The rest of the training day was standard. After lunch, we listened to a former recruit, who was now a team leader, give a presentation on situational tunnel vision. The biggest takeaway, in my opinion, was that there was nothing any of us could do to prevent it from happening. Her presentation lasted over an hour, as she found one way after another to tell us that the tunnel vision is going to happen in the beginning, and that by “being aware, and expecting it” we could make sure we had the presence of mind to try and work through it. After the presentation, we finished the day with a quick meal and an extended run, going two more miles than usual. About halfway through, as my body started to do all of the things it does every time they made us run, I decided to try and use the breathing tips Sink had given to me, slowly drawing in air. I thought it was working at first, and then a big drop of sweat rolled down that perfect spot on my forehead to bring it directly into my right eye, and I realized I already couldn’t see out of it. By using Sink’s breathing technique during the run, I had been steadily working toward blacking out.
One thing the extended run had been good for, other than kicking my butt even worse than the previous runs, was giving me time to think. I was still feeling frustrated and angry from earlier, and thought it would be good if I tried to understand why I felt that way. I knew I wasn’t really angry at Hunter, but if I didn’t figure out exactly how I felt, I might come off that way when I got a chance to talk with him. I started working through each aspect of what was bothering me, doing my best to go chronologically. I thought about my meeting with Sink, and tried to decide what we had really done. We’d breathed, and I’d talked with the voices, so I thought maybe I was angry about how quickly she’d decided she couldn’t help me. That made sense to me, especially since Fibre had built up my expectations.
He should have known what Hunter did and advised me better. He’s a Senior Cape; it’s his job to make sure we’re taken care of.
So, you are angry with him?
Aren’t you?
If you’re angry with him, we’re angry with him. Do you want us to make him feel bad?
…No.
Perhaps you’re not very angry, then.
I was coming up on the last leg of the run and had concluded I wasn’t angry with Fibre, Hunter, or Sink. I thought about Hilly, and realized I hadn’t seen her since lunch the day before. I actually couldn’t recall seeing her at dinner the night before meeting with Sink, either. I never actually saw her in her bed, and I hadn’t seen her at lunch that day. All of the recruits started the run together, and I realized I didn’t see her even then. In a weird way, it was a nice break to focus on that while trying to work through my feelings, as I could only be curious and wonder where she was.
Thinking about her led me back to times throughout my past that I was still holding on to. The yelling match I got into when I was ten with one of my caregivers, after she told me my hair was getting too long. It got caught on a branch the very next day when I jumped to the ground, gravity ultimately winning the argument my caregiver could not. I had a bald spot for a while.
Then I started to think about the day my dad died. It always felt wrong or dangerous to think back to when that happened, at least after I’d concluded that the voices I talked with in my head weren’t going away. I think somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that if I thought about it too often, the voices might get worse, or become more frequent. I guess I was worried that if I were already crazy, I might somehow get crazier by bringing those memories back up. But if my dad being murdered and my brother being kidnapped was just something terrible that happened to me, if the voices weren’t related in the way I thought they were, maybe it wasn’t so dangerous to think back to it.
If you’re not a part of me, and if I didn’t create you, does that mean the experience wasn’t traumatic?
We remember that day. You were very scared.
Do you… do you remember the men who tried to take me?
Yes.
Do you know who they were?
Not in the same way you would.
What do you mean?
You are like us, Little One, but you do not go through the world as we do. You focus on things we would never be concerned with. What you see when you look at someone is much different than what we see.
What did you see when you looked at the men who killed my father?
Power, anger, and fear.
What do you see when you look at me?
That you are like us.
Is that why you protected me?
We protected you because you asked us to.
What if I asked you to leave me alone?
Is that what you want?
…I’m not sure what I want. But I do think I need to talk to Hunter.
You should do that.
The end of the extended run, which I personally extended even farther for no good reason by another half mile, brought me to the opposite side of the academy than we normally ended up. There was no bench that day to sit down on. I was ready to collapse, completely drenched in sweat, my feet feeling three sizes too big for my shoes and my stomach feeling once more like it was ready to disconnect from my body completely. As I slowed down, my sweatpants stuck to different parts of my legs awkwardly, and my shirt felt soggy on my neck. Fibre was waiting with a towel. I could tell it was him and not a copy, because he looked impatient. One thing I had picked up on about him was that he used his copies frequently to save time, or do things he didn’t want to do, like get out of bed. That was actually a really fun experience, realizing that when Fibre falls asleep, his copies start to get really weird before they disappear.
“Sorry to… keep you waiting,” I heaved.
“You made okay time, actually. For you, at least. And I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” I kept walking to cool down, pacing in a small circle. Fibre gently directed me back towards the academy and seemed to think for a moment.
“I really thought your meeting with Sink was going to go differently.” he said. “And I’m sorry that it didn’t.”
“That’s okay, I-”
“It’s just that she has always been able to help people learn how to use their powers. And I thought that she’d be able to help you, too.”
“Really, Fibre, it’s-”
“And I realize I got your hopes up, and that wasn’t right, and I just feel so bad, and-”
I stepped in front of Fibre and put my hands on his shoulders, trying not to feel dizzy from turning so fast, and looked him in the eyes. “Fibre. I’m not upset about it. What do you think happened?”
“Well, I guess I don’t really know. You were in there with her for a few hours, and then she left. She called Hunter on her way out and said she couldn’t help you.”
“She couldn’t help me because I’m a Communicator and she has no way to figure out what I’m talking to, I guess. Her ability only goes as far as identifying that I am communicating with something external.”
“…Oh. Machines?”
“No idea. Maybe.”
Fibre blew out a long breath, looking away before turning back at me. “And how are you handling it?”
“It is what it is, I guess. I’d like to talk to Hunter after I shower. You know where he’ll be?”
“Actually, he said earlier he was going to come and join everyone for dinner. I’m not sure where he is now. I could call him?”
“That’s alright. Oh! Hey, do you know where Hilly, I mean, Hiltrude is?”
Fibre coughed, seeming somewhat nervous. “She, uh… She’s in sick bay.”
“Really? Wow, I don’t think she ever used to get sick when we were kids.”
“Yea, she doesn’t have a fever or anything. Just a broken wrist, and a broken ankle, and I think a few cracked ribs. Also, I think she was a little concussed.”
“What?!”
“Sparring got a little too intense, I guess. You should go see her, I’m sure she’d appreciate the gesture.”
“
Definitely. Alright, see you later.”
I walked briskly to my room, having caught my breath while talking with Fibre. The same recruits who had been wrestling in the hallway the day before were standing and leaning against the wall. One of them, Qek, who was huge by anyone’s standards, seemed like he was trying to avoid my gaze as I walked by, and actively turned away. Qek is a Strongman, so his size isn’t only for show. He’s not as strong as a lot of others, but he can still pull a stop sign from the concrete and use it as a club.
Once in my room, I did my best to slide out of my clothes, which were still clinging to me awkwardly, and washed up as quickly as possible. The moment the water started running and I grabbed my towel, a wave of mildew fumes crashed against my nostrils, reminding me why I need to clean my shower even if I didn’t like to do it. I had only used the towel for the first time that morning, but even that had started to stink. The black spots were growing again in the corners of the shower as well, ultimately signaling that before I went to bed, I’d need to scrub everything. I’ll never understand how showers become riddled with mildew so quickly.
With no time to waste, I was thankful that the laundry had come in and I had fresh clothes to change into. I put on my favorite sweatshirt and sweatpants, which looked just like every other pair but fit somewhat differently, and stepped back out of my room. Some of the recruits were still in the hallway, one of them talking about the girl who’d given the presentation from earlier. I guess he knew her before she was a Cape, but then I noticed that Qek wasn’t with them. I made a note to myself to ask him what his deal was, and quickly walked over to the area of the academy where I’d find Hilly.
Hilly’s parents had taught her to speak their native language before they died, though from what I understood when we were kids, she was hardly fluent. She knew a lot of the angry words, though, and they had a tendency to pour from her mouth when they fit her mood. The moment I turned the corner towards the sick bay, I could hear a mountain of angry German expletives bouncing off the walls. I didn’t even have to try and figure out what room she was in, I just followed the cursing, which sounds so much angrier in German than in other languages.
When I entered the room, I saw she was walking on a treadmill, a big bowl of oatmeal in her hands. She took a pause from eating every time she stepped on her right foot, cursing as she did so. Her body needed huge amounts of calories, like any Fast One, but her ankle must have broken pretty badly for it still to hurt. I guessed that the walking was physical therapy.
“Hey, how you feelin’?” I asked as I walked in.
Hiltrude turned to me, and with oatmeal still in her mouth remarked, “It is very painful.”
“What happened?”
“That imbecile, that oaf, der dumkawpf, hit me full strength. He was lucky I was holding back in the first place.” She took another bite. “We were supposed to be sparring, not fighting. What are you doing here?” I thought about the word she used, oaf, and it was easy enough to figure out who she was referring to. Hilly is like other Fast Ones and has what seems to be an instinctual disdain for Strongmen. She calls them oafs even when she isn’t angry. Qek was the only Strongman at the academy.
“I came to check on you. Are you saying that Qek did this?”
“Of course it was Qek. Strongmen are all the same, you know?” More oatmeal. She was taking a huge spoonful each time and somehow still talking around the food in her mouth. If I didn’t know she could nearly break the sound barrier, I might have thought eating with her mouth full was her power. “Der dumkawpf,” she finished.
“Well, I think he feels bad, if that helps? I saw him on my way here, and he was acting weird. Now I know why.”
Hilly scraped her spoon on the bowl and grabbed a nearby bag of nuts, pouring some in and mixing them with the little oatmeal that was left. She shook her head as the food crunched in her mouth, and she began talking again around the bite she’d taken.
“I’m going to get him back. They’re going to send me to see the shrink, and whoever I see is going to try to talk me out of it, but I won’t let them. He’s going to get what’s coming to him.” Hilly’s expression grew serious.
“Ah… uh, alright. So, can I… I don’t know, can I do anything for you?”
“What could you possibly do for me right now, Ivy?”
“I don’t know. I mean, do you need anything?”
“Just to punch that big idiot in the face.”
“Look, Hilly, relax-”
“You relax! You’re just like the rest of them. Just another idiot. Dumkawpf.”
“What’s your problem? People get hurt, Hilly, that’s why there’s a sick bay. So you got tagged. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I don’t get tagged. I don’t get hit. This doesn’t happen to me.”
She is really angry. We think you should just leave her alone.
I want to help her, though. Let me just-
“Stop it, Ivy. You’re doing that thing, aren’t you? Talking to them?”
“How did you know?”
“I could tell. You still get that stupid look on your face. You haven’t changed at all. You’re never present. Always lost in your head all the time. So your dad died, Ivy. Big deal! It happens to lots of people. Get over it or just die yourself already.”
Hilly turned away from me to grab more nuts from the bag. She put down the bowl and shoveled the food into her mouth by the handful. I didn’t really know what to say to her at that moment. The voices were right–she was obviously angry. And even though we hadn’t gone back to being friends since meeting each other again, she had never said anything like that before. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she didn’t mean it. But that didn’t make it hurt my feelings any less. I didn’t even say anything back, I just stood there for a moment.
Then I left.
The confrontation with Hilly, if that’s what it could be called, had me a bit shaken, but mostly just confused. I’d gone to check on her and she’d acted… I don’t know…
Crazy.
I didn’t need to put up with that, I had my own problems to deal with. I ran into one of the other Senior Capes on my way out of the sick bay, and asked her where Hunter was. She said he was overseeing some sparring outside the south wing. It didn’t take long to walk there, but I managed to calm down quite a bit on my way. I figured that if there were mandated sparring outside that part of the academy, it was probably in one of the soft-sand pits. The soft-sand pits were what they sounded like, filled with sand that was much softer than anything I’d ever walked on. Twice a week, obstacle courses were set up around the academy and a big climbing wall was placed in the middle of one of the sand pits. I fell my first time going up, one of the handholds slippery with the previous recruit’s sweat, and expected I’d hit the ground hard, but the sand made for a great landing pad. Most of the physical self-defense moves taught at the academy were heavily inspired by JudoShido, so they incorporated a lot of using your own body weight as leverage to throw your opponent. That was what led to so many of the recruits wrestling all the time, a sentiment I could most certainly relate to, though I’d gotten a lot of the urge to randomly grapple out of me long before coming to the academy. The JudoShido was another reason I figured any mandated sparring outside the south wing was likely to take place in the soft-sand pit.
In a pit when I showed up were Qek and Tristan. Qek was probably the only recruit at the academy immune to any of the maneuvers we’d been taught. As a Strongman, he could take a hit from a bulldozer if he shifted his weight the right way first. Tristan was a good sparring partner for him, though. He was a Tinkerer–someone whose Ch05En gene had made him good at building gadgets. The way I understand it, Tinkerers normally have a sort of specialty. Some people build small weapons, while others build large machines. Tristan was good at creating suits. In his downtime at the academy, he’d managed to construct five working exo-skeletons. He took one of them on the last obstacle course we’d had to run and jumped over the
climbing wall completely. A bulldozer might not move Qek, but someone in one of Tristan’s power suits probably could, with enough JudoShido in their arsenal. Tristan and I had spent some time together here and there, after I’d decided that Hilly and I being close again wasn’t going to happen. There was an evening where we’d both gone to work with the speed bag, and I’d ended up stopping to watch Tristan for a few minutes as he got into a crazy rhythm, working his fists in multiple directions, and including his elbows into his routine as the bag bounced back and forth. I had wanted him to show me how to do what he did, figured I’d wait around to ask him and then promptly never talk to him again, but it turned out we had a similar sense of humor. He ended up being particularly fun to hang out with when I didn’t feel like reading.
Hunter was pacing back and forth at the edge of the soft-sand pit as he watched Qek and Tristan work to land a hit on one another, While he walked, he stepped gingerly around some of the puddles that had accumulated after a recent rain. The whole field was still wet outside of the soft-sand, which had somehow managed to dry itself; ’d had to jump over a large puddle myself already.
While not preternaturally fast in any way, Qek knew how to move his large frame effectively, and had come into the academy with a little boxing training. He ducked and bobbed and danced around the sand as Tristan’s over-sized metal fists tried to strike him somewhere on his gigantic jaw. The two of them had already gotten into a rhythm before I’d arrived, seemingly satisfied with running through the drills we’d been taught, which of course they’d both practiced being on either end of. Each time one of them threw a jab, the other knew what the following two strikes coming directly behind it were going to be. I watched Qek land a soft blow against Tristan’s armored cheek that would have sent a normal man flying, but Tristan simply turned with the punch and came back with his own combination. More than once I looked from the fighters and back to Hunter, who had dressed up to oversee the training in his old Cape uniform, minus the mask, looking more like someone who was ready to be tapped in to take the place of the fighters rather than their instructor. After a few more unsuccessful exchanges, I noticed that Qek was starting to get tired. Hunter seemed like he noticed as well, and stopped pacing. Qek started taking larger and larger breaths, obviously needing a break, and was finally tagged with a direct hit from Tristan. The blow was loud, and sounded what I imagined it would sound like if Tristan had punched a school bus with his armored fist.
Ivy Page 8
