hang.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me. The only reasons I could think of are dumb. Like you hoping to be a fifth of the way there because that’s two times greater than where your mentor predicated you’d be. Or, more probable, if somehow even more dumb, maybe you’re grumbling, saying ‘that if I made it all the way to thirteen than I could’ve worked harder to make it all the way to sixteen. That’s only three more to reach my favorite number.’”

“Hey, I don’t sound like that! I’m way whinier.”

“You’re really thinking that?” Felix asked.

“Of course not! Well, depending on what you mean by thinking. That thought has floated up into my consciousness, yes, but I hadn’t given it any serious consideration. And it’s one of the first things they try to teach you in both meditation and CBT: just because a thought is there, it doesn’t mean anything. So I’d really appreciate it if we all could stop trying to draw conclusions based on my errant thoughts.”

“You’re sounding really defensive, mate.”

“I have a persecution complex. Sue me.”

“So you are satisfied, then?” Sarah asked him.

“I am, yes. Very much so. You’re right, of course, we can always aspire to greater heights and reach disappointment and dissatisfaction thus. But right now I’m very much satisfied with the heights I’ve reached and the efforts I’ve put in to reach them. You’re also right that I would’ve way more happy with being sixteen percent of the way there—When did I tell you sixteen was my favorite number?”

“A couple of times already.”

“And you remembered? How? I definitely don’t remember telling you the story of how it came to be my favorite number.”

She shrugged. “Please don’t ask him for the story,” Felix said.

“Don’t worry grouchy,” Sam reassured him. “I wasn’t going to tell the story anyway. I don’t like it very much. It’s not very good.”

“As opposed to all your other stories?”

“Uh uh. And that should tell you something. But let’s leave my theory of numerology for another time, shall we? That’s good conversation material and I’m saving it for a special occasion. Also, for after I’ve read a bit about numerology so that I can better make fun of it.”

“I just want your assurance that you’re not going to go to sleep tonight, dissatisfied with the progress you’ve made,” Sarah said. “Because there’s self-criticism and health perfectionism, and there’s that.”

“Then I promise you. I’m perfectly happy with the progress I’ve made, even if the number signifying it could’ve been prettier. Not that I dislike thirteen all that much. Besides, it’s not like if I’d have gotten seventeen or nineteen I would’ve been mad about those, right? Oh, me and Dan ate lunch with Maurice again today. He even joined us for the test. Your idea?”

“Nope. First I’m hearing of it. I’m happy to hear that, though. Maybe he’s finally going to stop taking every meal in his office alone.”

“No way. Even breakfast and dinner?”

“Most days he’s working, yes.”

“We have to do something! What do you guys say? Dinner with Maurice every Thursday? The hospital is close to our training field, after all.”

“Yeah…” Felix said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He gestured towards Yvessa.

She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of eating dinner with him. That one time was just that, a onetime occurrence. Besides, who says that he’ll be happy to join us for dinner once a week?”

“That’s fair,” Sam said. “You three are practically still teenagers.”

“We’re back to age jokes, are we?” Felix asked. “And this time you’ve included Sarah in the young department.”

“You’re right, that was my bad. You two.”

Sarah chuckled. “If you guys don’t have a problem with eating with him. I’m sure I could force him to eat with us at least once every two weeks. Sam was right though, it’ll pretty much have to be at the hospital, otherwise he would never agree to a non-event meal. You’re sure that you won’t have a problem with that, though, Yv?”

Yvessa shrugged, feigning indifference. “If it’s fine by him, then it’s fine by me.”

“That’s great! I’ll make plans for next week, then.”

“Good job, Sam,” Sam said and lowered his head to present his back for a table-wide clapping. “That’s a great showing you’ve just had today.”

“Good job, Sam.” Sarah laughed and reached forward to clap his shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself. Diligent and ethical. Your role model would be proud.”

Sam made himself tear and choke up. “You think he would?”

Felix blinked in confusion. “Who are we talking about now?”

“Who do you think?” Yvessa rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s not Farris, right?”

“What?!” Sam was indignant. “Of course not. I don’t know anything about Farris’ moral qualities and ethical paradigms as of yet.”

Felix groaned. “Why do you have to bring up Kant all the time?”

“What?! I wasn’t the one that brought him up. And until you’ve specifically mentioned him by name, it could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been a Baruch. It could’ve been any of the three Johns. It could’ve even been any number of Pratchett characters—I was thinking Granny, to balance some of the male gaze. You’re the one that collapsed the quantum whatever and made sure that my role model for the joke would be Kant.”

“Come off it. It was always going to be Kant. Sarah, who were you thinking of?”

“Hawkeye Pierce.” She smiled innocently.

“Nice!” Sam gave her a thumbs up. Her education was coming up nicely (surely any day now she would actually watch the show). “Very well done.” Turning back to Felix with a pitying look, he said, “Honestly, buddy, I could sit here all day and present you with individuals who are fit enough for me to recognize as role models, as per Sarah’s statement. It didn’t have to be Kant. I admit, it could’ve been Kant if I were forced to name a person out loud. But I wasn’t. Therefore, all the blame for bringing him up lies with you. Just face it with your reason, like a good little Kantian.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Felix lied. “I do know what numeric patterns mean, though. Can we talk about that instead?”

“In a couple of weeks, sure.”

“Wow. Only a couple of weeks? Really? That’s actually incredible.”

“Indeed,” Yvessa said, “very impressive.”

“Wait…” Sam squinted at the two in confusion. “Are you guys being serious?”

“Of course. It took me a about a year to start learning numeric patterns after I started my general studies of patterns.”

“The difference of seven years coming into play, I suppose,” Felix said.

“It was eight for me.”

“Well, look who’s a bright young jewel. Remind us again when did your core reach fragmented?”

“Before yours did, no?”

“Tsk.”

“You’re really not performing up to specs today, are you Felix?” Sam laughed.

“It’s your fault. You brought me out of it. I can’t compete with so many people at once. I forget what metrics I need to use in order to come up the clear winner against each one of you.”

“I’ve got an easy solution for you, then. Simply don’t compete against me. Just admit that I’m better than you and let it go. Focus on other, more attainable, rivals.”

“You realize what a crushing morale blow that would be to me if I admit defeat to you with how many self-deprecating comments you make in a single day?”

“Hey…” Sam shrugged. “Maybe you need some of that low morale in your life. It would help you see what it feels like to be me, and maybe through that you’ll be able to perform as well as I am.”

“Are you seriously advocating for that tortured artist cliche?”

“Oh God, you’re right. That does sound analogous. Never mind, I take back what I just said until I’ve had time to rebuild the argument fully and examine it thoroughly. I’m not retracting the claim of being better than you, though.”

“What about when a joke requires you do to so?”

“Still. We’ve already covered how I’m not above sliding down to hypocrisy. Oh, speaking of hypocrisy, Sarah.” He turned to face her.

“What?” She started back at him.

“Care to guess who the latest person to advise me to take it easy is? I’ll give you a hint: the entire conversation up to now.”

“Look, just because Maurice told you something, it doesn’t mean I told him to say it. He’s not my mouthpiece. If he’s thinking that you’re working too hard and can afford to ease off a little bit, then that’s his opinion. The only role I played in him formulating it is supplying him with the objective facts.”

“So what does Maurice say about you and your use of time?”

“Nothing, as there is nothing to say.”

“That doesn’t compute, I should think.”

“No? I think it makes perfect sense. Haven’t we already covered how your schedule is stricter than mine?”

“Hmmm,” Sam grumbled. “I’m not buying it. But I’ll let it slide for now.”

“So are we to understand that your exceeding of expectations won’t result in you changing your daily schedule?” Yvessa asked.

“Nope. Which means we are still on for lunch tomorrow.”

“You’re still doing those study sessions together?” Felix asked.

“Just tomorrow’s planned, for now. As I’m going to have reached halfway through the second textbook by then.”

“And what do you get out of that?” Felix asked Yvessa.

She shrugged. “A sense of fulfilling one’s duty?”

“I agreed to be the one to bring food tomorrow,” Sam added. “Not to all the way to her room, of course. We’ll be eating outside, unfortunately. So please pray for a sunny day if you’d be so kind.”

Yvessa crossed her hands. “There’s no way that I’m going to eat where I sleep… as long as I don’t have to.”

“Can’t say I agree, but I’m certainly not judging.”

“You most certainly were.”

“Sure. But I’m not now.”

“May I remind you who’s helping whom tomorrow?”

“Does my bringing you lunch doesn’t count?”

“No. I’m not as obsessed with time usage as you.”

“Nope.” Felix chuckled. “You’re obsessed with your bedroom’s cleanliness instead.”

“You’re the last person who should comment about other people’s attitude towards the room they sleep in.”

Felix nodded sheepishly with a shrug before suddenly jerking his head and turning to Sam. “Wait, doesn’t that mean that you’re about to pass me in the material about elven history?”

“I guess? If the frontal classes don’t cover anything that the textbook doesn’t. Are you not reading ahead?”

“Absolutely not! On both counts. This is complete bullshit, you know that, right? It’s making a mockery of the entire educational system of this fine academy of ours. What does that mean that someone is able to finish going over two courses in so little time?”

“That there’s not a lot of material compared to most other courses and that the relatively short frontal classes are just for the people who don’t want to read the textbooks?”

“Also, that they spent a lot of time reading those textbooks,” Sarah said.

“Yeah… it’s my most studied subject after magical theory, I suppose. I’m way ahead of the schedule with it. I just wanted to start getting some courses out of the way, and this one seemed easiest.”

“I still call bullshit.” Felix was indignant. “I’ve made up my mind. From now on I’m not going to the classes as well. I’m already reading the textbooks, so I’m going to use that time for other ventures!”

Yvessa laughed. “Won’t you be sorely missed in class? What will happen if you run into the teacher and she comments on the fact that the most outspoken and knowledgeable student of hers is no longer present in class?”

“She’ll survive. And hopefully understand. The class will go on without me. Others will rise to the challenge, surely.”

“Wait.” Sam snorted. “You were being serious? You really are the golden boy of elven history class?”

“In a way.”

“Did you describe yourself to Yvessa that way?”

“I was just presenting the objective facts of my time spent in class.”

“Look, one more person throws the word ‘objective’ out today and we’re all going down the Frege rabbit hole. And I assure you, that is one German philosopher who writes philosophy like how people stereotypically think Germans think.”

“I think you’re the only one who still has any stereotypes about nationalities. You’re like the last bigot on earth in that way. The last bigot from Earth, rather.”

“Oh ho.” Sam chuckled evilly. “Just you wait. With every passing day, I learn more information about the different people living today. And the different group categorization each person can be slotted into. Soon, I’ll have gathered enough knowledge to return to my full power as a bigot. And then I’ll have a stereotype ready made for every person I meet in my travels.”