"Once again, Alexander." A middle aged man said to the young boy who was in a fighting stance in front of him.
The boy instantly rushed forward trying to strike the man with his fist, however, like many times before, as he struck with his fist out, the middle aged man would casually divert his arm with a stick and then strike with it somewhere Alexander did not expect.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed each time this happened but still continued on for another round until finally after three hours they had finished their training session.
"I can't believe I lost every single time." Alexander groaned rubbing at his sore arms from all that striking practice. "Not terrible." The middle-aged man nodded toward Alexander and turned around walking inside the house.
"You are getting better though; you just have to be more careful about your movements when attacking someone so much larger than yourself."
"It is the 22nd century, dad! Who even cares about martial arts nowadays?" Alexander followed the man inside.
They were living in one of those old hand-built houses that still existed on the surface level of the planet.
It wasn't particularly large or luxurious by any means—it was only two bedrooms big enough to fit them both comfortably along with some storage space for clothes and other belongings, plus there was also an attached garage where they kept their car.
Most people didn't use cars anymore because of how dangerous driving became ever since governmental focus shifted towards the "Second Surface" - chains of floating islands reserved for the upper echelons of humanity.
Most of the resources went into maintaining and improving those, while surface level facilities - other than those which had important strategic status, were somewhat neglected.
Local self-governance authorities were given the task to maintain everything else. So unless it was a national level highway, the maintenance funds were probably already stolen by some corrupt low-level politician.
"You will understand with time." Alexander's father said as he brewed tea. "Now, however, it is time for your meditation."
Alexander rolled his eyes but knew better than argue with his dad now. Meditation? What kind of nonsense is that supposed to mean anyway?!
But knowing what would happen if he refused meant he wouldn't dare do anything against his wishes. Of course, he tried before.
But his father being a magnitudes better martial artist easily threw him into a locked room and told him to stay there for two hours and meditate.
At first, Alexander would do anything but that. He would sing, swear, scream, but in the end, he still had to spend those two hours inside. The only things in the room were a meditation manual inscribed on the wall and a sitting mat along with a bottle of water.
With time, Alexander resigned to his fate and started to read and follow the manual on the wall. And eventually, he learned to somewhat enjoy it. After all, no matter how annoying the situation might be, he always felt refreshed afterwards.
That made up for the pain he got from training earlier. Moreover, after months of meditation he could feel his mind becoming clearer and his senses sharper. This allowed him to learn faster during school sessions too.
They sat down together drinking tea in silence for several minutes until Alexander spoke up.
"Dad... why am I doing all these weird stuff? I never heard others parents making their kids do this. Alright, I understand the benefits of meditation, but martial arts? Any cheap personal defense system is way more efficient!"
His father chuckled softly. "That may be true, son. However..." He paused briefly to sip his tea. "...the reason we make our children go through such hardships is because we want them to become strong. And you will thank me later, believe me."
Alexander wanted to retort, but it seemed like his father had a strange expression as he spoke this last sentence.
"...but right now, you need to meditate." His father stood up.
"Alright, alright." Alexander sighed, walking off to meditation room.
He took a seat on the meditation mat, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts flow freely. For the next couple of hours he focused solely on breathing deeply, allowing his consciousness to enter the weird state where he felt like he was floating right over his body.
Finally, when his mind began to wander, he opened his eyes and stretched himself. As usual, he found his father waiting outside the door.
"So, how'd it go today?" He asked his son.
"Well..." Alexander replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "The same thing happens every day, really."
"What do you mean?" His father raised an eyebrow curiously. "Didn't you manage to get past the point where your consciousness expands?"
"I guess." Alexander admitted. "But honestly, I don't know if expanding my consciousness actually has any meaning in real life situations."
"Hmm..." His father pondered aloud. "Perhaps it does not. Then again, perhaps it does. You see, the main goal behind all forms of meditation is to reach enlightenment. In order to achieve that, one needs to expand one's consciousness beyond its normal limits."
"Uh huh, yeah sure, whatever." Alexander scoffed dismissively.
"Look," His father said sternly, "you're going to find out sooner or later whether or not this 'enlightenment' is something useful or not. And then you will thank me. Anyways, it's time to eat."
This was one more reason why Alexander went along with meditation. Because each time he meditated diligently, his father would prepare a delicious meal for them both. Not to mention delicious, it was exquisite.
Alexander once got to go to an upscale restaurant when one of his classmates threw a birthday party. Food there was amazing, but dishes prepared by his father were simply on another level. Restaurant food didn't even come close. He suspected that the reason was the ingredients.
His father had a small garden in the backyard. Originally, Alexander was forbidden to enter, but that only made his curiosity rise. What could his father be hiding?
But when he snuck in one time, he disturbed the environment carefully arranged by his father and caused half of the vegetables to wilt.
This was one of the few times he saw his father angry, as the man always kept himself calm and collected. Alexander ended up working in the vegetable garden for two months straight as a punishment.
Of course, the punishment also included not eating super tasty meals and eating something prepared with store bought ingredients instead. As a result, he never ever disturbed the garden again.
After dinner, he helped his father clean the kitchen. Once everything was cleaned, Alexander turned around to walk to his bedroom, but he was interrupted by his father's voice.
"Aren't you forgetting something, son?"
Alexander could only turn around with a light expression of dread on his face.