Expectations are bound for the disappointed when it comes to envisioning how it must transpire. The first week of training consisted of rigorous physicality, involving weight-training, swimming, biking, calisthenics, and others. For class, one studied different practices of philosophy, mainly Stoicism and Taoism, with assigned homework and classwork activities per usual.

Sore throughout, Marcus found a spot in the center of the same auditorium where the head of the department gave them the introductory address last Sunday afternoon. The same head now stood at the podium again, smiling. Evidently from the large patches of vacancies, the audience had diminished to only a fifth of its size.

“Hello, hello! I hope those of you who stayed for the first week had the most enjoyable time of learning and growing. From the resilience of Stoicism balanced with the adaptability of Taoism, you are well on your way to the next generation of explorers in Project Day. Honed physiques as well, there is no doubt you are all healthy and exceptional individuals.”

Many in the crowd smiled back, internally grateful for having made it thus far. Others looked on with a dead gaze, sleep-deprived or afflicted by some other ailment of mismanagement.

“Alright. Welcome to Phanerology. Today’s two-hour session is straightforward. First, I want you all to group up in pairs. Preferably, grouping up with someone you don’t know, someone you’re scared to approach, someone who you naturally feel repelled from, the better. Got that? I’ll give you two minutes. Or else…” She chuckled while swinging her arms, encouraging the students to find their partners, perhaps their fated ones.

Marcus burped. He turned around to see two blue eyes stare back at him.

“Sure,” Marcus answered.

Two minutes elapsed, marked by the hurried beeping of a phone timer in the lecturer’s right hand. “Anyone without a partner?”

A few hands were raised.

“Okay. I would like you all to please exit the auditorium.”

One of them asked, “Where to?”

“Home. It was a pleasure.”

A couple of hesitant looks from those called out, the lecturer added, “Let’s end on a good note. I wouldn’t want to call security to forcefully escort you out.”

Ashamed or happy that the end for them came, the undignified stragglers got up and hustled down the flight of steps to the door. Marcus looked on in curiosity.

“It seems we have a lot of you left. Today’s activity will be a difficult but interesting one. I would like to think of it as a trust fall for the soul. Now then, Richard!”

From the side of the stage, a man in a baseball cap emerged with a cart of tiny lamps. At least that’s what they looked like.

“Thank you, Richard. Yes, I’ll be there for dinner. Everyone! What we have here are calculated portions of Traces of Light.” Oblique glass capsules entrapping what appeared to be lax fireflies, those who beheld the incandescent shine couldn’t help but inch closer.

“Before I distribute these delegated portions, here are the specifics. After you retrieve the Traces of Light for you and your partner to share, I want both of you to talk. It doesn’t matter who goes first, but eventually both must confide in each other about their deepest… things. Your vulnerabilities, meaning your insecurities, your fears, your regrets, your true happiness, to name a few, I hope can be fully transparent between you and your partner today. Again, the more the better. Those in the first three rows can come down now. We’ll go up the seats.”

Marcus snatched a portion for the both of them. Placing it to the side, he directly peered into those two blue eyes of his partner, abruptly recollecting, “In elementary school, I remember telling this friend of mine that the reason why no one liked them was because they were too clingy. I didn’t do it out of hate. I thought I was helping.”

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Marcus grinned like a sly fox, probing his listener, watching every little twitch, contraction and dilation of pupils, the small rapid movement of their eyes darting back and forth, observing. He continued, “The problem was that I’m terribly stupid. Having said those words, I didn’t understand at the time why they stopped talking to me as the two of us grew more and more distant. Strangers, two kids who didn’t know of each other’s existence across the schoolyard, it became like this with whoever I met. I learned since then that most people hate honesty.”

His listener asked, “Does it still bother you?”

“No. Because it makes sense.”

“It must have been lonely.” The two blue eyes looked into the Trace of Light resting beside them. Feeling themselves loosen, they let out a sigh. “Whenever I’m by myself, I feel like crying sometimes. I’m just staring at the tree branches outside my window waving from the wind and I… I think, where am I going? Where will I end up?”

“Well, you’re here.”

“I am.” Her two blue eyes twinkled before she asked, “Does anything scare you?”

Marcus laughed. “Oh, I’m a big scaredy cat. I tend to always think of the worst possible scenario. It’s probably a genetic defect. Only reason is at my side in those moments.”

“But wouldn’t that make it worse since you overthink?”

“You see, that’s what it seems to be but the worst possible cases can always be logically reconsidered. It’s only when emotions get in the way of reasoning that it becomes a problem, that it becomes overthinking. You get fearful and lead yourself down a dark, winding path where beasts run amok, lurking, waiting to devour you. Everything goes to crap.

Also, I realized it’s only considered overthinking when you act upon it and it’s the wrong conclusion. In other words, if you do the right thing from overthinking, people won’t call you out on it. They probably would be happy for having someone so considerate.”

The girl nodded.

Marcus’ lower legs kicked up and down. “In summary, fear is your own worst enemy. What things scare you?”

The girl snickered at herself. “Even though I’m already twenty-three, I’m still scared of adults.”

“Adults? Including yourself?”

“Not me! I hope not. But in general.”

Marcus quietly listened. The girl neither looked at the Trace of Light nor up. Marcus waited.

She stated, “Adults can be so mean and unfair.”

“Deceptive? Experienced? Filled with hidden intentions?”

“Yeah. They aren’t good anymore.”

“You know what you can do?”

“Hmm?”

Marcus devilishly grinned. “Give them a piece of your mind. Tell them exactly what you’re thinking when they’re being unreasonable. If you can do that, they won’t scare you anymore.”

“Really?”

Marcus addressed the glimmer of hope in her blue eyes. “One time this woman kept telling me that I should take it easy, you know. Relax. Lower your expectations. I told that woman, ‘Just because you feel like you’ve given up on yourself doesn’t mean you should make others do the same just to make yourself feel better.’ She bitch-slapped me real hard.”

Seeing her wide-eyed expression, Marcus gleefully added, “That was my mom.”

The girl clasped her hands over her mouth.

“Yep. I love her though.”

Before the girl could find the words to articulate, as if trying to pick up scattered letters of the alphabet off the floor, the lecturer called, “Can I have everyone’s attention? Over here we have a great question asked by a pair. In my fingers, notice that their capsule is now empty. No more Traces of Light. What to do?

Well, it’s a good time to let you all know, the more you look at it, the more it dwindles until it vanishes.”

Some pairs had grim expressions, one of which glanced at theirs but rapidly looked away, remembering the words just spoken.

“If Traces of Light were permanent, we would not have an issue and Project Day would have already been a success. The problem is Traces of Light are like any other non-renewable resource on Earth. Harvested by brave and learned explorers who risk their lives, the supply is extremely limited. So if you run out, best of luck to you and your partner.” Making a final jab at those who seemed conflicted by this irresolvable predicament, the lecturer rolled her eyes, disclosing, “Oh, it’s not like it’s impossible to completely open up to a stranger and tell them what’s going on in your life. The web is excellent for anonymity, but it’s genuinely insincere and downright cheating. Faces, voices, identities transparent before you, I’d expect the remaining ninety minutes to be fruitful. Or else…”

Marcus laughed a bit too loud.