I trailed after Selina into an empty classroom, clutching her folding chair in my hands. Our footsteps echoed through the deserted hallway, mixed with the rhythmic click of her heels. Once we stepped inside and the door shut behind us, the silence became almost absolute. It was a familiar, slightly forgotten feeling from school days: being alone with a teacher after class, with that awkward pause hanging in the air when you do not know where to put your hands or how to begin.
"So?" Selina settled into the massive chair behind the instructor's desk like she owned the place. "What'd you want to talk about? If you've got questions about the lecture, Tom, here's my advice: save 'em for tomorrow. I prefer group discussions. Y'know, alternative viewpoints, sparks flying during arguments, all that sometimes helps pull a grain of truth out of the chaos. Even high school dropouts occasionally stumble into interesting ideas."
"Professor Langstrom..." I began.
"Just Selina." She waved her hand dismissively, cutting off the formalities. "We're not in class right now, Tom. Think of this as two colleagues chatting by the office coffee machine."
"Alright, Selina." I exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.
Truthfully, one on one professional conversations had always been easier for me than trying to fit into a loud group of teenagers.
"This is about my ability."
"Oh, now that's much more interesting." Her eyes gleamed behind the lenses of her glasses, and she leaned forward slightly. "But maybe we should move this to the evening? It's lunchtime right now. You'll miss your meal, and the next one isn't until dinner. With your build, you need constant calories."
"I'll survive on crackers and water," I cut in.
Back in the army, discipline covered everything except snacking during free time. There had always been stacks of hardtack and water coolers available to everyone, and as a naturally cautious person, I had already stuffed my locker with ten packs of those dry biscuits. I had learned how to survive on ration food during quarterly accounting periods.
"If you say so." Selina adjusted her glasses, accepting my serious tone. "You've got my full attention."
I pulled several sheets of paper from my pants pocket, folded into quarters and covered with fresh writing, then handed them to her. Selina took them, and I saw neat columns of text reflected in her glasses: calorie calculations, training charts, dietary schedules. With every passing second, her eyebrows climbed higher while her lips pressed into a thinner line.
"This is an individualized workout and nutrition program," I explained while she studied my notes. "Specifically adjusted for Ted and Nick's metabolism and body measurements. Designed to squeeze out maximum results in the shortest possible time. You see, I'm a Trainer. And I decided my gift shouldn't work only for internal use."
"You learned to affect other people?" Selina snapped her gaze toward me, and there was a hungry edge of scientific greed in her voice. "You expanded the boundaries of your influence?"
"Uh, no, not exactly like that." I shrank back a little under her intensity. "Remember when I told you how I accelerated my brain to finish that damned accounting report?"
"Oh, how could I forget? That was incredibly elegant!" she practically purred, getting carried away. "And now what? You used your processing power to create perfect bodies for those boys? Tom, this is incredible! And imagine if I handed you all the accumulated data from forty years of portal expeditions. Could you calculate who created GP and what their goals are?"
I shrugged vaguely. "Hard to say. Honestly, what you're describing is already Sherlock Holmes territory. I remember in one of the books he just glanced at an old hat and immediately laid out the entire background of a man he'd never even seen before. That's basically how I feel whenever I look at data."
"Exactly! You understand what I'm getting at!" Selina jumped to her feet, and the fire of an obsessed scientist ignited in her eyes. "And what if we gave you mathematical problems that the greatest minds on Earth have struggled with for decades? A few correct lines and you'd win a Nobel Prize! We could push humanity a century forward in just a few months!"
Ugh. Listening to the flight of her imagination, I suddenly understood perfectly why they had assigned her to evaluate awakened abilities at the military office. With ambition and fantasy like hers, Selina could turn even the most useless superpower into something revolutionary.
"The possibilities are tempting," I interrupted gently but firmly, bringing her back down to earth. "But I came here to talk about Ted and Nick. Specifically about these papers."
She slowly lowered her gaze toward the sheets clutched in her hands, as if only now remembering they existed. All her enthusiasm vanished instantly, replaced by polite boredom.
"This is... interesting material, Tom," she said, casually dropping the papers onto the desk and sliding them toward the edge. "Y'know, I'll pass this along to the sergeant sometime. He's our sports guy."
She spat out that final word with so much venom that I had no doubt all those gym rats and athletes occupied the same category in her worldview as trained insects. Useful out in the field, but endlessly primitive. Typical intellectual elitism. I had seen the same thing back in college, when mathematics professors looked at football coaches like they were an evolutionary mistake.
I was not satisfied with that outcome. I understood perfectly well that if I simply walked away, those papers would end up in a trash bin within hours or disappear forever into the depths of her desk. I had spent too many years working in offices not to know how ideas died whenever a manager was too busy or too uninterested to deal with them.
Thanks to the boosted abilities of [Trainer] and the newly constructed memory palace inside my head, I processed information an order of magnitude faster than a normal person. While Selina rested her cheek against her palm and watched me with lazy curiosity, I had already run through three different versions of this conversation in my mind and selected the most effective one. I needed to give her an incentive. I needed to hook her ego.
"You know, I could've brought these papers directly to the sergeant myself," I said, staring straight into her eyes, my voice dry and professional. "If I cared about the opinion of an ordinary physical training instructor. But I came specifically to you. Because you're a scientist. And I thought only you would be capable of seeing something beyond simple gym class in these numbers."
Selina froze. She tilted her head slightly to the side, and a spark of interest flickered in her eyes again, colder and more calculating this time.
"Oh, is that so?" She rested her chin against her palm with playful defiance. "And what exactly's hidden inside these exercises that some experienced military hardass who spent years drilling cadets wouldn't understand? Enlighten me, Tom. What am I supposed to see there?"
"This isn't just a set of exercises, Selina. It's a controlled experiment." I cast the bait, watching that same cold excitement of a pioneer flare up behind the lenses of her glasses. "Before we move on to quantum equations or the mysteries of GP, why don't we test my power on something more grounded? Something tangible. Like the physiology of these two teenagers."
I stepped closer to the desk, pointing at my calculations.
"We can launch a pilot group. We give this program and diet to one of the boys, say Ted, for exactly one week. Nick keeps training under the standard military method of run until you drop. After seven days, we compare the results: muscle response, cortisol levels, recovery speed. A modern approach enhanced by my abilities versus outdated drill methods."
Selina slowly bit her lower lip while studying my notes with renewed, almost predatory interest.
"There's logic in that, Tom. We rarely get the chance to conduct a clean study in camp," she purred, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. "But there's one problem. Psychology. Teenagers are social creatures and extremely sensitive. Unequal treatment, different food portions... that could trigger unrest in the camp. They'll feel it's unfair, and that'll affect the rest of their training. Y'know, I still need to train their minds too."
"I understand." I straightened up and headed toward the exit. "My job was to offer a tool. You people at headquarters can decide for yourselves whether you're ready for innovation or if you'd rather keep doing things the old fashioned way like it's still the Vietnam era."
I left the classroom with a strange feeling lingering inside me. On one hand, it was a complete triumph: I had forced that untouchable woman to doubt her own system. On the other, a worm of uncertainty gnawed at me. Why the hell was I even trying to interfere with a machine that already worked perfectly? The Awakened Corps had been functioning successfully for forty years. They had the best specialists and billion dollar budgets. Then I showed up, a former accountant, and started pushing my own ideas. Maybe I should just go with the flow.
"Tom!" she called out just as my hand settled on the heavy door handle.
I turned around. Selina stood by the desk, carefully patting my papers with her palm.
"Thank you." A timid smile flickered across her face. "The Corps values initiative and new data. I'll think about how to formalize this officially."
I gave a short nod and stepped into the hallway. Looks like the ice had finally cracked.
***
Just as I had expected, I completely missed lunch. More accurately, I talked through it. The mess hall doors were locked already, and the smells of fried bacon and stewed beans no longer drifted from inside. I did not feel like heading to the library and killing time with old books or video games, so I decided to return to the barracks and lie down for a while. Besides, I had hardtack there, and I was genuinely starving.
To my surprise, the men's block was overflowing with noise. The guys had gathered around one of the bunks, and right in the middle of the pile I spotted Luisa. They were enthusiastically playing cards. The moment the door opened, the whole group jerked in unison, trying to shove the deck under a pillow with the classic reflex of schoolkids caught off guard by the principal. But when they saw it was me, they relaxed.
"Guys, seriously?" I walked over to my locker and pulled out a pack of hardtack. "Why don't you go to the library? It's the official recreation area, there're soft couches there, and nobody'll slap you with penalties for gambling."
"I told you!" Nick exploded, angrily throwing the cards onto the blanket. "I told you we'd get busted here!"
"Oh, relax already," Ted snapped back. "That old librarian creep's always wandering around in the library. He looks at us like we showed up to burn his precious Twilight saga. It's quieter here."
I silently chewed the dry, salty cracker, washing it down with warm water from a plastic bottle. Looking at them, I felt like an old man standing on a playground. This place was not just a training camp. It was a hybrid between an elite military base and a summer camp for teenagers. Still, some of the rules here were strict and absolutely non negotiable.
"Luisa." I looked at the Colombian girl, who kept shuffling the cards as if nothing had happened. "What the hell're you doing here? Girls aren't allowed inside the men's barracks."
"Verdad?! (Seriously?!)" She raised her eyebrows, genuine confusion flashing in her eyes. "No lo sabía! (I didn't know that!)"
I switched to Spanish so the message would hit faster. "Sí, es la norma oficial del ejército. Vuelve a tu habitación antes de que regrese el sargento, o tendremos problemas todos."
"Gracias!" she squeaked, immediately realizing what kind of trouble this could become. She jumped up, threw the cards aside, and bolted outside like a bullet. Thankfully, the sergeant was nowhere nearby.
Ted watched her leave and scratched the back of his head in confusion. "Hey, Tom, what'd she say to you? Why'd she run off so fast? Did she get her period or something?"
"That's not a polite way to talk," Nick muttered quietly.
"What? What'd I say wrong? It's natural!"
"Just watch your mouth if you don't want problems." I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling a grumpy teacher waking up inside me. "I just explained that being here's against the rules. And that goes for you two as well. Interaction with the opposite sex is allowed in the cafeteria, classrooms, or recreation areas. Not in the sleeping quarters."
"But why? We were just playing cards!" Ted looked genuinely offended.
How was I supposed to explain the harsh realities of life to a fifteen year old boy? How could I tell him that military command feared one thing more than alien invasions: unplanned pregnancies among personnel, the kind that could wipe out millions of dollars invested in cadets?
The book on working with teenagers had said not to treat them like they were stupid. Be open with them. Hopefully this would not backfire on me.
"The Awakened Corps doesn't want cadets reproducing during training."
Nick instantly turned red and looked away. Ted took a little longer to understand, but his reaction ended up exactly the same. After that, neither of them asked any more questions.
Whew. I was genuinely relieved that I did not have to go deeper into the finer details of sex education.
At exactly fifteen hundred hours, the sergeant arrived to escort us to the next lesson and introduce us to Master Smith.