Chapter 23: The Metal Must Flow

  The official name of the place Lindsay took him was the ‘Power Park,’ but the more derogatory term, according to her, was the ‘Padded Room.’ Questions were countered with ‘You’ll see.’ Jack wasn’t at all sure what to expect at that point, but, as it turned out, the look of it was fortunately more on the side of the official designation.

  It was something like a park crammed behind four walls, if exceptionally widely spaced. It had a strong 3-dimensional presence, with terrain jutting from the walls and a very high ceiling, along with several free-floating platforms. There were lots of objects scattered everywhere — balls, blocks, random debris. Some of this was on obstacle courses, but a lot of it was simply strewn, and obviously by various powered occupants.

  It was almost all kids — old adolescents and young teens, with some attendants, apparently trainers and teachers. As Lindsay led him down a paved stone path through grass with occasional, disturbing, deeply gored-out sections, he saw a ball fly overhead at superspeed, and a kid like a blur ran after it, not even looking their way. Lindsay didn’t flinch. He also had a brief vantage point to see two teens standing across from each other, apparently staring each other down.

  Okay, all worrisome, but ‘Padded Room.’ That means it's safe… right?

  There seemed to be some sort of very narrow tower that was prominently quite visible dead in the center. Jack asked, “So, what’s with the-”

  “You’ll see!” Lindsay repeated in annoyance. “First things first, we’ll introduce you. It’s more important when you come here alone.”

  “Right.” He had no clue what anything she was saying meant, so he simply followed along.

  The narrow tower was made of wood, and started wide at the base and slowly narrowed in reaching the top. Here, it turned into a high-backed chair with a parasol over it, and a well-tanned, barefoot blonde woman sat there in a red one-piece bathing suit, white rimmed cap, and sunglasses. She held an apparent bullhorn and a small pair of binoculars hung from her neck. So did a whistle. The one-piece had ‘GUARD’ written in bold white across her bust.

  Jack’s neck craned all the way back to look up the absurd height, and his brain took a while to believe what he was seeing as a real thing rather than a hallucination.

  A lifeguard chair?! What the hell?!

  The judicious sentinel was watching with her binos, and she suddenly blew her whistle. “Hey!” she blared through her bullhorn in a weird accent. “James, dude! Stop trying to break your neck on purpose! You’re not invulnerable, man!”

  “Memoria?!” Jack blurted out incredulously, feeling like he was out of his mind.

  The lifeguard flicked her head downward, then smiled and waved. “Aloha, Jack! You’re on the list. Tubular! Have fun, be safe.” There was a pause. “I’m not Memoria, just another specialized subroutine, oh Dudest Maximus! I know what you’re thinking: whaaat?! Hey, that’s a totally fair reaction, bro. Excuse me a second.” — she lifted her whistle and blew it furiously, then switched to the bullhorn — “James, I can see everything, you ignoramus! You can’t hide behind a pillar and do it, dude! Are you gonna make me give you a timeout, bro? Knock it off.”

  She turned back down to Jack. “Where was I? Oh yeah — Whaaaat?! That’s your face right now. Look, most of the kids that come here are like that pain-in-the-ass James over there — kids. We keep it lighthearted for them at this stage, and, you know, the teens get something to make fun of as lame and feel cooly superior about. Sorry you’re a bit older, bro, but maybe you should just lighten up and uncork?” She shrugged down at him and put on a big, toothy smile.

  Jack swept his incredulous face from the lifeguard to Lindsay, but she had her hands on her hips, eyeing Jack and nodding in agreement as if he was being unreasonable in not immediately accepting the whole, ridiculously bizarre situation. He had no words.

  “Anyway,” the blonde at the top of the chair continued, as she looked off with her binoculars, “just call me Lifeguard. Also, hi Lindsay!”

  “Hi yourself, Lifeguard,” Lindsay replied, craning her head upward and smirking. “Those legs are poppin’, girl.”

  Lifeguard thrust one of her legs out in a pose, smiling delightedly. “Yeah, you think so?! I totally improved the sheen code. You’re so sweet with how observant you are!”

  “Just telling the truth! If you could give our slackjaw here the basic spiel, I’d appreciate it.”

  Lifeguard made a weird hand sign with her thumb and pinkie finger extended. “I’d be stoked to, babe! Alright, hang loose and listen, Jack: here, I, like, absolutely monitor and operate an advanced, proprietary, continuous forcefield to protect you little dudes and dudettes from yourselves. This field is no better than level nine, so keep that in mind for Future You coming in here blowing stuff up! Exceeding that force level is your own liability you’re fully responsible for, but below that, I got you, bro. Run around, screw up, experiment, have fun. If you need help spotting, coaching, motivating, whatever, just call for a Lifeguard! There are totally a ton of us around if needed. And by us, I mean me!”

  “There’s superior steel underneath the top layers,” Lindsay added, “which Lifeguard can utilize to counter excessive force. But if she has to do that, you’re probably going to get banned from here. Slightly exceeding level nine doesn’t usually qualify since the forcefield isn’t all-or-nothing and will blunt any harm.”

  Jack blinked and tried to process it all. I guess I can see how her theme makes a weird kind of sense in this place. Basically a pun. Figures. “Okay, fine. But I have no idea what ‘level nine’ equates to. I’m assuming I’m nowhere near that.”

  “Good assumption, dude!” Lifeguard called down. “You gotta work up to it. Right now, you got a measly Force of 72, right? That’s like, level zero to one. Until you get clever with it, it isn't much different than a kid swinging around a hammer. Now, if you utilize Magnitude — which translates more directly to kilograms of lift — and pick up, uh, I dunno, say a washing machine? And drop it on someone? That can be deadly. Or, like, change that hammer into a blade or spike, and you have ensuing increases in deadliness except to those punks that are resistant to it.”

  “Huh. So… I can lift 90 kilograms of metal?”

  “With strain,” Lindsay cut in. “Like a deadlift. A full agent would want to take off at least ten percent for stability unless absolutely necessary. Twenty to twenty-five percent for general peak efficiency. But you haven’t so much as flexed yet, oh budding superstar pupil. Your totals will take time to get there. You only need a fraction of Force to take a weapon and sling it around. The statistic is a very ballpark measure for comparison, especially in reference to lethality. Even a kid swinging a hammer can crack a skull, after all, and you have a lot better reach. The truth is, she's underselling it. Once you train and add control, precision, you'll be plenty lethal even at level one.”

  “What is the Force of a level nine effect, then? What’s my likelihood of getting there?”

  “The likelihood is deadass certain and not terribly distant if you look to produce a puncture-capable weapon. Mass is only so relevant to the equation for a sizable number of potential enemies. But the equivalent Force of a level nine effect — which is not the same as being level nine, by the way — but that’s about 1000 to 1100. Enough to completely splat the average skull. Lifeguard mentions resistance. Guardian types often have higher Puncture and Shockwave resistance — two common methods of conventional weapons. Bullets and bombs. Meanwhile, if a high caliber rifle round hits you or me dead center, we’ll get torn a new asshole.”

  “So how do you deal with Guardian types, then?”

  “Enough raw Force through Blunt Trauma, or possibly with unconventional Burn, Degeneration, or Brain Trauma damage. The last is more colloquially referred to as ‘psychic,’ but make no mistake, it means fraggin' up the brain. Rare specialists there, though. You could try various disabling tactics instead. Entanglement. Targeting their noggin with Blunt Trauma to try for a Concussion effect. Won’t take them out, but maybe you can stun them long enough to drop a wrecking ball on them. Let gravity help you out.”

  Lifeguard held a finger out chidingly. “Speaking only of, like, all-out enemies! You don’t want to murder your allies in a duel!”

  Lindsay glanced upward. “These are just hypothetical scenarios to give him an idea for things. The point of most weapons is to maim and kill. Avoiding that reality is a whole other ballpark. In any case, there are various means of setting up high-powered duels that don’t cause serious injury and death. VR, for one.”

  “VR, shmee-R, I say.” Lifeguard paused, then grinned suddenly. “Hey Lindsay, be sure to have him bend the spoon.”

  “What? What spoon?”

  “There is no spoon,” Jack said.

  Lifeguard looked down at Jack in open-mouthed delight, pointing a finger. “You got the reference, bro!”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Lindsay frowned between them. “Right. Whatever. Jack, come with me — time for less yapping and more tapping. You’re about to get your flex on!” She turned and walked off down a stone path beyond the chair’s base.

  Jack waved farewell to Lifeguard and followed behind his tutor. The path proceeded up a hill and down into a forested decline. Some of the trees were uprooted, with the roots apparently rather shallow. Something was slightly off about them. “These trees are fake?” he asked.

  “Yep,” Lindsay murmured from ahead. “Get fragged up so much, it’s only sensible. Oh, by the way — before you ask — I want you to use your powers before I delve you again. Helps to see what spools out tangibly from the factory settings right off the get-go. And it’s good for you to flex yourself while completely raw at least once.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  The path led to something like a small track field, with a rubbery road circling an area of reddish dirt in the center. Between the track and the center, numerous metal rectangles appeared inset in the ground, like panels. Lindsay approached one, and it opened, at which point a metal table covered in a variety of weights and metal objects lifted out of it levitationally. She turned and walked further toward the center as the table followed along.

  As soon as she stopped, she whipped around, and Jack was surprised to see her throw something at him. The act and the speed with which she did it were not something he was prepared for. He froze. Shortly, he felt an odd, slight pressure in his chest, and there was a resonant distortion in the air in front of him. He looked down to see a throwing knife right at the center of his chest point first — very briefly — before it dropped with a little thud into the dirt.

  “What the hell?!” Jack exclaimed, shocked as he realized she’d just thrown a knife at him. Without really thinking, his hand went to his chest.

  Lindsay gazed back at him with a frown. “Where’s that great reaction time you’ve displayed in the field, Jack?”

  “Are you kidding me?! I shouldn’t expect you to suddenly throw deadly weapons at me!”

  “Not deadly here, not from me or you. This serves to demonstrate the reliability of the field. You’ll have to get used to this to train without walking on eggshells. It can be messy at first. Now, go ahead and try whatever way you think will work to throw the knife back at me — with your power. First, back up, though. You’re too close.”

  Jack took a deep breath and frowned down at the knife. It had a red handle and an unusual, sleek stylization to it. Then again, he didn’t know jack shit about throwing knives. “And there’s no way I can do it too hard?”

  “Of course not, Jack. You are a little baby boy at this right now. You damn sure won’t be standing across from me when you can exceed the field. Not in the real world, anyway. I’m nasty in VR. Part of my job is fighting the best there, you could say.”

  He nodded and stared down at the knife. Backed up significantly. Two meters was ideal, he recalled. Maybe I shouldn’t be using my eyes at all?

  Jack closed his eyes and tried to resummon that sense of things he had before, after he’d awoken from passing out on the table with Memoria. To hear the beautiful music again, to reach out and take the hand of his new ‘brother molecules.’

  At first, it was like a hum somewhere beyond hearing. He’d stopped listening for it, and what was active before had become dormant. The key was not external, nor was it internal… but it was close. Through many pinhole connections was an incredible substance. Once he became aware of it, he became aware of himself as a medium it flowed through, that it resonated through, down a pathway to make music… seemingly with a kind of mutual kin.

  There were plenty of them around. Without realizing it, Jack’s hands were extended out, the core of him suddenly excited and ready to unleash the orchestra, rushing and bursting forth-

  “Stop!” Lindsay shouted sharply, like the crack of a whip. It was a bit surprising from her, and it made Jack jump, spoiling his concentration.

  He opened his eyes and the whole extension ‘reeled back in.’ Briefly, in a relative confused chaos of perception, he saw glittering sparkles in the air. They shot back toward him and disappeared with the feeling of absorption. His heart was pounding, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin he didn’t expect to see. It was like he did a super-quick, explosive sprint, all without moving.

  Lindsay raised her eyebrows at him, her arms clasped behind her back. “Okay, that’s what we don’t want to do. You know what you did, right?”

  Jack looked around. The knife may or may not have moved. But the table nearby had all the neat rows of items jarred at chaotic angles. Not quite tossed. “Uhh… I… nudged everything.”

  “Congratulations, Captain Obvious. You’re really just realizing that? That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then no, I don’t.”

  “You skipped steps. You can’t just grab shit like that, which is why it was random chaos as a result. You basically just sprayed your load everywhere without discipline.”

  Jack did a slow blink. Does she even hear herself? “Like a… spider?”

  “With their webs? Yeah, exactly! Or a skunk with its smelly gunk.”

  “Riiight. I’ll… do my best to avoid blowing my… gunk prematurely under your tutelage, Lindsay.”

  She nodded, apparently oblivious — or shameless. “Good. You need to start by calling forth the memorite. Then you can direct it to the knife and fling it.”

  “Huh. Can’t I just make my own dart or something?”

  “Hypothetically. Harder for you right now. Moving and then picking up an existing object is easier to intuitively understand and emulate for you, being a human. Doing this will help you to eventually shape metal. We’re starting small.”

  “Understood.” Jack hesitated still, curious about something. “I… seem to conceptualize it like music. Vibration and resonance. Is that alright? Atypical?”

  “Oh! Neat. Not what I expected, but it’s Jack Laker’s brain and Jack Laker’s power. Unless we determine it's inhibiting you and needs to get nipped in the bud somehow, we can just go with it. Not unheard of to equate Interpret with a more relatable secondary sense. Alright. What you need to do is propagate that sound into the open air, and keep it from ‘tuning in’ to something else. You aren’t ready to lead a symphony. You need a conductor’s wand. Something to establish control and rhythm.”

  “Mmn. Hey, I like that. Might work out.” Jack closed his eyes once more, eager to try the new concept but trying to keep himself entirely chill so as not to ‘blow his load’ again.

  Discipline, discipline, discipline…

  The substance — the resonance locked away yet so near — bubbled up as he bridged to it again. This time, he contained it, focused it, not letting it magnetically connect to other things, though the itch was far worse once he brought it forth. More of it than before flowed into existence through him, through his every pore, their tunes very similar as he maintained the necessary vibe.

  It quickly felt unstable and ready to unravel, slipping out of his control.

  Lindsay spoke softly, “Don’t let it loose. You’re straining and wanting to form with your maximum — pull back a little. Make it… quieter. Smoother.”

  Jack struggled to grapple with it, like keeping the lid on an explosion in a jar. His muscles went taut, and sweat beaded on his skin. But he managed to hold it and reduce the intensity, buying a little time.

  “Now target the knife!” Lindsay called.

  His separate act of containing the resonant substance made him more keenly aware of the nearby things calling for it. So many little magnets reaching out, and his own trying to make the fingers to shake hands. He gave it an outlet, finally, letting it extend and touch the nearest contained resonance at his feet. He wanted to try a kind of controlled grab, but as soon as he ‘opened the box’ it flared. Resonance became one, and it snatched it.

  Shit-

  There was a kind of thud as he felt a mild pressure at his chest. Instantly, everything to his fine control unraveled, as the substance gripped something way too close and had to let go. It rebounded right into him.

  He opened his eyes this time to see many glittering silvery gossamers in the air firing back into him. There wasn’t exactly a sense of impact as they broke down into smaller particles before even making it to his skin. But he felt a tickling sensation and broke out in goosebumps. A shiver ran through him as a final sensation before the entire experience was over.

  Sweat dripped from him and he immediately leaned on his knees sucking in air, feeling as if he’d had a little intense session of weightlifting. “Damn!” he muttered breathlessly. “Pulled instead of pushed, right?” When he glanced at Lindsay, though, she was smiling at him.

  “Well done, Jack,” she offered. “I didn’t expect you to do much more than nudge it or flip it toward me. You flung it! Very lightly and haphazardly, and entirely the wrong direction, but still. A great first try. Yes, you’ll want to reverse what you did to send it. Repel, essentially.”

  He nodded thoughtfully as he panted and stood back up straight. “It felt more magnetic this time. Repel sounds about right.”

  “Memorite is absolutely magnetic. It’s lodestone! Magnetite — well, an alloy, anyway. And its exact properties are more fluid for you due to your control. Now, you’re not using magnetism specifically, but you’re hypersensitive to metals. Once again, a natural sensory association. It won’t matter once you’ve really got the hang of it. You’ll be able to levitate the knife, turn it into a block, a sphere, a cable, make it dance, whatever.”

  Jack grinned as he imagined it. He looked down at the knife. “This motherfragger right here is getting rearranged for sure.”

  Lindsay quickly darted forward to lean down and snatch it up, rising and holding it to her chest while glaring at him. “No, it will not! This is my knife.”

  “Wait — you didn’t take it off the table?”

  “Of course not.” She opened her coat to reveal two other knife handles at her side, in a row of sheaths, one empty. She wiped off the one in her hand on her pant leg and returned it to its sheath. The handles… “As if you’d find designer colors in standard stock.” Turquoise, purple, and red. “I keep a brace on me, if needed.”

  “Needed for what?!”

  “Stabbing, throwing, cutting, shucking oysters, stabbing, and other utility uses that avoid me messing up my nails. For me, a sharp object is more necessary than a sidearm. In fact, you can’t take a sidearm everywhere to begin with, so-” She straightened her coat and smiled pleasantly. “Now, where were we? Catch your breath and let’s move on, hmm?” She walked back over to the table, grabbed a small steel sphere, and tossed it on the ground. “I want you to use the minimal force necessary to nudge it. Ideally, you’ll quickly learn to roll it. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Jack nodded, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I’m ready.” He reached once more to the ‘singing substance’ and used himself as the channel to bring it forth, this time focused on a minute amount. A… whisper.

  A chant of sorts came to him then — a call, a mental trigger, a psyche up, a tuning fork in the form of a whisper.

  The metal must flow.

  The metal is not to be confused with spice.

  Love Potion Lore Post #9 "NBP Districts, Part 3" (in comments):

  ::: Read Ahead 12 Chapters on Patreon — New Posts @ 11am EST :::

  ::: :::