The next set of tests was boring compared to the ones I had just done. They had me do a vision test like one they would have you do at a doctor's office, and one where they had me click a button once a circle of a certain color told me to appear. They did a hearing test where I was to raise my hand whenever I heard a beep and then made me repeat words randomly interspersed in the beeps.
After that they had me do a, 'find the difference,' game. I had pointed out all 50 or so differences listed in less than ten minutes. I had always had a good eye for detail. Jack joined while I was in here, and handed the paper to one of the proctors who looked after it and took him to the sight chart.
After that they had me do a reading test and asked me questions about what I had just read, I thought I did well. They then had me locate misspelled words in various sentences and then had me imagine how certain turning cogs, would affect other turning cogs. That was difficult. The last, 'test,' they had me do was a math test consisting of twenty addition problems, twenty subtraction, division, multiplication, fractions, algebra...with the simple instruction of tapping out whenever it felt too difficult. I didn't make it halfway through fractions.
The very last thing they had me do was sit in a dark, quiet room; perfectly still, for as long as I could. If I moved above a certain amount, they said, the lights would turn off and the test would be over. It lasted less than a minute before the black room was flooded with white light.
"That'll be all the tests, thank you."
I wasn't even allowed to look at my end results, but I feel like I did pretty well, for a man of my size.
Pathetic. What is up with your body?
The voice speaks up again.
"What do you mean?"
You're weak in almost all regards. How are you planning on surviving?
"I'll survive," I answered steadfastly.
There was no doubt in my mind. All of my 23 years, I had survived up until that point. I had survived homelessness, prison, and school. What would a small foray into a warzone do to me? Nothing. I'd just keep my head down, wait out my term, and then be back in Porterville to rub my wealth in my family's face while getting stoned out of my gourd. That's all there was to it. Voice in my head or not.
Weak. Pathetic.
The voice continued. I slammed the palm of my hand into my head.
"Shut up."
No. You are weak. You need to get stronger, and that's a fact. Once we are in this, 'land beyond,' I will make you strong. Stronger than anyone or anything around you.
"I don't want to be strong. I'll just keep my head down and finish out my contract."
You must be strong, or you will die. Solely from my anima.
"Yeah, I don't believe that for a second."
Believe it or not, it matters not.
The voice fell quiet, and I made my way to the cafeteria. A few other people meandered about: one of the soldiers that I had seen before, dressed now in a sweat suit, and a couple of women sitting next to him. They snicker as I pass by, and I hold my tongue. If I got violent now, surely only a bullet would await, I think as I glance at the armed man standing by the door to the cafeteria.
They were serving sandwiches that day; of the build-your-own kind variety. I got ham, cucumber, jalapeno, and sriracha on wheat bread for mine, and sat across the room from the trio.
"How do I do that telekinesis thing?"
If I do it again right now, with how low your anima reserves are, it will take six months off of your already shortened life, are you certain you want to do that?
"Guess not."
When you're ready to, I will show you how.
"What's your name?"
My name? I was not given a name. I am an offspring of Fafnir.
I have no clue what that entails.
"Should I give you a name?"
You are not able to. It will kill you.
"Fine."
I take a bite of the sandwich.
"Is that any good?"
It's okay.
It had been millennia since I last ate something...
"I don't know what to say."
There is nothing to say. I was just stating a fact.
"... right."
Jack comes into the cafeteria when I'm halfway finished with my meal; ignoring the small comments made here and there by the voice in my head. After he came to sit with me; still panting all the while.
"That was hard." He said.
Who's this?
"How'd you do, Jack?"
Jack, huh?
"I don't know." He answered honestly. "I think I did okay on some of the stuff."
"How much did you lift?"
I took another bite of my sandwich while he took a small nibble out of his.
"185 on the bench, 60 pounds on the curling machine, only managed to hold myself up to 120 pounds dropped on the bar thing, and 150 on the deadlift machine."
I nearly choked on my sandwich.
"How about everything else?"
"The running and swimming portions were hard: never really run before in my life. Managed to jump two inches, and one and a half feet. Did manage to balance across the beam, though that took me a little over a minute to do."
"Really?"
He did better on a lot more than I thought.
"How about the guns?"
"Oh, my parents owned plenty. Went hunting all the time with my dad back in High school. Hit nearly every shot."
Damn.
He is in better shape than you in a lot of ways.
Damn.
"How about the others?"
"Oh. The questions were easy. I think I did a decent job."
Damn.
You probably looked down on him, didn't you? I would much rather have him as a vessel.
Damn.
"So did you have a girl back home?" I asked.
It was his turn to nearly choke on his meal.
"No. No no. I mean, look at me? What kind of woman would want someone like me."
"So you're a virgin?"
His cheeks turned bright red, and he looked down at his sandwich. At least I had him beat on one thing.
Pathetic.
We exchange a few words while I finish up my sandwich and get out of there. When I leave the cafeteria a man stops me as I head to the room.
"Alright Mr. Kyle, you're all ready for onboarding. Everything, on your end is done."
"So what? Can I go now?"
"No no. We'll send you all at once, all I'm saying is that from here on what you do is up to you. We have a library if you want to read, a gym if you want to work out, and a shooting range if you want to shoot. Otherwise, you're free to watch television in the staff room, or really, whatever you want. Come Saturday evening you'll be given a uniform to change into, and we'll be shipping you off to the Lands Beyond."
"What day is it now?"
"Wednesday. June 21st ."
"So I can do anything?"
"You can. For now, everything is free of charge."
I walked away, as happy as a clam.
It didn't take long for me to find out what I wanted to do with the time I had left. After being homeless for so long, I decided to enjoy my time indoors, and that's just what I do. I spend most of the time lounging around in the staff room; watching television. Showering every night so my scalp no longer itched, and eating every single day until I couldn't feel my bones when I poked my side. Most of the formally homeless people seemed to do the same.
Most people woke up on Thursday. Daniel got his results back, and we hung out a couple of times in between his gym sessions, and his time in the ring. Jack mostly read.
Most of the books in the library were fantasy, mythology, and the like. However, there were other books that seemed out of place: mineral identification books, basics of jewelry crafting, rock-hounding handbooks, bird identification pamphlets, books on fishing, and other equally odd additions to a base's library. Nothing that I wanted to read, however, as sitting down to read was never really my strong suit. Jack, however, read three books from Wednesday to late Friday: a botany pamphlet, a short story about some guy flying over Antarctica after WW2, and a fairy tale book.
Most people avoided me or just nodded courteously when passing by with their noses upturned as if they were better than me. I got along with some of the other ex-homeless, and we would hang out in the cafeteria, the bunk area, or the longue.
Friday evening, Eli; a homeless man from Seattle who I had been hanging out with, was watching some movie or another. Eli was a rougher sort. One of those tramps that trainhopped, and made his living as a nomad. The last of the hobos, as he called himself. Heroin was his demon of choice. We swapped stories of our best highs, and our favorite spots to do it. His black hair held a permeant aura of dust, and his long, curly beard looked as if it must itch all of the time.
"I once shot up on a boat right below Niagara." He had told me in the cafeteria while pushing a piece of a pizza into his bearded mouth, "Water roaring all loud and shit, and the rush...man it was insane. It was like I was talkin' with GOD."
The closest thing I could compare it to was shooting up underneath a train bridge with a train rattling over it.
"I need to take a piss," he said as he pushed himself off the reclining chair he was seated at.
I was sitting in the middle of a three-seater when a small woman came into the staff lounge, holding a book clutched close to the too-big gray sweatshirt she wore. She had light blonde hair that bordered on the boundaries of white and that she wore pulled back into a ponytail, and I swear, her blue eyes contained the slightest hint of purple in their glow. Otherworldly, was the only thought that came through my mind the moment I saw her. She glanced down the hall on either side, before letting the door shut quietly behind her before approaching the couch and turning toward me. The scent of lavender wafted off of her.
"I noticed you've been mostly relaxing during this time." She said.
By her stature and by the tone of her voice, I recognized her at once as the short proctor by the punching machine.
"Yeah, so?" I say somewhat defensively. "I was homeless, cut me some slack."
"Well.." She glanced at the door before pushing the book she carried toward me. "I think you should read this. "
"Trap Making Basics." The cover read as I took it from her hands.
"Why?"
"I can't say, but I really think you should read this."
"I don't understand."
She sighed.
"Read. It. You'll thank me later. "
She left the book on my lap and hurried out of the room. Maybe she left a note or something in there for me? That's the only thing I think as I flip through the pages.
"Really? Why when I'll have a gun."
Ignorant.
Colorful diagrams of a variety of traps cover these pages. Snares, punji pits, boar traps, pitfalls, and many others. I found it interesting enough to read through.
"Dude, Lyle, you alright man?" Eli snapped his fingers in front of my face three times.
I snapped out of whatever trance had held me.
"Y-yeah, why?"
"You was just staring at the book for like an hour, man. The movie's over."
"Shit, really? Damn."
"Want to watch it again?"
"No...I'm suddenly really, really tired. I'm going to hit the hay."
"See ya tomorrow, bud. "
"Yeah, same..."
I staggered out of the lounge room and to the bunks; nodding my acknowledgment to Jack as I passed him by the hall in front of the cafeteria. I climbed into bed and quickly buried myself in the blankets and fell asleep.