Despite the flurry of activity around my condition, I had work to do. The feeling of being completely refreshed – both from a damned good sleep in the bunker, my performance to Doc Matthews and Becky’s oral efforts – was not only new but indescribably invigorating; somewhere in my newly discovered subconscious, there was an internal editing station that needed exploring and with some free time in the real world until the next round of test, there was no time like the present to start looking into what I could do.

It was strange, I thought to myself as I entered my bunker and looked around; I obviously had no idea what these machines were truly capable of, yet at the same time, I seemed instinctively aware of how to work them and how to find out. Marco had been a great instructor, but his limited experience and appreciation of technology seemed to limit not only his ‘library’ but also the way he used it – Toiling through books seemed incredibly inefficient; to be honest, scrolling through information on screens and typing commands didn’t seem like a huge improvement - voice commands were the way to go, something that Marco’s pen and paper approach simply couldn’t accommodate.

“Alright, computer…” I said, somehow knowing that this would work, walking into the room and starting to pace in circles around the pedestal, pacing being something I often did when I was trying to think. “Scan my imagination, and cross-reference all conscious and subconscious desires with attributes that my powers are capable of granting me… display the results on the main screen.”

The main screen – I had decided – was the screen to the left of the door, the one still streaming the lines of decipherable data. It was easily large enough to be viewed from anywhere in the bunker without the need to seat myself in one position.

In a few seconds, line after line of abilities started scrolling up the screen, thousands of them… tens of thousands maybe. My eyes scanned the list as it scrolled by, my eyebrows raising at some of the more …. Novel… possibilities.

“Asbestos skin – immune to burning… I guess that could be useful. Invisibility: maybe if I was still in high school and had girls’ locker rooms around, but otherwise, it would be useless. X-Ray vision… err, no. There were a few that piqued my interest, though. Telekinesis: the ability to move objects with my mind. I can see how that would come in handy being sat in bed. Sexual stamina: ability to achieve and maintain erections at will, instant refill of testis after expenditure…. Most fucking definitely, apply that bad boy now!”

I smiled as row after row of potential abilities scrolled up the screen; some of them were ridiculous, better for little more than a party trick, the ability to perfectly imitate another voice or sound, for example. Others, such as hardened skin and ballistic shielding – obviously for times when my life would be under threat – would normally be laughable, but the foreboding at the back of my mind about the threat posed by the Inquisitors made me take special note of them. Others, despite my request that only useful options be shown, were ridiculous…

“Change my gender at will… As much as I love women, I have no desire to become one. Change my skin color… Look, the green chicks on Star Trek were pretty hot. The guys, not so much… Besides, that would definitely be noticed… selective fertility, the ability to only reproduce at will; yeah ok, that one might actually come in handy.”

I slumped down onto the sofa – the one whose function I still didn’t know - my eyes never leaing the screen as more rows scrolled up.

“May I be of assistance?” A voice sounded from behind me.

“Holyfuckingshitballs!” I leaped from the sofa, spinning around to face the intruder and instinctively dropping into a fighting stance. I was momentarily proud of that last part, but my attention was instantly pulled towards the strange suited figure standing next to the pedestal.

He looked like… well… a butler, for lack of a better word. Immaculately dressed in a full suit coat and tails, he was only missing the top hat to complete the look of a man at the Royal Ascot races, standing perfectly upright, his hands clasped behind his back. A thin ring of grey hair circled the shining bald patch on the top of his head, and a keen pair of grey eyes regarded me with a look of amused tolerance as he arched an eyebrow awaiting my response.

“Err… who are you?”

“I am you.” He answered plainly, without a hint of humor or impatience.

I narrowed my eyes at the man, suddenly remembering that – according to Marco – nobody else could possibly be in this room. “Are you the Pete of Christmas future?” I asked, relaxing from my stance and standing upright. “Have you come back from the future to warn me about the Terminators?” my mind reached out for his… nothing, nothing at all… It was like he wasn’t there.

His eyes never left me. He just stared indifferently as if waiting for me to finish before answering my question. He raised a single eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m done,” I mumbled, like a school child being scorned by a teacher.

“I am the representation of your subconscious, a guide if you will.” He said calmly and politely.

I scrunched up my eyebrows, “I thought this whole room was a representation of my subconscious.”

“You have been misinformed.” He stated simply, “this room is little more than a tool, a way for you to interact with and interpret information from your mind. You give instructions; your subconscious applies them. There is very little two-way communication other than that.” He paused, waiting for me to process that before continuing. “I am the embodiment of your mind, a way to directly communicate with your own subconscious.”

“Oh… well… nice to meet you, I guess,” I answered, not really sure what to do with that information.

“Likewise.” He added without expression.

“So, where did you come from? You weren’t here the last time I came in?” I had barely finished the sentence when my eyes widened in understanding. “The sofa! Of course…” I sat myself back on the leather couch, giving myself a moment to appreciate the luxurious softness and comfort of it. “So, what’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Don’t you think you should have one?”

“Do you?”

“Err… yes, it would make talking to you easier.”

“If you insist, sir.”

I narrowed my eyes at the butler. “You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you?”

“And yet, I have a limitless supply of patience.”

“You look like a Jeeves,” I said after a pause, a pause spent scratching my stubbled chin.

“Very good, Sir.” he said flatly, obviously not appreciating either his new name or the humor behind it, “Now, shall we continue?”

“Jeeves, you need to relax a bit, man,” I smirked; I was going to enjoy teasing this man… myself… whatever. Nouns were becoming increasingly irrelevant in this room. “I am all ears, but you need to sit down and relax. I’ve never had a butler before…”

“I am not a butler.”

“… but I’m pretty sure this overly formal personality is going to get old quickly.” I said, ignoring his statement, he sure as shit looked like a butler. “Hey, have you seen Iron Man?”

I could almost see his jaw clench a little. “Have you seen it?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, so have I.”

“Right, of course… Well, be Jarvis,” I smiled, “Helpful, informative, Sarcastic, much more amiable than this stick-up-your-ass routine that you’ve got going on.” It was more of a tease than an insult, but Jeeves’ expression changed almost immediately. He rolled his eyes and sat down on the other end of the sofa. He took a deep breath, smiled with mild, humorous annoyance, and raised his eyebrows.

“Much better,” I grinned. “Please continue.”

“How kind of you, Sir. Now, as I was saying, the devices in this room are little more than tools; there is no real intelligence behind them. The results of your request for a list of abilities should illustrate that… the ability to make your bowel movements glow in the dark – although amusing – would be absolutely useless. Communicating your desires through me would give much better results. Moreover, having a comprehensive understanding of your capabilities, I am in a position to recommend abilities that would be more useful or appropriate in certain conditions without the need for you to assess the value of every possible ability individually. It would also save you the trouble of having to implement those changes yourself, you could simply tell me what you want, and I can make the necessary alterations.”

“Wait, go back,” I coughed, my mind suddenly latching onto something that Jeeves had just said. “You have a comprehensive understanding of my abilities?”

“Of course, Sir.” The confused look on my face prompted Jeeves to continue. “As Marco explained, your subconscious has an innate understanding of your body and mind’s capabilities and limitations. As soon as your powers were activated, I became aware of the change and of how to access and use these powers. Your… bunker… was formed almost immediately as a way for your conscious mind to interact with them. but am I the ‘sentient’ – for lack of a better word – aspect of your mind, making me a much more efficient and intelligent way for those powers to be accessed and understood.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Uhuh,” I said after a pause; almost all of what Jeeves had said had flown right over my head. “So… In English… What does that mean for me?”

Jeeves sighed as if disappointed – but in no way surprised – that I hadn’t quite gotten the point of his speech. “Let me give you an example. I have found a group of abilities that I think will appeal to you and grouped them together under a title you may appreciate, something these tools aren’t capable of.” He nodded towards the main screen on the wall. Two words, in large white writing, filled the upper half of the screen, and I immediately understood the benefit of what Jeeves could provide.

Jedi Powers.

“You have got to be shitting me!” I laughed, clapping my hands together in appreciation. Below the two words was a short list of abilities that this group contained; telekinesis, mind influence (as opposed to outright mind control), martial arts and weapons training, precognitive reflexes, heightened metabolic movement – the ability to do shit really fast, or jump really high etc, although that one was set to ‘off’ for the time being – and advanced emotional control. “Ok, that’s pretty cool.” I grinned at Jeeves.

“Here’s another one,” Jeeves said, sounding happier that I was taking him more seriously. Another two words appeared on the screen; ‘Red Alert’, and Jeeves kept talking to explain. “With the threat posed by these Inquisitors, I thought it would be prudent to have some sort of defensive measures on hand in the event that you are attacked, as Marco suggested. This group of abilities allows you to read the minds of anyone around you to detect threats to your safety, so if someone meant to do you harm, these defenses would automatically activate.”

“Nice, so what defenses are we talking about?”

“Well, for starters, enhanced combat skills…”

“I thought the Jedi and martial arts skills did that.” I interrupted.

“No, these are more… extreme,” Jeeves answered after considering the appropriate wording, “It will couple a highly advanced knowledge in the use of every and any weapon and martial art known to man, significantly increased physical strength, and your telekinetic skills… Think Superman, Jason Bourne, and Yoda all rolled into one. It also includes the ballistic shielding power you spotted earlier, which will make you impervious to most kinds of bullets or other weapons… Many of these skills do overlap, though, enhanced reflexes, for example. These skills – if you were ever attacked – would make you one of the most dangerous people on Earth.”

“Err… sweet.” I finally said after a long pause. My mind’s preoccupation with the Inquisitors and the assumption that I would need to defend myself seemed both premature and over-compensatory, yet I couldn’t argue with the mantra that it was better to be safe than sorry. “So, what about skills that I would consider more… I don’t know… fun?”

“Well, to be honest, you have already activated a few of them. Being more attractive to women, making them come on to you rather than you having to make the first move, increased sexual aggression towards you and increased sexual stamina, selective fertility, the musical instruments were a nice touch, and so on… You did miss out on instant success, though.”

“What’s that?”

“It makes you successful at whatever you try, on the first and every attempt.”

“At what?”

“At anything.”

“So, if I wanted to win the lottery, or write a bestselling book, or leap a tall building in a single bound…?”

“You’d be successful, well… not the jumping buildings part. Laws of physics would still apply, but otherwise… yes.” Jeeves shrugged

“Wouldn’t that make life a little… boring?”

“Probably.” He replied, “but it would be useful if you were trying to pull off a particularly difficult task with little chance of success.”

“Hmmm.” I hadn’t thought of that part, and it would come in handy for some of the more difficult parts of my college degree in the unlikely event that my increased knowledge and understanding failed me. There was a part of me that understood that my life – at least in regards to the threats now posed to it – had completely changed, but the bigger part of it was still refusing to acknowledge the negative side of my new powers. “Maybe that is one to keep on the back burner for now. Anything else.”

“Yes, you have a visitor, sir.”

“What?”

The door to my hospital room swung open, yanking me out of my bunker. “Alright, dude, this isn’t funny anymore. You’ve gotta stop breaking when I’m not around.” Jimmy said with a slightly forced smile. “More problems and more tests, I hear.”

Still a little disoriented from the sudden change of subject and scenery, I blinked a few times before realizing what my friend was talking about.

“Err… well, apparently, I am not quite as broken as I should be.”

Jimmy’s face contorted into a look of confusion that would be funny under any other circumstances. “What?”

“Well, according to the consultant, I shouldn’t be able to move and should be in a ridiculous amount of pain…”

“And… that isn’t the case?”

“Nope. I feel fine… and they don’t like it.”

“I’m confused.” Jimmy finally said after staring at me in silence for a few moments.

“I can tell.”

“Ha-fucking-ha,” he frowned with a smirk. “So…” he shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts into a coherent position, “you’re not as bad as they thought? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“They don’t know… hence the more tests.”

Jimmy and I just stared at each other for a few seconds, “dude, can’t you just… like… be a normal patient in the hospital. You know, be ill when you’re supposed to be, not die or confuse the doctors and hot nurses, that kind of thing?” he asked with a smirk.

“Funny, I was going to ask him the same thing.” Phillipa’s voice came from the door. Jimmy’s face broke into a smile as he turned to the source of the voice, and his smile was met with a more demure one from her. “Pete, you have another visitor, A mister Prof?” she scrunched her eyebrows at the piece of paper in her hand, “Mr. Prof and a Jacob… oh for fuck sake…” she muttered. “… god damned receptionists, I think it means there is a professor Jacobs here to see you.”

Jimmy and I both widened our eyes; with everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten that the professor was due to visit. We both sat upright. Well, Jimmy did, straightening himself up in his chair while I tried to look more… horizontal. “Oh, and Pete?” Phillipa called from the door. “Please try to stop scaring the shit out of Becky. I don’t think the poor girl can take much more.” A wry grin played across her face.

“I promise nothing,” I smirked back

A few moments later, the professor was led into the room. Professor Jacobs was brilliant; he had played a part in designing software for computers that was still being used a decade after its development and was considered one of the pioneers of modern gaming technology, yet judging by the looks of him, he was closer to my age that that of my parents, or even the other professors on the course. A stern and quiet man – until provoked – there was an energetic quality behind his eyes that hinted at his keen intellect. He was the sort of man that would never say five words when two would do, always quick to praise and quicker to scold, his no-nonsense approach to teaching surprised me with its effectiveness. Despite being intimidated by the power this man had over my success in my degree – and the fact that most students hated his lessons – he was actually one of my favorite lecturers.

Apparently, the feeling was mutual; Professor Richard Jacobs had always prided himself on his ability to spot that one shining light in the sea of mediocrity that usually filled his lecture theater. Computer game development seemed like ‘fun’ to most of the students that passed under his tutelage, like being good at playing video games somehow equated to even the most basic understanding of how they worked. On average, 40% of the students that started the first year of his course had dropped out by the end of first-year exams, and barely over half of those left would go on to graduate. His course was second only to the college’s medical school in terms of student attrition.

So, two months ago, when his brightest and most promising student literally disappeared from the face of the earth, he was more than a little disappointed. It had taken a few weeks for news of my situation to find its way to his ears causing that disappointment to change to concern. The circumstances had also explained the less concerning – but equally noticed – absence of my group partner as well; although Jimmy would never set the game development world on fire, Jacobs had to admit a newfound respect for the young man’s character. He was doubtful that any of his own friends would have made such a sacrifice for him if he were in the same position I was in. All the same, Jimmy was a valued member of the class, always willing to put his hand up to answer a problem or keep a discussion rolling, it was people like him who kept the excitement in the classroom and made Jacobs’ job much easier.

He strode into the room and took the chair that Jimmy hastily offered him. “Pete, Jimmy…” he nodded to the pair of us with a formal smile, the sort of formal smile that happens when you are trying not to make it look formal but ending up making it look more formal than normal. He quickly gave up smiling. “It’s good to see you both.”

“Professor, it’s good to see you,” I replied as Jimmy rounded the bed to stand on the other side of me, placing my bed between him and the professor. Although Jimmy didn’t dislike Jacobs, he always had the feeling that the professor was one bad mark away from flunking him, and it made him nervous.

“I… err… don’t want to intrude, so I will make this as brief as I can.” Jacobs started, looking around the room surrounding us. This was another man who didn’t like hospitals. “The course board has met to discuss your circumstances, and I am here to inform you of the outcome. So…” the professor pulled some paperwork out of the satchel that was hung over his shoulder, leafing through the pages as he talked, “…as you should already know, you were both granted a deferral on the semester due to unforeseeable extenuating circumstances, you understand what that means, right?”

“Err… actually, not really,” I replied after a pause.

“That’s ok… basically, what it means is that the credits for the work you have already completed are yours, but – obviously – you haven’t acquired enough credits or completed enough of the course to move onto the third year. The ‘extenuating circumstances’ clause simply means that the deficit is explainable in a manner the university accepts; in your case, you would have completed the year but couldn’t due to medical problems. The deferred semester status is a little more complicated; under normal circumstances, if you failed to meet the requirements to complete the year, you would have been flunked, but due to the extenuating circumstances, you are being offered the chance to finish your studies at a later date without any consequences. There are three options available to students in your position; the first one is that you resit the second year – or at least the parts of it you missed. The second is to progress onto the third year and make up the credits there, essentially squeezing a year and a half’s worth of work into a single year.

“I took the liberty – however – of putting you down for the third option, Assessment by Board; this is a rarely used option and is reserved for a student that the faculty are confident would have passed the year with good marks if it wasn’t for an event outside of their control. If all members agree, you are given a passing mark for the modules you missed and progress onto the third year as if nothing happened. I am happy to tell you that you have passed that board and – should you wish to continue your studies – you are welcome to rejoin us in September or whenever you are fit enough to return.”

My eyes widened at the news. I had assumed that my college career was basically over and I would have to start again, at least from the start of the second year; it was the same assumption that made me appreciate Jimmy’s sacrifice as much as I did. This idea that I would be able to basically pick up where I left off hadn’t even occurred to me. “I… Err… I don’t know what to say.” I said, turning to look at the smile on Jimmy’s face. His forced smile – like an actor applauding the winner of his Oscar nomination – pulled my mind away from its own selfish ends. “I can’t thank you enough, but… What about Jimmy?”

“I…” the professor scrunched up his eyes, looking back at the paperwork, “Sorry, what about Jimmy?” he asked in confusion.

“He is off for the same reason as I am. It doesn’t seem fair that I am being offered a place, and he isn’t,” I answered slowly, being careful not to throw this generous offer back in the professor’s face.

“Pete, it’s ok, this is great,” Jimmy said from the other side of my bed.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” the professor cut in, “this offer is for both of you.”

“Wait.” Jimmy looked up in astonishment, “What?”

The professor narrowed his eyes, flicking them between Jimmy and me, “I’m not sure what part of this you are confused about.”

“I passed a board assessment? Me?” Jimmy asked, his jaw still firmly on the floor. “I thought I was barely scraping a passing grade!”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from.” Jacobs shrugged, “You’re not top of the class, but you’re definitely in the top half.”

“But… I didn’t think you liked me!” I was starting to get a little dizzy, swinging my head between the two men on either side of my bed.

“Why would that matter?” The professor asked again. “Look, I don’t know you well enough to decide if I like you personally or not, but either way, my personal opinion of you would have no bearing on the outcome of the board; it’s purely based on academics. Pete…” he turned to me, “…it isn’t very often that a student has such a complete comprehension of the subject matter as you do. You are top of the class in every metric. Your grades alone would qualify you for passing the board.” He turned to Jimmy, “your marks aren’t as high as his, but being in the same group, I’m guessing you already know that. But if there is ever a class discussion, you are always involved, driving debate, solving problems, and keeping the class thinking. You are actually my favorite type of student; one who is genuinely interested in the subject and is willing to learn… and you have been learning, there has been a steady improvement in you work since you started last year. Yes, you make mistakes, lots of them, but unlike some of your classmates, you learn from them, and that learning curve will see you graduate with a very good mark.

“More than that, your character – the sacrifice you were willing to make and the burden you took on in Pete’s care – is, frankly, inspiring. That kind of moral fortitude is something that my faculty would never allow to be used against a student. Our college needs more young people like you, not less. You only have one issue, Jimmy, and that is a lack of confidence in your work. Solve that, and you will do fine.”

Jimmy’s expression of astonishment was – in a word – hilarious, but his mind was reeling. He had genuinely believed that he was barely making it through the course without making a fool of himself; being told by the head lecturer that he wasn’t only safe from flunking but actually doing well was a thought too surprising to process. His mouth just opened and closed a few times, like a fish out of water, as his brain abjectly failed to connect with his mouth. I spoke for both of us. “We would be happy to come back to school in September.” I smiled, “assuming I am able by then.” I added.

“Keep us informed of your progress.” The professor said with a nod and a smile, standing from his chair and reaching out to shake our hands, mine first, followed by the still-mute Jimmy. “I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you, professor.” I nudged Jimmy with an elbow.

“Err… yeah. Thank you, professor. I won’t let you down.”

“See you both soon.” And with another smile, the King was gone.

Jimmy remained silent for a few more minutes, quietly making his way back around the bed and slumping into his chair. “Did you hear that?” he asked eventually.

“Yeah, always said you were doing fine.” I smiled.

“No, he said I was his favorite,” his face cracked into a grin. “Now I am the golden boy.” He laughed.

“Shall we call him back and get him to clarify?”

“Nope, I know what I heard.” His grin spread. “I am far superior to you in all intellectual matters, and my new best friend will see me through.”

“Really?” I laughed. “and what about your old best friend?”

“Ah fuck him,” Jimmy snorted playfully.

“I’ll tell Phillipa you won’t be around anymore then, shall I?”

Jimmy paused for a second. “Well played, sir… Well played.” We both burst into laughter.