Rain Harlow
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Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 15:00:41 +0000 UTCChapter 32: Better Than Before
Lindsay/Jill called for the end of simulation training in the Demonstration Center, and they returned to the real world for more tangible practice. It left Jack burningly eager to get to the stage where he could do the things she’d been showing him he was capable of, virtually, translated also into the real world. So they worked at getting there.
It was frustrating. He was still unable to form solid shapes with his powers. He could at least make the discernible shape of condensed cords within his cloud of memorite, and maneuver the entire zone with ease. As such, Lindsay helped him train ‘hitting’ her with the weak mass as she moved around and dodged the faux strikes of corded outlines, making something of a contest out of what they had to work with. At first, it didn’t feel particularly satisfying, but Lindsay egged on his competitive spirit through her taunts. He ceased thinking about the actual limitations and just became determined to beat her cocky ass.
He eventually got good enough to outmaneuver her within the cloud, in much the same method as he’d succeeded virtually: coming from more angles than a limited meatsack could handle.
“Ha - get corded!” Jack exclaimed emphatically after his third ‘win’ in a row. “Who’s laughing now, Lindsay? Huh?!”
Lindsay, hands on her hips and breathing heavily, shrugged. “You are, hotshot. Well done. But even sweating and my hair probably the worst mess, I’m still the cutest. Or would you deny it?”
Jack blinked at her and slowly lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mistress of Cute.”
She nodded in faux seriousness, then smirked and relaxed her stance. “Take a break. I need to check my messages and stuff. Afterwards, we’ll kick it up a notch, hmm? Since you’re so confident.”
“I dunno, what does that mean?”
Lindsay was already turning away while looking at her phone. “You’ll see…”
After a brief break for rest and hydration, Lindsay pulled a long, wooden pole out from among the tools and weapons available and stepped back into the field of combat, stating, “Let’s go again — If I block a cord strike, it doesn’t count.”
“Like I wouldn’t be able to deal with a stick?” Jack asked incredulously.
“Like you wouldn’t face super speed, super agility, or some other crap instead of a weak girl with a stick?”
“Touché.”
The training became significantly more difficult as Lindsay used her defensive tool to great effectiveness, spinning it around while moving and constantly blocking his mass of cords. He adapted to the restrictions by making more and focusing less on accuracy, so much as mass synchronized attacks. It wasn’t easy by any means, but he began scoring hits. Very satisfying.
For her next trick, Lindsay began closing the distance and attacking him with the staff. It swiftly became a massacre. Thwack! Thwack, thwack!
After a dozen sessions of getting his forcefield rang by the swift swings of a wooden pole (and twice by a sudden expert kick to the head), Jack collapsed in the dirt, breathing heavily once more. Fatigue Status: Serious-Unstable. “Uncle!” he called as he retracted the memorite back into him. “I’m fraggin' spent. How are you so much faster on the attack?!”
Lindsay had at least worked up some serious sweat and was panting, with her previously well-ordered hair escaping in every direction. She grinned in satisfaction and shook her head. “I’m not. That’s just the nature of the difference between target practice and combat, bucko. Your mind has to deal with a vastly different level of chaotic variables. You also expended yourself more quickly, hmm? Instinctively pushing more into what you were doing. Useless right now, but the sort of shit that saves your ass in actual battle.”
Jack just nodded thoughtfully and sucked in breath, now completely drenched in his own sweat. He had been drained in the last hour more than in his entire weight-lifting session. By far.
A chime from Mini sounded in his head.
New Technique gained! Control: Cord 0.1 has been added to your stat bio.
“Hrah!” Jack exclaimed excitedly and met Lindsay’s eyes immediately to declare, “Training gave me Cord Control!”
Lindsay’s eyes widened. She beamed and hopped in equal excitement to Jack. “Yay! Great job, Jack! Haha!”
“Yeah! Haha! Hell yeah.” He did a fist pump. He couldn’t deny that it felt really good.
“You know, that’s really great so quickly, Jack. And, just to remind you, but you weren’t given the Technique — you earned it. You are simply better at it than before, as assessed by your Mini-Mem, Memoria, and the System itself.”
“Right, right. Understood. Actually, you’re half of why, eh? You said I’d be better at this type of formation.”
“Yes, you are. Every reason to specialize, though you won’t rely exclusively on such things. So, good news and bad news? Good news, you’ll raise that again pretty quickly. Bad news, you’ll be lucky to rank it much more before you can form the actual structures. Just how it is with the limits of virtual understanding versus literally doing things. A good start, though.”
“That’s perfectly logical, yeah. So, maybe tell me what it means? To have a Technique total over and above — this applies to Control, right, and some kind of comparison if someone is trying to dodge and such?”
“That’s right, yes. That final statistical calculation is called Evasion and develops on a mediocre basis from our baseline interface improvements, levels, training, physique, and so on. Augment can improve it from some powers, or it can be simulated or enhanced by Control in logical scenarios. An Air Controller, for example, could utilize gusts to assist movement, or even gain a Secondary Mutation, giving them passive use. You could perform a parry-like effect from interjected objects that functions pretty much the same way, but it all depends on the attack. If it incinerates or bypasses metal, you haven’t evaded anything.”
“What are the comparisons like? What do they mean? I already get that they aren’t the end-all, be-all.”
“Nope, they aren’t. We don’t measure the reality with complete perfection, just within ballparks. When it comes to, um… actual competition? That is, our monstrous enemies out there? There can be errors in assessment, too. The information isn’t provided by default, if you get my drift. We have to deduce. Now, our System can adjust to that deduction on the fly and reassess with new values. But, anyway, if you’re outclassed significantly, you should strongly consider not risking it.
“Values that boil down to final comparisons are always percentage-based in comparison. Two versus One is 100% better. Now, someone at One probably can squeeze value to close the distance from any number of things. But if it comes down to that comparison, ‘Loser One’ is screwed. Ten versus Eleven is anybody’s call and can swing with circumstance, but Eleven technically has the edge. Ten versus Twenty, you have not only doubled the value, but very little possibility for ten to swing far enough, even with circumstances. Twenty is an overwhelming favorite to annihilate Ten.”
“When we were play-fighting, what were the numbers?”
“Now that’s a good question, Jack! My Evasion is a respectable” — she did a fake cough into her hand, making the statement ironic — “Four-point-seven. Here in meat reality, anyway. Meanwhile, your base Control is Two. You are fragged if you’re trying to smack me straight up. Instead, you stacked the deck, multitasking with multiple cords swerving around on my flanks and muddying the waters. I let you hyperfocus by doing nothing but dodging, playing into your hand, and you leveraged those advantages and applied disadvantages to overwhelm me. Naturally, when I started leveraging both my Evasion and my skill with the staff in unison, you were outmatched.”
Jack nodded slowly as he absorbed it all. “Numbers backing human perception. I thought of you as ‘fast’ because you’re outclassing me so badly right now. That’s similar to the stat reality.”
“Only for now. My mere meat body aptitude is like a minnow to the fully grown shark of Jack at operational status.”
“Something tells me you have things up your sleeve if actually fighting fair, even here.”
Lindsay grinned big. “That’s for me to know and you to maybe frag around and find out.”
Jack chuckled. “So the percentage comparison… it’s the same for Magnitude as well? Strength versus strength.”
“Yep. But in that case, the numbers are way higher. The strength to pick up vehicles, the intensity to blow them up. Definitely not something an Acrobat ever wants to compare with a Bruiser. Or you, while utilizing just your meager baselines as a soft target. If you don’t interject your power somehow, you’re in trouble. But it is much easier for you to create a barrier and try to resist a powerful attack head-on than to evade or parry. Something has to take the strain, right? Either you skillfully redirect or your material has to absorb it and rely on its strength — combined with your ability to reinforce it.”
“And my effort in the equation can still swing things higher or lower?”
“To a degree, yes. Same as with Control. We generally see swings capable of ten to thirty percent in either direction in the normal flow of combat. Going all-out at one hundred percent all the time isn’t feasible, on top of it. But just like I can’t punch down a brick wall with my bare fists, there’s a limit to how much you can overcome. Pushing things also tends to cost you.”
“Mmn…”
Lindsay, still standing, stepped up closer and offered her hand. “Enough shop talk. Let’s get showers and go eat, hmm? For dessert, gourmet tiramisu! You’re buying.”
Jack winced as he took her hand and rose. “Yeah, yeah…”
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
They met back up for another variety assortment of meals at the mess hall, picking a random table amid the mass of open selections. Dinner time there was a lot less busy — fewer people around and a lot of the restaurants closed. Lindsay’s choices were fantastic as always. They shared from twenty different takeout boxes from four restaurants.
When they’d killed a frightening amount of it all and were some facsimile of full, it was time for dessert. As Jack tried to savor and not devour the rich, divine — overpriced — wedge of tiramisu, he commented, “I checked out your shrine, by the way.”
Lindsay briefly furrowed her brows in confusion, but quickly brightened. “My wall spot?! And Arcadia?! Awesome! So, what did you think?!”
Jack swirled the creamy goodness in his mouth for a bit before swallowing, while nodding slowly. “It’s an honor to be in the presence of the beautiful Miss Center.”
She chortled and her hand went to her mouth as she was also chewing her dessert. Her eyes slid to the side as she finally swallowed. She squinted her eyes in thought and shrugged. “From my perspective, that was a long time ago.”
Jack nodded, feeling some semblance of understanding. “Three years feels more like a decade ago. Anyway, you have quite a broad pedigree. Beauty, brains, and I’m guessing some martial arts championship for Nons?”
“Mmp!” Lindsay held a corrective finger out at him. “I was mediocre in almost all the tournaments, actually. My best was fourth, and even getting there was lucky from a disqualification. But I learned what actual talent looked like, and then how to bring it out and make it shine. It was indispensable for shaping who I’d be and adding dimensions of understanding to my powers. I became an instructor under Shifu Zhao, taking on more and more responsibilities. Sadly, my life only got busier with my career… so I had to let it go, painful though it was.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear that. Sounds like it was a special relationship.”
She nodded and focused on eating her dessert. “So did you touch the braille?”
“Huh? Oh, on the wall? No. Why would I? I can’t read it.”
She gave him a level look. “For curiosity.”
Jack blinked at this as he ate another bite. “I’ll… do it next time.”
A little grin began at the corner of Lindsay’s mouth, and she nodded, before eating the last piece of her tiramisu with a faint sigh.
Jack finished his off, too, and set down his fork. He grinned suddenly and asked, “So, should I call you Shifu Lindsay, then?”
Lindsay, also dropping her fork, leaned back and studied Jack while she dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Seems like an upgrade from ‘Taskmistress,’ so sure. Go for it.”
“Will you teach me to fight, Shifu?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing already?”
“You know what I mean.”
She blinked and glanced away briefly. As a whole, it was like she was considering it seriously, but hesitating. Finally, her lips twisted to the side, and she shrugged. “Let’s file it under ‘Maybe.’ It’s not something on the itinerary right now. These skills are best thought of as long-term investments. The classes are mandatory for Champions from a young age, with few exceptions. One of three schools of discipline. You’ll be much harder pressed catching up, and it isn’t required in your case, but if you want to invest, so be it. However, you’ll likely have to pay me, and my time is a severe premium, so you know.”
Jack laughed. “I see how it is.”
Lindsay put her elbow on the table to prop her chin in a hand and lean in, narrowing her eyes and wearing a smug expression. “Are you sure you’re not just infatuated and trying to monopolize me even after your training is over?”
Jack maintained his cool despite this challenge. He kept a grin on his face and shrugged. “It’s pragmatism, as I see it. No one else has the kind of specialty to teach me useful things in such a short time, and the more we train, the more you know about what I’m capable of. It’s a pretty logical conclusion, Lindsay.”
“Shifu Lindsay.”
“It’s a pretty logical conclusion, Shifu Lindsay.”
Her expression seemed ‘sympathetic’ as she shook her head. “Hopelessly, subconsciously infatuated, I see.” A long, dramatic sigh. “People just can’t help themselves. Why do I have to be so irresistibly cute? Damn. Tsk, tsk, tsk…”
Jack chuckled incredulously and shook his head in turn. “And insufferable, you mean? I’d also like to know.”
Lindsay slapped both hands on the table, meeting his eyes seriously with her brows raised. “I have to draw the line somewhere, Jack. I’m sorry.”
“Is that right? And… the line would be…?”
She pointed an imperious finger at him, expression oh so serious. “I. Cannot. Be…” She drew this moment of truth out, eyes widening, finger raising. “... your psychologist.” She swept both hands in a gesture of ‘cut and dry,’ her face stern. “It’s just not meant to be. I’m truly sorry, but we just can’t.”
Jack blinked slowly twice. “Uh-huh. Bummer.” Heavy sarcasm. “I was just going to ask. Now I’m super torn up.”
Lindsay threw her hands up helplessly. “I know, I know… just try not to be too sad about it. You’ll find someone else, I promise. It’s not you, it’s me. Really.” She rose, clasping her hands together and smiling sweetly. “Have a good night, Jack. See you tomorrow. I’ve got some work to finish up before I can pretend to relax at all, so I’m gonna jet.”
Jack, still grinning at her ‘performance’, nodded, then pointed to a disposable to-go box. “Don’t forget the snacks you set aside. See you.”
Lindsay looked down at the box and blinked. “And here I nearly forgot! Such an attentive disciple.” She picked up the box. “And be sure to eat the rest, Jack. Before you go to bed, alright? Overeating is normal eating for you — for a week at least.”
Instead of saluting, Jack did a little bow with his hands pressed together. “Yes, Shifu.”
Lindsay smiled pleasantly before turning and strolling off.
Jack was left to ponder his teacher’s capricious behavior. Was she making a point about something beyond simply teasing him? Other than her flat, initial point about her swamped schedule, he had no clue. It fell under his policy about women, though: don’t make stupid assumptions. Perhaps time would tell.
He made his way back to his room and opted to relax for a while. He checked in with Neex briefly. She’d had a ‘scintillating’ day discussing science, primarily biology, with a team of like minds eager to absorb from her. She was excited and looking forward to sharing more over what would likely be many days of such exchanges.
There were clear mental signs of her physically yawning during their encounter, so Jack let her go early and told her to get some rest, to which she readily agreed, saying, ‘The dark pool is calling my name.’ The cold water was like a warm bed to her, apparently.
He went on a late-night run in the park, as he’d promised himself. Endurance and speed tests. It was already noticeably harder to tire himself out with sprints, but he still managed it. Slower drains on endurance were more the immunity he’d been conferred, compared to the fast ones. Nonetheless, he recovered quickly, so he kept alternating between, based on his fatigue levels. Two hours well spent!
When he was entirely finished and plopping into a train seat, chugging water, he got the typical query about where to go. He almost said home, but stopped himself.
“Hey, Subway Car, can I see the open sky?” Jack called. “The real sky, I mean. Outside the tower.”
“Certainly, Mr. Laker,” the train chimed back. “This train can change tracks at this late hour, if you like. Would you prefer an observation deck or a floating barge?”
Jack didn’t respond immediately, blinking in surprise. “Are you serious? Just like that?”
“Of course. You’re a favored child of Memoria, Mr. Laker. You’re also not a prisoner here, though you are required to avoid places of high recognition potential in public.”
“Right. Floating barge, then.”
“Right away, sir!”
Momentarily, the levitation train went down the current corridor for a minute before turning down another, which Jack deduced to be heading ‘outward’ from the tower core. Eventually it was free-floating within a security containment zone no different than if he was in a customary levicar, and then passed beyond right out into open sky.
Waiting in the air was a small luxury vessel like a thin boat with railing around it, and a roof made of reinforced reeds. All wood on the outside. Very stylized. The train car slowed as it neared the barge and a ‘docking’ platform extended up to the exit door of the car, which promptly opened.
Jack stood and walked over slowly, shaking his head in wonder. Internally, he accused Mini: “Now this was a waste of processing power.”
“Yes,” Mini replied. “Which is entirely your fault. But also irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.”
“Feel free to return whenever you like,” the subway car chimed as Jack neared the exit. “This car will return to its normal operation once you’re clear. Enjoy the sky, Mr. Laker!”
Jack muttered his thanks as he made his way over the dock platform to the barge. The wind was strong and cool in the air of Antarctican twilight so high above the platforms. It felt good; felt especially fresh.
He walked over gorgeous wooden planks to the front of the barge and looked out over the railing. In the twilight, the sun still made a faint, reddish glow on the horizon. Below him, the city lights of New Babylon were far brighter. From the top of the tower, it was like looking at a big round plate. Brick and steel, garnished with greenery.
The most obvious divider was a glimmering ring just shy of 'in the middle of everything.' It was the reflection of water from the Gold Ring River. Making a ring around the great platform, it was there as a reserve and for recreational pastimes. He’d swam in it with his mother; fished in it with his father. Lost his first fishing pole to it, to some ‘beast’ within. Beast to a 6-year-old, that is. He’d cried, and his dad had tried his best to suppress his amusement and console him. Cherished memories.
It’s always right here. My city, my land, my home. My sky. I always wanted to be one who helped protect this. Let it continue to thrive. I believe in it. Believe in humanity, stars help me. We’re better than we once were, and, if not, we’ll get there, damn it.
He looked back out to the horizon, and imagined what was beyond it, beyond Antarctica, even. Australia and New Zealand. The tips of Africa and South America — or what once was, anyway. All ancient territories overrun with otherworldly invaders.
They want to destroy us. Take this land. I won’t let that happen. Kill or be killed, is it? So be it. I’ll do whatever is necessary.
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