February 9th

“No, seriously Dad, I’m fine.” I’d propped the tablet up on a shelf, so Dad’s projected head was at least level with me. The tablet’s projectors could only move an image so far, and I’d never gotten used to looking down at a talking head on a table. “I took a spill yesterday. I got checked over. No broken bones, bruising, concussions, or anything.”

Pausing, I took a step back. “Swap over to flat, see for yourself.” Like he hadn’t already swapped it over so his connection would show video instead of a projection. But my step back gave him a better view, and I turned a circle and then easily stretched a leg out behind me. “See, no injuries.”

“You said yourself. You tumbled after a thirty foot throw from the bars. It’s not possible to be completely unharmed from something like that.” His voice was full of skepticism, not believing his eyes.

On the fly video editing could do a lot, but I didn’t have anything like that running. The tablet was still on Dad’s account too, so not like he didn’t know everything I had loaded on the thing.

“Well” I started, smiling for the camera, “you know how if you ask about the world soul’s strength and get told about the dantian and such?”

Dad’s face immediately dropped. “Mystic bullshit.”

“Is it really if I actually used it?” I asked. I could still feel that pool inside me, a slow current spinning a circle in it.

“It’s not measurable, repeatable, or trainable. So it’s not safe or reliable. So yes, it’s mystic bullshit.” His voice was calm, but undeterred. “Three weeks ago, we had one of the guys in the shop playing around with it and decided he could move one of the big lathes without getting an exo on or grabbing a forklift. That bullshit gave out on him halfway through moving it and he crushed his arm, nearly lost his arm and life.”

A hand appeared in his image, rubbing his forehead and temple. “I’m happy it kept you from harm, really honey. But don’t rely on it happening. It’d be a nearly two day drive to get to you.”

Measurable, repeatable, trainable. That was the engineer in him. “Got it, no mystic bullshit unless it passes engineering.” I replied, my eyes catching the blinking time on the screen behind him. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I head out for my next class, say hi to Mom for me?”

Dad chuckled. “Will do. She’s going to be mad she missed your call, but at least I can start with you’re ok before telling her about your spill. Go stick your head in the clouds.”

“Meteorology is more than just clouds Dad.” I whined back at him, the running joke for years on my interest and now college major.

He smiled, then vanished as the call ended.

“How do you measure something intangible?” I asked myself. The currently slowly turned in that internal pool, feeling like it slightly overflowed whatever it was. My dantian, I guess. I could actually feel the overflow buzz in me slightly, like I’d had just a little too much caffeine. Trying to mess with that overflow was like trying to purposely force my face red. A whole lot of pressure, a little bit of response, and a feeling of lightheadedness afterwards.

So yeah, not safe or reliable. Repeatable though, if this morning was any example. Too bad it wasn’t like the threads had been earlier, wanting to interact with whatever activity I was doing. “What is the strength of the world’s soul?”

Your world’s soul has not even lit its dantian. It remains as mortal as your people. Patience amusement, a slight bit of extra weight from the presence as certain words echoed against my pool, and possibly a bit of a feeling of interest. Other than not including me in being as mortal as my people, no change in his words, no additions like yesterday. No insights into what I’d done to myself.

“What’s a dantian, and what does lighting it do?” I tried to address that presence with a different question, to no answer. “Asshole.”

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I grabbed the tablet, shoving it in my bag. I hadn’t been lying that I had to get moving for class soon. Downstairs to the dorm lobby I glanced at the display next to the door out. A bright yellow seven blinked, and below it sat what looked like a mostly full jug of pump sunscreen. Huh, pretty low UV index even for Missouri winter. I could probably get away with just staying under the covered walkways without needing to slather on extra sunscreen. Perks of redheaded fair skin, yay.

Next to the door, apparently waiting on me, was Karen. She smiled as she grabbed her own bag. As we walked out the door I noticed the heavy clouds. Snow. That’d help explain the index.

“So, you ok after yesterday? I know you walked away from your crash and everything, but…”

“As I just finished telling my dad, I’m fine. Clean bill of health.”

Karen nodded, taking me at my word. “So you joining the superhero club then?”

“Wait, what?” I stopped, looking at her confused. “Superhero club?” I stepped off to the side of the walkway, still shaded but not blocking others walking by.

“Dantian Seekers, officially. Chartered academic club and everything. There’s around forty people in it with bonafide superhuman feats like your unharmed fall. And a couple dozen more of us that act as watchers or spotters for the others when they’re practicing. We’re basically trying to figure out how it all works.” She explained.

“Let me guess, Melissa is in it? How about the other guy you mentioned yesterday?”

“Melissa is, yeah. Her claim to fame is she crushed one of the uneven bars right before Christmas. Gripped hard enough to compress it like a tube of dough.” Karen answered. “Tony though? Nah, he spouted off some shit about ‘Grinding solo is faster’ like life’s a game.”

“Huh. I did just promise I wouldn’t do anything stupid with ‘mystic bullshit’ as Dad referred to it as.” I warned her.

A shrug answered me. “We don’t push you to use it. Honestly, I don’t think you actually tried to use it yesterday. But for a lot of them? It comes and goes and that’s what I watch for. Try to help catch them if something fails halfway through.” She looked out over the open quad. “Tony for example, and whatever he’s claiming as second Meridian. He was free lifting that eight hundred pounds. What would happen if it failed him at the last second, and he’d dropped it on himself? Squish. He didn’t have anyone spotting him like would be normal for any bodybuilder. Much less his barely there muscles.”

“Let me think about it.” Such a decisive answer. “We have to get to class anyways.”

~~~

English poetry was boring. Ye Olde English worse. So instead, I sat there, thinking over Karen’s offer. And my promise to Dad. And what the idiot in the box said yesterday. I drummed my fingers on the flexible glass keyboard embedded into the desk.

Forty plus people, not even counting more like Tony who weren’t pooling knowledge. If I was supposedly the forth on the ‘true path’ then it was likely they were all doing something wrong. What proof did I have, other than Lei Idiot no longer said I was as mortal as my people? Not like anyone else could hear that. And lifting near half a ton or crushing good steel bars was a lot better ignore a bad fall.

The screen shifted as the professor started on some other deep meaning. I ignored it and thought about the pool of energy. The dantian. That slowly circulating spin in it. The overflow.

“What is the strength of the world’s soul?” I whispered and received the same answer as always.

But the words seem to echo against my dantian. Push. What was the word, resonate? I whispered the question again and again. Each time, a little push. A little pull. Messing with the dantian. The fourth repeat, it seemed to hit the current just right that it spun a tiny bit faster. And the overflow got bigger for just a moment, before the current returned to its normal spin.

I mentally threw myself at that current, willing it to go faster. It was like trying to pedal a bike from a standstill when it was in thirtieth gear. But it starting spinning. The overflow grew.

A voice said something, I ignored it.

The spinning picked up, almost painful but I could let it slow down to just under that. It took effort to keep the current spinning faster than it wanted. “What is the strength of the world’s soul?” I whispered again.

Your [world’s soul] has not even lit its [dantian]. It remains as mortal as your people. The amused answer again. But words in it felt deeper, stronger. Like there was more behind it.

He was an alien. He probably didn’t speak English, or German, or Chinese, or any of the hundreds of languages the internet said he responded in. So how did we understand him?

A huge slam in front of me had me all of a sudden focusing back on the class. A huge, actual physical book had been slammed on the desk in front of me. The Olde English prop. I looked up at the teacher.

“So nice of you to rejoin us.” Professor Jones did not look amused. “You’re excused from class, and I’ll file the report for destruction of school property here shortly.” He looked down at my station.

I followed his gaze and realized two things. I’d drummed my fingers straight through the glass without even noticing. And somehow without moving, I was a sweaty sticky mess.