598 needles this time.

If Mitch kept this up his fear would be wholly ameliorated merely through exposure.

"How am I doing?" He asks the weird old man. "Still chaotic?"

The old man doesn't say anything for a while, and Mitch starts to think he's not going to respond at all.

"Much better. Your energy has settled much. But still not smooth like it should be."

"Can you tell me a little about what you're doing?"

The acupuncturist makes a noncommittal sound and then stops speaking again.

Finally, "The word in Putonghua for energy of life is chi. You have heard this before, yes?" Mitch nods silently. "There are four elements and six aspects of chi. Earth, Air, Fire, Water are the elements. Lightning, Mist, Wood, Metal, Change, and Destruction are the aspects. Earth and Air make Lightning. Fire and Air make Wood. Fire and Earth make Metal. Air and Water make mist. Fire and Water make Change. Water and Earth make Destruction. When understand the elements, chi, life force, can be made."

"Why do Air and Fire make Wood? That makes no sense."

The acupuncturist sighs discontentedly at the interruption. "Do you know how it is that tree grows?"

"It takes dirt and uses sunlight to turn that into the things it needs or something."

"Wrong. What is the sun?"

"A star?"

"Yes. What is star?"

"Uhhh... nuclear fusion?" Mitch says uncertainly.

The acupuncturist snorts. "Stop thinking with science. The rules are changing. A star is a ball of fire in the sky."

"Ah, ok that explains fire. Is the other air just because the Sun is in the sky?"

"Stupid. How can trees grow so big? If they take everything from the Earth, why is there no hole under every tree?" Mitch doesn't know the answer and says so. "Trees breathe. They take in the air and make that their mass."

"But air is just a gas, are you saying trees are made of gas?"

"Fool. Trees breathe carbon dioxide, yes? And they exhale oxygen. They keep the carbon to make wood." A lightbulb goes off in Mitch's brain.

"You see it now." Mitch nods.

They are silent for a long time as the acupuncturist continues his work. Mitch keeps thinking about their conversation. One thought sticks in his mind. Science isn't dying; it is just changing. New factors have been added, so the interpretation must change.

"Is chi the same as dark energy?" he asks. The acupuncturist freezes. After a long moment, he says, " I do not know."

Finally, the needles start coming out, and Mitch puts his shirt back on and leaves with his mind churning rapidly.

If mankind could use the basis of knowledge they had gleaned in the past five hundred years or so as a framework for understanding all of this new shit, then a vast number of possibilities had opened. What could he accomplish if he compared science with the ancient magics and drew lines between them? He knows western ritual formations are effective, and from what the old man said the eastern chi based philosophies were also relevant. What about the chakras of India? Amulets, bindings and all of the other things he had read about in the books he had bought.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

All of that had to wait, however. First, the next Tolling needed to be survived.

***

That boy was remarkable. His meridians had expanded by a full couple of percentage points.

That doesn't seem like a lot, but within a week it was nothing short of astounding. If that pace was maintained... there was no telling how far this boy could progress. Even if it slowed considerably, there was still massive potential there. He really needed to keep his eye on this kid. There was now a legitimate chance that he would survive the next level of reintegration.

After the first couple hundred of years of his time here, suppressing knowledge of the energies had become almost irrelevant. He had never really paid much attention to the sciences these mortals had managed to devise in the centuries which followed, only grabbing those 'factoids' he found innately interesting while eliminating any knowledge he saw that was even reasonably close to the truth.

Here in the mortal plane, he would be practically indistinguishable from a deity. However, in the immortal plane, where he had been born, he would barely be considered of middling power.

Talking to the boy had been the first time he had tried to explain the inspirations he had received over the past several thousand years through the lens of a "modern" human. He had realized a few things during that exchange that may help him very much. If he managed to have a breakthrough before he returned, he might be able to step up beyond the masses and actually be considered for tasks beyond merely guarding a world cut off from anything that may have ever made them a threat to him.

After postulating for a few moments longer, he settled down to meditate on the revelations he had received as he tried to make the boy understand.

Teachers really do learn more than the student.

***

Bombs just kept going off in Mitch's mind as he walked back to his apartment. He had drawn many conclusions from his interactions with the acupuncturist. He really should ask the man's name next time as he had a distinct feeling that he would be going back again later. The man hadn't demanded a third session this time, but that may have been due to the unspoken vibe that he would be returning anyway.

It seemed there was potential for the formations he had been studying beyond just what he had been working on with concentrating energies. Or chi. Or dark energy, or whatever all of this was.

He needed to do a lot more research.

Suddenly his forward momentum was sharply arrested with unfavorable consequences to his nose. While he was still recovering, he heard a voice.

"You!"

He looked up, his eyes watering. Immediately before him was Boulder Man. That asshole level four who had given him shit a few days before. He glanced around hoping to see Not Sorry, the girl who had intervened the last time, with no luck.

"She's not here to save you this time bitch!" says the Living Rock-Man.3

"Brad, hey, listen, man..." he begins to say before he is interrupted by a wild right haymaker.

Somehow he manages to dodge the first blow; and the second. And then the third passes him by, the only thing that hits him is the breeze from Brad's passing ham-hock.

He is not sure what is happening but time seems to have slowed. He doesn't think he is any faster, but his perceptions are lightning quick, and he has time to evaluate the speed and trajectory of each punch in time to evade it.

To the outside observer, it looks like Mitch is dancing and twisting around the punches in like a dancer performing a choreographed set. There is no discernible hesitation from one movement to the next.

There are none of the fast-forward effects Mitch noticed on Mutter Master when Mutter was fighting his own level-four miscreant; merely a smooth transition between movements and near-instantaneous reaction times.

As much as Mitch dodges, Brad keeping swinging with undiminished fervor.

Nearby shoppers take notice and begin watching, a few laughing and making bets on the outcome. Callous butt-munchers.

Mitch gets tired of dodging constantly and decides to take the offensive. He finds himself in a nearly ideal position and launches his best punch at Brad's solar plexus. It connects solidly. It has no effect on Brad whatsoever.

They both stand dumbfounded for a moment. Brad because this worm actually dared to strike him, and Mitch because all the force he could muster had no impact on Brad at all.

After a moment Brad began to chuckle, and then outright laugh.

"That's it? I could hit harder than that before the Tolling even started." Brad crows.

"Is that so?" Mitch says casually, maintaining a facade of calm. "It's too bad; all that brute strength and you haven't hit me even once."

"Maybe, but all I'll need is one. What's your code? I'm guessing no better than a three."

"X0-4," Mitch thought about stepping back, but suddenly he had an image in his mind of Mutter Master's head exploding. He should be cautious here; blindly trying to escape might get him killed.

Without taking his eyes off of Brad, he searches his peripheral vision for an escape, a weapon; anything that could change the status quo. It's a busy time, and the road is full of cars roaring by: they are in front of a building, but no doors are nearby and the sidewalk is pretty narrow. By now, enough people are observing that just running off would be difficult unless they cleared the way; which he couldn't count on. Most people would probably move to avoid getting involved, but some might freeze, and if one of those was in his way it could be disastrous.

"What the fuck kind of code is that? X isn't one of the types... 0-4 is clear enough though. That means I win." Brad starts swinging again. This time he is actually putting some thought into it; keeping himself tight and not wasting so much motion. Mitch is still able to stay ahead of him though. He tries throwing some more punches, a couple to the ribs, one to the jaw: none of them seem to faze Brad much, although he kept his guard up after the face shot.

Mitch can feel himself starting to tire while Brad is just as full of spit and vinegar (and shit) as when they start. This is untenable. His only option is to try to bust out through the looky-loos.

He shot one more punch at Brad's face, but it was a feint, and as soon as he saw Brad start to flinch back he spun on the toe of his back foot and immediately started running in the opposite direction. And, wouldn't you know it, there's a freezer in front of him. At this point, Mitch doesn't dare to stop and, acting on instinct, he plants his foot and whips himself around the man in a move that almost looks like a pirouette and finds himself behind the man with empty 'walks ahead of him. So, he hauls ass. Booking like a librarian Mitch heads off in a direction entirely opposite the way his apartment. He will circle back.

Luckily after a little while, it doesn't seem that Brad has decided to pursue him.

He eventually makes it back to his apartment where he falls back into the middle seat of his couch.

"Whew." He sits for a moment regaining his calm. "I need to learn to fight."