Fennel is a pungent spice. If you use too much of it the whole room starts to smell like fennel. If you use way too much of it, the whole house starts to smell like fennel. And if, by some miracle, or by some lesser demons meddling, you use way way way too much fennel, you receive enlightenment (the whole neighborhood starts to smell like fennel).

Today was a day with no other comparison. The backyard smelled like fennel, her bedroom smelled like fennel, two-blocks down smelled like fennel. And while most people thought their noses were deceiving as they smelled that sweet licorice, those in the know, and there were very few in the know, knew the source of this smell.

Iona read the recipe online, “Simple Fennel Soup”, it looked easy enough, and good enough. A perfectly fine recipe, the recipe said “five medium fennel bulbs”. Medium is a nebulous word and not one that has a perfect definition. If someone had never seen a medium fennel bulb, they would never know what a medium fennel bulb would look like, so when they use their moms fennel (which she bought two weeks ago), in their soup, they might not realize that their mom bought jumbo fennel from the market. This might cause there to be an imbalance in the amount of fennel within the soup. And an imbalance of fennel in the air, and definitely an imbalance of fennel in the general two mile radius of her house.

` The soup simmered and Iona stirred. She covered her nose and wrote in a notebook

“Important: Check average size of ingredients, or use an accurate measuring device, before adding spices to the dish.”

After another hour of suffering under the fennels oppression, the soup was done, plated, topped with a sprig of parsley, and in front of Iona steaming and smelling like, well, fennel.

“Do everything with devotion. Everything. To eat with devotion, you must do something different when you eat. You must not simply eat but eat with passion, joy, love, and everything” But to eat with passion, joy, love and everything, was especially difficult when in front of you was a steaming bowl of fennel soup, mostly fennel.

“I eat because I need to eat and also because I love to eat.” She took a spoonful of the soup and held it in her mouth. The only flavor was an intense licorice, a fennel flavor, it filled her mouth, it touched each crevice, it touched every spot of her nose and made it burn. But she tried to taste underneath the flavor of fennel. What else was wrong with the soup? The broth wasn’t flavorful enough, even if she used the right amount of fennel, the broth she used would never make it a good soup. She’d have to make her own broth. She wrote down in her notebook and tasted the soup again, and again, and again. Until all that was left in front of her was a bowl of fennel.

She checked her deck of cards and two new cards awaited her. Please don’t be a 2 of Fennel. The suit of the first card was pot’s mixing a bowl of green soup. The card even smelled a bit like fennel, but she couldn’t tell if that was because the whole tri-state area smelled like fennel. A 2 of Cooking. The second card’s suit was a wide-open mouth, slowly chewing a piece of meat. A 2 of Eating. She’d known she’d receive the cards. She’d been confident in that. But to see her theory put to reality, filled her with joy.

The cards were an easy combination and as light-filled the room from their combining, a new card took its place. 3 of Gourmand stared back at her, with a stylishly dressed Iona eating some green soup as its suit. She looked at the card and didn’t even think as she thrust it into herself. Pain shot through her fingers, pain wracked her head, she closed her eyes. After thirty seconds the pain was gone and all that remained was her.

She rushed to the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. Her face looked the same, her eyes too. Her body looked the same, except, where it didn’t. Her fingers were longer, she could tell that much. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. That didn’t look the same. It was longer, and redder, and just different. Someone else’s tongue had been stuck in her body. It wiggled around, waiting, waiting for something to enter it.

She put her hands to the mirror, she touched her face, she touched her body, she breathed in deep and closed her eyes.

Devotion. Prayer. Worship. Devotion. Prayer. Worship. She murmured to herself while she sat on the bench. She’d looked up different ways of working out but none of them seemed to her to be exceptionally different. Drop sets, submaximal loads, clean and jerks, plyometrics. Lots of stuff to try but to Iona, they all felt the same.

She didn’t notice as he approached her. She didn’t notice until his shadow aligned with hers on the ground.

“Can you spot me?” She looked up and met his eyes, Tony. She hadn’t thought of Tony in years. She hadn’t imagined him. He looked different, his muscles a little bit bigger, his presence a little more there. Nobody else was in the gym with them.

“Just for three, maybe, I don’t know if I’ll hit this.” He said, leading her to the bench he was sitting on. Three-hundred and sixty pounds lay on the bar. Thick large metal plates arranged in a neat row on the bar. He was strong. Very strong. Especially for how skinny he was.

“I’ve never spotted anyone before.” She’d known how to do it. She’d seen enough videos of people spotting people, but what if she fucked up? What if she killed him?

He got up.

“It’s easy. Just like stand below the bar and if it looks like I’m not gonna get it just like lift it up.” She nodded. She didn’t really know how to talk to him.

He sat back down on the bench and breathed in deep, sharp and loud. He lay his body, arched on the bar, ready to lift. He grabbed the weight and pushed up, levitating it above his chest. His muscles seemed to groan as he lifted it.

The bar went up, the bar went down, the bar went up, the bar went down. Each repetition was slow and methodical. He didn’t bounce the bar on his chest, as amateurs do, and he didn’t shake as he lifted. Four repetitions passed by.

The last came slower than the rest. Sweat dripped from her armpits. The bar fell again, a little faster than the previous times. He grunted, a sharp animal sound, and tried to thrust his arms forward. But they wouldn’t go all the way. The bar hovered for a second above his chest and then it started to fall down. Iona stared at it. Then realized she needed to help him.

She hovered right above him. Was she too close? She put her hands on the bar. His face squeezed. Her muscles tensed and she lifted. The bar shot up.

He breathed heavily and said nothing. They both stood. The only people in the gym.

“Thanks. Oh my God that last rep I thought I was going to die. You lifted that like it was nothing. I’m Tony, nice to meet you.” He didn’t remember her.

“I’m Iona, nice to meet you.” She said and started to walk back to her bench.

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“Wait. I’m such an asshole. You were in my history class like last year weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned.

“I hated that class so much God damn. That final essay destroyed me. You’re strong as shit are you on a sports team or something?” Red took up her face.

“I’m not. Yet.”

“You should join lacrosse or something. Our women’s team isn’t that good. You’d be a killer defender. I’d say you could even try the Physical club too. You’re buff as well.”

“I’ll think about it.” She turned again to move away.”

“I’m a Physical too. God, that club sucks so much but my dad makes me train it every day. I love working out but that Physical stuff just tires me out.”

“I’m a little embarrassed, I don’t even know what a Physical really is.” She said.

“Oh if I knew what it was I wouldn’t really be here. You’re one of the only people I see at the gym on the weekends. You put up some serious weight, what’s your squat?

“Like three-twenty-five, I think. I don’t really try to max.” He looked at her. His eyebrows jumped up.

“That’s a lot for a girl. Not saying that in like a sexist way but like that’s super impressive. You know if you’re already that strong you should come to the Physical club meeting tonight. There’ll be drinks and food and stuff and you’ll be able to meet more Physicals.” Iona’s mouth drooped open.

“Where is it?”

“You know the Gold’s Gym in Venice, like the famous one? We’ll be on the second floor, there should be a sign.”

“Ok.”

“Sounds good? You good? You coming?”

“Yep.” Iona said and walked away. She couldn’t think of anything else to say even though she wanted to extend the conversation. She really wanted to talk more. But the words just seemed to leave her head, falling away like wisps of smoke.

She went back to workout on her own, but her eyes drifted from the bars. If she could look at Tony, she would have noticed him staring at her. But she couldn’t look at him, the walls had magnets on them and she couldn’t look.

How could you be devoted to anything when you’d just been invited to something. Someone her age had never extended an invitation. They’d never even thought to.

Should she wear something nice? Should she try? What if they noticed her trying, what if they judged her for it. That wouldn’t be good. It was best to play it safe. Best to play it safe.

It was a cool night. Cool by Los Angeles standards. Highs of 55. But she wore a sweatshirt and sweats. She couldn’t quite make herself dress nicer. She didn’t want to come off as ostentatious. Various people drifted in and out of the gym, mostly bodybuilders or people that thought they were bodybuilders. Stranger characters as well. Three young kids went into the gym before her, they couldn’t have been more than seven years old.

She walked in through the sliding doors, a sign pointed her to the stairs for “Physical convention (shirts not recommended!)” Maybe she was overdressed. The gym was full of the smell of sweat and cologne. The smell collided on her nose and she drew back a bit. She’d never seen so many people working out in one room. Over a hundred people sat on various machines, benches, squat racks. Muscles on muscles on muscles, muscles that poked out from shirts, fat men who radiated strength, skinny men who could’ve been Greek statues, every variant of man and man.

She walked up the stairs, followed another sign, until she stood in front of two double doors, the sound inside the room reverberated outside. She could hear the throngs of people, she could feel their shouts in her bones.

She opened the doors.

Nobody wore a shirt. Everyone inside the large conference room, man, woman, child, stood shirtless and glorious. The wallpaper reminded her of the types of hotels she stayed with her mom when she went on business trips. But the same smell of sweat and cologne stunk in the air.

A sign stood in front of the doors: “Shirts off, remember that weirdo!” She stood at that sign for a while. Did she want to go here at all? She lifted her sweatshirt up two inches exposing her stomach, she was wearing a sports bra underneath, not like she would be naked. But could she show everyone, her fat? Her body? Her everything? She had a good body. She had a good body. She definitely had a good body. She was jacked. She was muscular, but these people were beautiful. She couldn’t show them.

“Iona yo over here.” A man’s voice shouted at her and Tony emerged from a throng of muscular people. His shirt was off. His muscles glinted in the light, his triceps bulged, his abs tightened and squeezed as he walked over. A large tattoo of a trident lay on his sternum. Even his legs bulged out of his shorts. An Adonis, an Eros, a beauty. He smiled and even his white teeth exudes beauty.

“You don’t have to take your shirt off if you don’t want to by the way. I don’t know why Jeremy puts that sign up. But you shouldn’t be shy, you have a great physique.” She blushed but still didn’t take her shirt off.

“Will anyone judge me?” She asked, her eyes drooped to the ground.

“Of course they will. That’s why we’re here. Physical conventions are were we are judged, and appraised, and told how to improve. But you have nothing to worry about, your physique is better than half the people here.” He gestured to the crowd as he said that. But it wasn’t true. It could not have been true.

Everyone was beautiful and blonde and tan and beautiful again. Their hair curled up in crisp surfer’s curls. The land of the gorgeous. But now as she looked more closely, some were pudgy, some were misshapen, and even they had their shirts off. Some even were downright fat, but the type of fat that looked athletic. They looked strong, not fat, she didn’t even know why she thought it. She lifted her sweatshirt above her head.

“Oh my Gosh. Oh my Gosh. Look at your abs, holy fuck, god damn. How did you get them chiseled like that. You have a better physique than me, this is not funny, this is not funny. Can I touch them? Oh my God is that creepy? I meant that in a loving way I promise.” He stared at her and she couldn’t even look back. She just nodded and nodded, her head moving up and down like a bobblehead.

“Come into the crowd and let me introduce you to the club. The girls will love you.” He took her hand, and electricity passed through. They walked through the crowd. She could feel every eye, she could feel every jostle.

“Your physique is so good, are you a boxer? What’s your visualization strategy? Holy fuck” Voices surrounded her, eyes surrounded her, everything was too much.

“This is Eugene, his body’s focus is on heat. Dude spends more time in the sauna than I spend eating food, which is a lot of time if you haven’t noticed. This is Mairita, she may have the biggest legs I’ve ever seen, man or woman. And finally this is Chuck, he’s a newbie like you, just starting out and he has a worse physique than you isn’t that funny.” Tony introduced his friends. Sweat poured down Eugene’s face. Mairita really did have gigantic legs, like tree trunks given flesh. Chuck seemed, well, normalish. Sure he had some muscle definition but definitely nothing special, his arms crossed over his chest, he seemed a little afraid of being shirtless.

“Oh m gee, it’s so nice seeing another girl here. Do you know how many creeps come to these shows, you gotta be careful.” Mairita said, putting her arms around Iona. Her voice was very deep, with a heavy bass and a beautiful timbre.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Iona said. They each stuck out their hands and shook hers.

“Tony, are you gonna perform?” Eugene asked.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of people here.”

“What’s performing?”

“Oh m gee, have you never seen it? Wait, look over there, they’re performing.” Mairita said, pointing at a group of men. Their muscles rippled. Not like the ripple of normal muscles when they flexed, like a great wave inside their bodies had been let loose. One of them, a taller man with close cut brown hair, threw his arm forward. A crack sounded in the room, and almost everyone was silent.

“Holy fuck. That guy is a full Physical.” He may have had the most perfect body Iona had ever seen. Everything was ideal. He was neither too big or too small, but a perfect medium. The muscles hung to his body like a well worn suit. Patches of gray splattered his beard. A large voice surrounded the space.

“Guests, guests, let us initiate a new member of our brotherhood, brother Schwartz had reached first achievement as a Physical. Everyone, please congratulate him.” She couldn’t tell where the voice came from but she could tell where every other voice came from. A thousand calls of congratulations came from the crowd. A fever of joy seemed to take in everyone. They buzzed and buzzed and their bodies edged closer and closer to the newly crowned Physical. The voice came out of the crowd again.

“Since everyone’s attention has been grabbed, we might as well begin the events that make up this conference. Since most of everyone here hasn’t gotten their first achievements and we only have one new member of that club, we will introduce our newest Physical initiates. Those who have just stepped onto the glorious road, those who have entered the way. Please step forward towards my voice.” Tony nudged her and Eugene poked at Chuck. Chuck shuffled forward and stopped. He tried to go towards the voice but his body almost didn’t let him.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He said and Iona agreed with him. But looking at Chuck, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about. Tony looked at Chuck and all she saw in that glance was disdain, hatred, apathy, pure inky blackness. She walked forward to the sound of the voice. All sorts of other men, mostly men, walked towards the voice, but none of them seemed to know where the voice was.

“Ah, I haven’t revealed myself. I will do so.” The booming voice resounded, but now in the middle of the room, where there was a gap in the crowd, no such gap existed. A man, about nine feet tall stood in the center. His muscles vibrated under the industrial lights.

“Come forward and greet your elder. You may not have heard of me but I am Combat God.” The man said. He had an eighteen pack, his biceps were bigger than Iona’s head, his legs were gigantic pistons that held up his body. He may have been the most muscular person ever and more importantly, he didn’t introduce himself with his given name. Iona walked forward. She remembered it clearly. What she must do to prevent herself from dying. What she must do.

Devotion and these steps she took were the first steps towards that goal.