by P. S. Power
Even when that became brutal, he climbed on the thing, and rode. There was nothing else to do, other than sit or lie in the dark.
After what felt like weeks, he realized that wasn't totally true. There was some space, so could Ben do things like stretch, and try some sit-ups. Push-ups, too. Some deep knee bends. Now those all really made him hurt, but he alternated doing that, getting his peddling on, and trying to stay clean enough that he didn't stink the place up too badly.
There was a limit to that part, since he sweat, even not working very hard, and the world around him was constantly damp now. There was salt in the air, having come from his own body.
Time didn't really seem to exist, except that he didn't feel good, and after a while he started to feel dizzy when he stood up. The blood rushing from his head made noise when that happened, so he got the idea. It wasn't him dying or being poisoned, he was just passing out. Thankfully that didn't happen if he rode fast enough.
That became his life, after a while. Sleeping for who knew how long, getting up and drinking water, then making up new exercises, trying to keep his crotch from getting too sore. He didn't even feel like jerking it, which was amazing. When that woman, Glenda, had suggested that to him, not doing that obsessively, it had seemed like a thing that made sense. Now, for some reason, probably starvation, he wasn't even getting erections. More, he didn't care about that kind of thing.
Even the rage he'd carried for years seemed like it was too much work anymore.
Slowly, over time, Ben started to spend more time in bed, trying to meditate, and less exercising. Not that he didn't work to keep up with that part, but it just became harder to do, until finally, one day, he only got up to use the toilet and drink water.
Though, honestly, he couldn't swear to that. That it had been a day. It might have been. The idea that it had been a lot less than that occurred to him, so finally he forced himself to move, and tried to exercise. He didn't know how long he'd been in there at that point. Fifty-three showers. After a long time on his friend, the bike, the pattern familiar now, if slow, he nodded.
Ben had taken to just leaving his clothing off, and wondered if anyone was ever coming for him. His middle was leaner now, but not flat. The muscle underneath wasn't like rock or anything, though he'd been doing thousands of crunches a day. Back raises, too. His thighs felt thinner, he thought, but it was kind of hard to tell. After all, the changes weren't instant and he had nothing to measure that kind of thing against.
Rather he did, he realized, eventually. That happened about a week later. Fourteen more showers. If he was only taking two a day. He really wasn't certain of that part. Ben just put his clothing back on. It was pretty loose compared to how it had been before. Almost like it wasn't the same stuff. Just as he was about to take it off, to give the bike a ride, he heard a sound. One that made him jump back in fear.
For the longest time it didn't make any sense. It wasn't his heart, or the bike. Ben wasn’t yelling… This was different. It was... The door.
That got his heart to pound pretty solidly, so he smiled, figuring that it was time for him to be turned into lunch, or whatever the plan was.
"Hello?"
He'd spoken to himself a lot, Ben knew. He'd tried not to, but it had happened several times a day. Yelling, too. Never on purpose, but when he thought about things, conversations with others, or even programs that he'd seen, it became very hard not to respond. The big difference here was that this time a voice came back. It was a woman's, and she wasn't very tall, really. About five-seven or so. Shorter than he was by several inches, if it was, as he suspected, Glenda.
"Ben? Would you like to come out? We need to discuss some things." She was, he thought, in the doorway. That was open, he knew. Not only due to the sound, but the air outside didn't smell like him. It was cooler, and moved around the woman there. She smelled like soap. Lucky her, getting things like that.
He tried to speak, but it took a bit, even though he'd just done it. The question was a good one, however. Insightful in a way that he would have never considered himself. Not before that moment. After all, he might need more time there, in the dark. From the way she'd spoken that didn't seem likely. It was probably just that he'd failed, not meeting whatever standard these people had. The talking to himself showing a lack of discipline on a deep level, or something like that. If so, he didn't doubt that he'd end up in a grave out in the forest.
At least they hadn't wasted food on him. Standing there, he nodded in the pitch black.
"Sure? Though if you're planning to kill me, I get to have sex with you first. It’s a rule I have. Not dying a virgin." For some reason she laughed.
Then, perhaps being kinder than he'd figured, somehow, the woman explained, instantly.
"Nothing like that. Not at all. In fact, you did better than anyone ever has before. We had brain reading equipment trained on you the whole time. You'll be glad to know that you aren't a government plant. Come out into the other room? We need to acclimate you to light again. I have a treat for you." She moved back, so he followed her, the other room being well lit.
Thinking about it, he shook his head. It really wasn't that in the slightest. The place had a single, very dim, LED to show where anything was. It didn't even hurt his eyes, meaning it wasn't exactly a spotlight. The treat wasn't a six course meal however.
It was a chair. Which was, when he thought about it, nearly as nice. Sitting without peddling. It felt like a novel concept.
The lady pointed at it, and smiled. It was an office kind of thing, with a cushioned seat and sturdy upholstery. It felt funny, under him, making a lot of noise when he settled into it. It seemed like the sound nearly hurt, but it had to be practically nothing, he knew.
Ben just wasn't used to that kind of thing any longer.
"We ran bio-readings the entire time. You were in there for forty-two days, by the way. You yelled seventy-six times, took a hundred and seven showers, and exercised nearly sixteen hours a day, on average. Most of the time you were in either a theta or delta brainwave state. Technically you managed meditation, but it wasn't that coherent, not knowing how to do it. Over all? Not bad. The general consensus was that you'd pound on the door and beg to be let out after fifteen minutes. Most do. Well..." There was actual humor in her voice, and the woman settled on the edge of an object not far away from him. "To be honest, most make forty-five minutes to an hour or two. Hours. Then panic sets in. A soul wrenching terror that they can’t fight back. That you didn't do that is why we need to talk. It probably means there's something very wrong with you. We haven't worked out exactly what that is. A mental disorder of some kind?"
He wanted to stiffen, offended, but didn't have the energy for that. So instead he nodded.
"Really? Interesting, I guess. So, what does that mean? If you're killing me, you can dig my grave yourself. Otherwise it would take too long."
That got another chuckle.
"Not a worry. So far you're actually making it. Better than anyone expected. We can start the real training soon. In a few days? First we need to reintroduce food to you, and start the rest of the program. I can tell you something about that now, since it will take about half an hour for the light to get bright enough for your eyes not to sting when you leave here. Does that sound all right with you?"
He nodded, then recalled that real people did that thing with their mouths. Speaking.
"Sounds great. I could use a story."
"Right. Well, this one is a bit bland as far as descriptive details, but the idea is a simple one. If the Cymeds are going to ever impact anything in the world, we have to become something that the government can't match. They have robots, mech armor and quantum computing down. Plus, a spy network that's hard, though not impossible, to bypass. We run a two tiered system here. The government agents get the surface things and watered down training. The rest of us do the real thing. So if you find an agent, try not to tell them all the good secrets." She moved, her legs shifting a bit. He co
uld see that now, and while the color of her outfit wasn't clear, it was a loose, but heavy seeming, top and trousers. Like what she'd worn before. Probably part of a uniform, rather than a really lousy fashion sense.
After a bit she moved enough that her foot touched his on the ground, before moving back almost instantly.
"So we've pushed into other areas. Mainly genetic enhancements, drug therapies, and personal skills. If you take our training, and master what you need to, then you'll be in a very unique position for anyone on this world. You, as a single person, will be the equal of one combat trained soldier in full mechanized armor. An unarmed one." She didn't sound smug about it, even if that was kind of a big thing.
The fact was that a regular person out of armor was pretty much just expected to die if faced with a person in it. It was in fact, huge. If it was real.
Glenda shook her head and went on.
"They still have us on weapons. We have programs for that going on, but so far our best efforts are basically just a repetition of what the government has. It works, but not that well against armor. The biggest problem we have isn't that one, though it's a major concern. After all, we aren't going up against them head to head if we can help it. That's just a fallback position in case we're about to be caught. Can you guess what the real difficulty is?"
Ben shook his head. There were too many things that it could be. Including something that was meant as a joke that he simply wasn't going to be getting that day.
"No."
The room was quiet for a bit, but there was a buzzing that indicated something that he hadn't noticed for a long time. Probably that there was some kind of power in the place, and that fans were running, to provide a constant flow of air to the room he'd been in.
Glenda was breathing as well. Smoothly, and without effort. His own breathing was similar, he noticed, which was new. When Ben had first gone into the dark place, he'd been horribly loud, he realized now. In hindsight.
The woman spoke softly. She'd been using very close to a whisper the whole time.
"We can train and alter a person into being able to take out one, or possibly two, armored combatants at one time. One or two. In order to have any kind of shot at making this work, our best projections show that we need to be able to take out twenty-seven to one. That, or get a whole lot more people on our side." A gentle sigh came then. "That's just for the program of infiltration and sabotage we have planned, too. We probably can't make that happen."
Ben nodded.
"Oh? All right. Well, we should get started then. We'll think of something."
That for some reason, got him patted on the shoulder.
"That's the plan. We need to find a way to win. So, even knowing that, you're in with us? Knowing we probably can't do it?"
Ben didn't move, enjoying the chair, but eventually spoke.
"I... Always knew that I couldn't beat the government. My plan is just to make them pay, as best I can. Before I die."
Nothing was said for a long time, but finally the woman stood. The light had been slowly getting brighter the whole time, letting his eyes get used to it.
"All right, Ben. I think we can work with that. Come on."
Then she led him to a door. It wasn't the one that he'd come in from.
Chapter two
The world was bright outside, being daytime. It was evening, he thought. There were clouds above the trees. Almost all of them were evergreens, which explained why the air smelled like pine cleaner. It was fresher seeming than he was, even though Ben had tried to be as cleanly as possible.
It felt interesting to be out and about, moving. Walking and taking in sights and sounds. He would have figured that everything would be too much for him, but his brain tried to drink it all in. So instead of acting like a prisoner in an old show that had a big bushy beard and no mind to speak of left, he just had the one part of that going on. It was scruffy, and shorter on the left side when he rubbed at it.
Mainly because he slept on that side. It kept the thing worn a bit. Not that he was impressive that way. Really, he needed to shave that off, if he ever got a chance. It would remind him too much of his father, otherwise. He'd always worn a beard and had, the entire time that Ben had been alive. Well trimmed though. The man had always made a point of that.
The woman in front of him flowed over the dirt path, walking quickly. It wasn't that hard to keep up, now. Part of that was probably due to him being in better shape. Less fat, too. The only thing there was that he had to hold his pants up, since they kept wanting to slip all the way off, even though they were tightened enough. They were just blue jeans, and not made of smart fabric, so it didn't try to size itself to him. Chubby people didn't normally go into that kind of thing, and he never had. Skin tight clothing was great if you had a body to show off, and bad for nearly everything else. Even his guide, or whatever she was, wore loose, flowing, real things.
In gray.
It wasn't an inspired clothing choice, and didn't make her look less manly, but Ben just nodded and looked at her ass anyway. After all, judging her on that kind of thing was wrong. Plus, he had to admit that if the woman wanted to do something with him, he simply would have. Even if she had a dick under her trousers. Her butt was cute anyway, if in a slightly too muscular way. Unlike him. He was still just soft looking and probably a bit fat.
Realizing that he'd been thinking of that kind of thing Ben grinned to himself, and was a bit surprised when the woman turned and looked at him for a bit. There was a questioning look to go along with it.
"Is something funny?"
He sighed, though it was a bit fake, and shook his head, feeling slow and a bit fuzzy, mentally.
"Not really. I was just thinking that you have a cute behind... Which got me to realize that I should probably be a bit more focused on other things."
Instead of hitting him, or telling him off for being inappropriate, which he was being, the woman just nodded a few times.
"Mainly. There are people of all sexes here, and no rules saying you can't have a relationship if you want. For the first months that will be hard to arrange however. Never with me, since I'm going to be your mentor. You probably want to not do anything with Carlos either. He's in charge of the unarmed combat program here." She giggled then, though it didn't really sound correct, coming from her, and went on. "Not that he likes men. It's just that Ali, his girlfriend would cut you if she thought that was happening. Possibly for real. She's a bit... Well, I don't want to prejudice you on that score. Not everyone here is mentally solid. If they were, then, well, they probably wouldn't be here. Not given everything."
He got that part for himself, without needing any explanation. They were, as a group, trying to take down an almost impossible to beat foe. A fight that, as far as anyone knew, they couldn't win. Not without some kind of miracle taking place. As it stood he didn't even know what kind of thing he'd be expected to learn.
"So, there's fighting, and... Exercise? Weight lifting? Bike riding?" He'd done one of those things a lot, and got a nod for his trouble.
"Those and more. You won't really need a lot of weight lifting, but we have other programs, to help with that. To help you learn how to use your muscular potential to the fullest. We actually have several programs based on what you already have as a genetic potential. We could go with anything, but if we stay close to what you can already do and just tweak things, a bit it becomes harder for the NSA to work out that you've had extensive work done that way. It's not illegal, but if you do too much, they will put a watch on you. Luckily they don't test DNA all the time."
Nodding as they walked Ben could see that. Technically you could have people with superhuman abilities manufactured that way. A few shots, and some time would be enough to start an army. Which if they could find people willing to fight, might be something to consider. Do that to most of the population, and they could outnumber the government thousands to one.
There had to be some kind of drawback to that however. One
that he was just too tired and apathetic to understand at the moment.
The woman looked back at him, brushing her light colored hair from her face, where a few strands had fallen.
"There's a lot of training needed. Physical and mental. When I started we didn't have that much direction, so I was pushed physically more than was useful. Some of the changes really can't be undone, either. Not without killing me. So I work in training. As you might imagine, anyone seeing me coming would probably catch on to the idea that I'm not exactly one hundred percent normal without a lot of effort. Now we do some different things. Drugs, basic changes to give our people an edge that aren't that obvious, and a lot of work. That's the hard part, but the truth is, we can take an un-augmented person and inside of three years train them to be able to take on a person in mech armor, hand to hand. Not every time, but enough to make it pretty much an equal fight."
That sounded impressive to him. Even being in slightly better shape than he ever had been before, Ben couldn't really see it. That kind of armor was what allowed the military and police to be able to pretty much dominate the rest of them unchallenged. You didn't win a fight against them.
Except that here was a person claiming they could. It seemed hard to credit, but he was willing. Mainly because walking was taking up most of his current energy.
"Plus, we can make you faster, stronger and better endured without even making you look all that different. It took a while to work out however. So, I'm stuck like this, more or less. Luckily I have that cute behind, eh?"
Ben nodded at that, since he could work out how that might be a problem for her. She'd signed up for a specific task, no doubt. Taking down her enemies. Then ended up kind of locked in place, being a priestess or whatever they called it, for the Cymeds. Pretty much for the rest of her life, as things stood right then.
