?Walk, run, jump, sidestep, roll, S-shaped acceleration…?

  Though the mechs differed in models, the foundational stances remained universal.

  ?1 minute, 21 seconds.?

  Larry’s mech straightened as the timer froze.

  “See? Master these stances fluidly, and you can chain them freely. Typically, completing all basics under five minutes qualifies you for Level 1 combos.”

  “Understood, Doctor.” Latham replied humbly.

  Larry ignored him, turning to Card. “Your turn?”

  “Gladly.”

  Card’s mech performed the same stances in a different sequence.

  ?1 minute, 32 seconds.?

  “Eleven seconds slower, old friend!” Larry crowed.

  “My mech’s heavier. Match this time in a training unit, and I’ll call you master.” Card retorted.

  Larry deflected. “Schneider! Let’s see if you’ve slacked off.”

  Schneider’s 10-meter training mech executed yet another variation.

  ?2 minutes, 28 seconds.?

  “Not bad!” Larry clapped. “Consistently sub-2:30. Keep it up.”

  Card abruptly addressed Latham. “Now you.”

  “Me?”

  “Do it!” Larry barked. “Ten minutes or less. That’s your pass mark.”

  Card coughed. Schneider snorted.

  “What’s wrong with you two?”

  “Dry throat.”

  “Skin rash.”

  “Ridiculous.” Larry muttered.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Latham hesitated. “Doctor… your sequences were all different.”

  “Sequences?!” Larry’s mech loomed. “You ignorant fool! Basics aren’t choreographed! Chain them freely! Fail to finish under ten minutes, and you’re banned from combos for six months!”

  The training mech trudged to the center. “Begin?”

  “?Go!? Oh. My. God—”

  The mech became a blur.

  ?Walk, run, jump, sidestep, roll, S-shaped acceleration…?

  ?1 minute, 20 seconds.?

  Card whispered, “A natural.”

  Next sequence: Card’s variation.

  ?1 minute, 20 seconds.?

  Schneider’s voice trembled. “Same time.”

  Third round: Schneider’s pattern.

  ?1 minute, 19 seconds.?

  Larry’s pulse thundered. “Impossible… must be a glitch…”

  Outside the training room…

  Two passersby froze at the observation window.

  “?1:20 flat!?” one shouted into the public channel.

  The camp erupted. Crowds swarmed, sealing the room in a human barricade.

  By Latham’s third run (?1:19?), the hall fell deathly silent.

  Inside:

  “…Schneider. Confirm he started training this year?”

  “No, Doctor. He didn’t.”

  Larry exhaled. “Good. No one masters Level 1 combos in months unless they’ve trained for decades. How old is he? Fifty?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “?Eighteen?!? Was he practicing in the womb?!”

  “He began four hours ago.”

  Larry’s mech staggered. Now he understood Schneider and Card’s earlier smirks.

  They’d been pitying a fool—and that fool was him.