Thousands of intelligent life usually don't have their physical assessment off the roof, but they can do language, if they can do language, they can do myth, if they can do myth, they can conquer the world.
It took 12,000 years and another couple of days for you to realize that everything is in English, the speech of globalization, the universal language. That sign on the street and those little teensy weensy mockery that Lues and Chronos throw at each other, is actually a goddamn English sentence! It was a blessing that you, as a complementary byproduct from two unknown entities, can understand the speech that means, "Please go naked right now."
"D-do I need to be naked?" you ask, shuddered by the uncomfortable thought of going into the room with multiple cameras butt-naked.
Facing you, an Aekha in light-blue officer's uniform and an intricate lab coat is currently putting on a hard-to-trust expression as she squints till the edges bend because of her wide devilish smile. "For maximizing data gathering, I would highly recommend you to have no obstruction in-between the nature of the course and your beautiful pale skin~"
'Why do I feel like they don't see me as a mighty Primordial!?''
You're wondering why do most of the people here in the future mostly exude a shrewd and scary expression, if it was a coping mechanism for those with inner confidence due to the lack of unsated sadistically predatory behavior, then you might as well join the parade to be an insane person.
Truly, people have thousands of belongings in their life, it was all because they believe in the myth called money. 'If you give me this thingy and the numbery-wumber is right, then I shall give you this promised object', and the myth works because most of us agree to play by the rule. It works in many ways: friendships, schools, communities, nations. It's not that these things are lies, it's just that they're an abstraction that only lives in our head, and this is all possible because we have language.
The very same language that suggests you to strip buttnaked and go into the chamber with many cameras ogling at their visionary target like it was amusing.
With nothing to counter those data-freak mad scientists. You slowly shed your gothic lolita cocoon to reveal your exotic exterior with no obstruction left to protect you. Though there are no anti-cloaking circuits around so you can still hide the veins-like blood pattern on all of your body that moves you like a precise marionette.
'Just because I'm a primordial, they thought that I'm more than thousands years old in this young underaged body!'
Then again, you're not an underage inside so does it count as a crime for an adult stranger to infiltrate someone's body that is still developing? Does it count as harassment to the old body's owner the moment you take the cockpit out from its former pilot?
With numerous stupendous thoughts flying inside your tiny brain, you pass through the airlock door and arrive in the middle of a circular chamber large enough to fit an elephant inside. The door blends with the surrounding so well that you might forget where it was if you scan after spinning around while closing your eyes.
Beepings of warning ensues not long after you're inside. The walls, floor, and ceiling begin to change into a holographic environment as if you're teleported into another place.
The first is a desert, hot sands scorching your feet, an immediate sunburn from the clear sky boils your blood with extreme heat. Without any pause, your athenaeum's worker stabilizes your heat management and skin regeneration to reach the exact point where you feel nothing at all. It should be leaving you with some cents of sensation but your chronic quadriplegia might already reach the phase where it numbs half of your sensory touch on your skin.
You can hear a speech bouncing into the simulation chamber.
"Miss Pitka, can you perform constant movement?"
"Uhm, sure, why not?"
You couldn't care less at this point.
With no idea left of what you should be doing, you begin the stretching exercise that people usually do in the morning. What is the current time now? You wonder. It will probably be noon by now. Relinquishing the emptiness, you strive forward to the overlooked mystery in your entire adventure.
"Why English?" As far as you know, humanity survived the judgement day by preparing an underground bunker for a couple of millennia below the surface and stalking the butt of an absolute monstrosity. The moment you come to this timeline, you're also greeted by words from the English dictionary. Seriously, it is extremely baffling that the language of tea-wanker-colonial version 2.0 has made an eternal engraving on intelligent life till this very day. Is there really some unknown factor to it that makes the civilization resets their entire development where numerous wars against the Angel and Calamities peaked to the solid equilibrium where nothing changes for many thousands of years?
The field you currently step on changes into that of the North Pole, if it still exists. Because you're sure as hell that global warming would've already turned the ice into saltwater within the 12,000 years earth developed into the present. Then again, it would only happen if the carbon inside the earth's atmosphere was constantly stagnating or rising, you haven't known yet if the Calamity even breathed oxygen to begin with.
Feeling empty, your feet are supposed to be stinging from the constant contact with the solid frozen water. The Chrolings and Lueling do their job well, allowing your legs to stretch unrestricted while you wear a fully unamused deadpan.
"Can you do some poses?" asks the thirsty voice outside of this chamber through some invisible speakers.
"No."
It goes on and on and escalates from a rainy place to hellfire, a radioactive hellscape to a mind-bending landscape, deafening screams on the streetscape to the absolute silence that makes the ears deafen from the inaudible scrape, until an uncomfortable place where you want to escape.
Your mana sea's workers report many intruders trying to attack your soul and athenaeum on the last course. But be worry not as those pesky tea-wanker-colonial wannabes are not any more stronger than your cute chibis workling.
The Resilience Test ends there, they give you back your gothic lolita dress with a satisfied smile. Probably with some pictures of naked you in their computer's hard drive.