That evening, Sam left Dan’s office feeling both better and worse. Better, because his performance during the sessions with Dan, while still a far cry from his performance three days ago, was a marked improvement to his performance two days ago—it was still shit, sure, but it was shit that smelled a little less rancid. And worse, because he realized that he himself was feeling the same way as he did leaving Dan’s office forty-right hours ago. At least, he thought he was feeling the same way. At this point, decoding his emotions and comparing them was a fool’s errand. He should just be thankful he was able to prevent himself from crying whenever he was left alone during the day. Which was, of course, just bathroom breaks, because Dan accompanied him to lunch.

  Well, he was alone now, and he wasn’t crying. Didn’t even feel like bursting into tears all that much. More like a fatigued despondency, an acceptance of his mental state of affairs. A resignation that he was going to keep feeling like this for however long it takes until he’ll, hopefully, start feeling better. Until then… until then, he’ll just keep going like this. Stuck between the inability to put in as much effort as he usually did, and the inability to not put in any effort and do stuff for his own enjoyment.

  Shaking his head to prevent himself from getting drawn into another self-introspective tirade that will lead nowhere he hasn’t already been to, Sam put his headphones on and started walking to the mess-hall in rapid pace. Somehow, that managed to work twice in the same day. His mind never veered anywhere deeper than surface level thoughts. And his friends were conscientious enough to keep an engaging conversation going to further distract him during dinner. Afterwards, it was back to putting his trust in music, and while it performed less effectively then, the physical exercise was an adequate enough addition to keep him from spiraling into himself.

  Then it was back to his room, a breakdown in the shower and the delayed but inevitable turn to mental musings which monopolized most of his meditation. He managed to dedicate an hour overall to studying and cultivating both—he couldn’t stomach more than that. Which left him with much more free time than he was used to. And he ended up using it in very much the same fashion as he did yesterday, watching stuff on his PC before turning everything off and reading until he felt tired enough to fall asleep. Today ended up being his latest betime of the last three days, while still being fifteen minutes earlier than his usual.

  He woke up to the sound of his alarm, once again not straight from a dream but with the memory of having dreamed the first thing to come into his consciousness as he awoke. The dream itself was nothing to be excited about. Sam barely remembered it, or them—he wasn’t even sure. Nor did he care because he didn’t feel as though his sleep was affected by the dreams one whit. Hopefully, that meant that his fears of his sleep returning to be the number one personal problem facing him were unfounded.

  Although… he started wondering as he slowly sat up. Would I choose a return to that status quo if it meant stopping feeling like this? Vivid dreams for a relatively healthy and happy mindscape? Nah… no way. The dreams weren’t going anywhere. This will, eventually. Let’s just be thankful I don’t have to contend with both. I don’t know how I would’ve been able to handle all of this if on top of feeling like shit every waking moment, I also felt like shit every sleeping moment. Just goes to show that it can always be worse… it can always be worse.

  He didn’t feel like showering this morning, and he didn’t feel like crying as well, so he had no other reason to take a shower. This left him with an abundance of free time, which he would’ve usually dedicated to his morning session of meditation. However, he still didn’t feel like mediating at all. As far as he was concerned, the fact that he managed to mediate yesterday and the day before was a miracle. So instead, he started watching the next episode of the documentary he and Yvessa started, hoping that if he treated it off-handedly by not allocating enough time to finish the episode, and thus potentially damaging his ability to learn from it, he would be able to more easily convince himself to watch it as a leisure activity.

  Maybe that trick worked (or, more likely, maybe he was simply starting to feel better) since he was very reluctant to force himself to stop watching and go downstairs. The first sign of his wants and desires coming back in full force? By tomorrow, would he feel inclined to spend the whole day in his room, watching the documentary or playing video games? Why not combine the two? Weren’t there any video games that took place during the Wars of Sarechi Unification? There had to be, or mods of games, at the very least. But playing either would require picking up a modern game, and Sam was pretty sure that even if he were feeling a lot better than he currently did, he wouldn’t be up to doing that just yet.

  Besides, he wasn’t planning to spend the entire day catering to his wants, no matter in how much force they would return. Half a day. That’s how much he would allow himself. And Web-Web’s lack of direction be damned. Maybe he could afford to take it much easier on himself. Maybe he really would be fine with a straight month of doing nothing but acting on his most basic desires. And by him being fine, he was thinking, of course, of him being able to meet his impossible goal. Get strong enough fast enough—with the exact timetable to be determined once Web-Web’s memory of it came back—to save the Web. So maybe the Web could allow him to take it easy on himself for a straight month. Who knew?

  The better question was who cared? Because Sam knew himself, and he couldn’t allow himself to fully relax, no matter what. Even from a purely selfish point of view, if he wanted to feel better as fast as possible, then he would need to keep up with some of his usual workload. Otherwise, he would just start hating himself for taking it easy and the whole point of taking it easy would be lost. He’d end up wasting a ton of time while still feeling like shit at the end of it.

  Luckily, right now he didn’t need to worry about coming up with the correct schedule that would balance his need to get stronger with his want to feel better. For now, he was still feeling similar enough to yesterday, so there was no reason to change things up. His reluctance to stop watching the documentary was nothing more than an afterthought. It probably just came from his general reluctance to do anything right now and the primitive understanding that standing up and going to work out was more demanding than staying and in sit to watch TV. All in all, he could rest easy knowing that there was nothing new to inform his friends or teachers about concerning his emotional state and the need to adjust his training in order to meet it.

  At least that’s what he thought until he started working out, when he found himself almost enjoying the activity. Or maybe it was the distraction the workout gave him. The physical exertion wasn’t anything to write home about. It felt bland, worse; it felt hard; he struggled going through it more than he did on Friday. And the music felt only a little better; the same old songs, the same old tempo. Still, he was well used to it. There was a reason why he started listening to podcasts while lifting weights. But despite the experience itself not bringing anything to the table, doing it did make him feel somewhat better. Pushing himself to the sound of metal felt better than not doing that, than how he felt while watching the documentary only a short while ago. Ironic, because he was the furthest thing from reluctant to finish once he did so. Happy to have worked out, happy for it to be over.

  The showers were empty once got in so he ended up crying a little, luckily stopping before anyone else entered so he didn’t have to do that whole bottle it all up in a moment by holding his breath and swallowing his tears bit. He got out of the shower at about the time he usually did, which left him again with some free time and the lack of desire to do anything with it. But what desire lacked, will, or self-reproach provided, so he used that free time for some light cultivating. He was better than yesterday, if only mildly, which came close to helping him cheer up.

  Breakfast passed by in a flash and he felt barely present for most of it, lost in his own thoughts. Thankfully, his friends hadn’t attempted to draw him out too many times. He didn’t begrudge them the attempts they did make. He would’ve probably acted the same way were he in their shoes and any one of them in his. Be that as it may, before too long, he was on his way back to the same path from yesterday and on to the same schedule. A mix of tracing and cultivation practice, still nothing new, still not as good as he was four days ago. Still Dan accompanying him to lunch. He didn’t begrudge him that as well. Hopefully, Dan felt the same way.

  Dinner was a little more lively from Sam’s perspective, meaning that he took an active part in the conversation. The least active part, sure, but still, without it, he was probably going to finish the day, having said less than a hundred words in total. A hundred words to other people, of course. He had a lot of stuff to say to himself all throughout the day. After dinner, he rejected Sarah’s offer to join them for a workout. His body still hadn’t recovered from Friday’s run. He also didn’t want to, and most importantly, didn’t have to.

  What he did “have” to do was go back to his room and study. But as soon as he got back, he realized that wasn’t going to happen today. He was mentally drained, the weight of the last few days suddenly becoming much more prominent. So instead, he opted for a quick shower, during which he didn’t cry, and followed it with his first regular length meditation session since Thursday, at the end of which he did start crying. But once that was over, he had the rest of the evening open to him. No studies, no training, nothing that will require him to exert his none existent mental energies.

  Thankfully, finishing the episode from this morning fall under that category, the wonders of forcing his mind to adopt a particular viewpoint about the whole endeavor. He continued to the next episode and the one after that as well, just to finish with the “pre-war” period. Then he got some energy back, and, with nothing better immediately jumping to mind, spent a couple of minutes cultivating. Only a couple, though. His ability to focus ran out very quickly, and he gave up the effort not long after that. His brain was too rattled to read, so despite wanting to, he spent the rest of the night just watching a podcast. He went to sleep earlier than the previous day.

  He was feeling better on Tuesday morning—that is, compared to Monday night. He was probably feeling the same as he did on Monday morning. Although maybe that should’ve counted for something, because, by all accounts, today would probably be his hardest day yet. Maybe it was time to take Dan up on his offer of rest, just for the morning maybe, or the afternoon. He still didn’t have anything else he wanted to do in mind, but he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to end up as tired as he was yesterday.

  But in turned out that his session with Lin passed relatively easily; not as physically difficult as his workout yesterday, if perhaps a bit more mentally involved. The session was still, much like Dan’s, just practice with nothing new to be learned. But that’s what he was going to be doing with Lin anyway. The next month was mostly slated for them to just go over everything Lin had taught him so far before advancing further. Which meant that paradoxically, out of all the obligations in Sam’s schedule, the one he was least familiar with (if you counted studying magic under “studying”) was the one that was least hindered by his mental state.

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  Plus, he didn’t cry while showering after the session, despite him being alone all throughout the shower, so maybe that was another sign that today wasn’t going to be so hard. He was getting real tired of crying. There was no catharsis to the act. Just an outpour of emotions that somehow remained unchanged by the falling of his tears. Which annoyed him to on end since he had always been of a mind that crying was an important part of the emotional process. The mental counterpart to the physical act of vomiting as they both served the same purpose: expelling waste through a very unpleasant mechanic in order to make you feel better after. But Sam didn’t feel better after crying, not once. So he was just stuck with vomiting for the sake of vomiting; the burn in his throat as the bile made its way outside with none of the payoffs.

  Cheer up, he told himself as he put on the headphones and started walking towards the mess-hall, you could also be vomiting constantly. Or at the very least, constantly feeling like vomiting. Which was true enough. Nausea wasn’t a constant presence in his life as far as bad mental episodes were concerned. But it was there. And even if depression was currently number one on the list of Sam’s psychological woes, anxiety was still very much in the running. Ready to retake first place the moment Sam started feeling good enough about his past to go back to mainly worrying about the present.

  But he was still plenty anxious right now, and despite that, and the many physical indicators of that emotion he could point out at any given moment, nausea wasn’t present at all. At the very least, he didn’t need to add anti-nausea medication to his list of new pills. Although, maybe he should, just for the worst-case scenario. Worth texting Maurice about that. Asking him to give him something when they meet on Thursday. He always hated getting nausea but not having any treatment available for it because the pills required prescription, and by the time the next doctor’s appointment ran by, he had already forgotten about the awful day he had had where he could barely move for fear of spilling his guts out.

  He hadn’t gotten a confirmation back from Maurice by the time he sat down for breakfast, so just to make sure, he asked, “We’re still meeting with Maurice on Thursday, right?”

  Sarah nodded. “No one told me otherwise. Why?”

  “I asked him for some pills. Just want to make sure that I won’t have to go out of my way to get them.”

  “If there’s anyone that should go out of their way, it’s not you. What pills did you ask for? If I’m allowed to ask.”

  “Why wouldn’t you? Anyway, it’s just your regular garden variety, can’t take them more than a couple days in a row anti-nausea pills. Figured that I better hedge my bets and have some ready. Just in case. I should probably do that with all kinds of other pills. Even if my body was perfected, that doesn’t mean that it’s impervious to maladies. At least not while I’m still low level.”

  “Well I don’t know about nausea, but if you get sick, then I’m just dragging Maurice over to you to supercharge you back into good health.”

  “That’s possible?”

  “Yes. And Maurice is good enough at his job to minimize and drawback of treating you this way. But I wouldn’t worry about that if were you. The chances you’ll get sick are pretty low anyway.”

  “I wasn’t worried, but good to know.”

  “Worrying about nausea doesn’t count?” Felix asked.

  “It’s not the same thing. I was worried about nausea from a mental cause, not physical like a stomach bug or anything.”

  “I see. Would a pill even help with that?”

  “Based on anecdotal evidence? Yes.”

  “Mine as well,” Sarah agreed. “I used to keep some on standby as well. Until I learned a tracing to help with nausea. Although, since I never had the chance to actually try it for real, I don’t know how if I’ll actually manage to trace it when I need to.”

  “I’m sure you will. How hard is the tracing?”

  “Hm… when I first learned it, it was pretty hard, all things considered. But that was almost a year ago now, so I’m guessing that even if I won’t be feeling my best, I’ll be able to trace it after a couple of tries.”

  “If you want,” Felix said, “we can try and simulate a testing environment for you. All we need is for you to eat a ton of food.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “How was your session with Lin, Sam?” Yvessa asked.

  Sam shrugged. “It was fine. Better than Saturday, actually, if I’m being honest. Despite you not being there.” He nodded to Felix.

  “Despite of?” Felix smiled. “Or because?”

  “We’re pretty close to where we were a week ago, practice wise. Same exercises besides the latest two he taught me. The difficulty is a bit lower, though. And there’s less lecturing. But overall, it’s the activity that’s the most similar to how it was before.”

  “Besides working out, you mean,” Sarah said. “Because I assure you, there hasn’t been any change there.”

  “Fair enough… Were you planning for there to be a change?”

  She nodded. “Next week probably. A smaller change than any of the previous ones, but still a change. I’m not going to do it now, though. You’re going to have to keep to your current routine a little while longer.”

  “You know I could just increase the difficulty on my own, right?”

  “Yeah. But you’re not going to. Because I’m in charge of your physical training and I say that you’re staying the same.”

  “So what was you inviting me to join you yesterday, then?”

  “That’s different. First, because I was going to give you a different workout, or just let you do whatever you wanted to. And secondly, because that wouldn’t have been you working out for the sake of getting in better shape, but working out for the sake of feeling better. If you’ll tell me that you want a more engaging exercise because it’s helping you, then you’ll get all the difficulty spikes that you want.”

  “Well, it’s never going to help me that much, so never do that. Please.”

  “Granted, just as long as you don’t worry about your workout routine staying the same.”

  “Would I still be able to complain about it after it changes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hey…” Felix clapped Sam on the back. “That was pretty much one of your classic jokes. Nicely going.”

  Sam smiled and exhaled through his nose. “So you decided to double down and just keep constant commentary on the return of my humor?”

  “Pretty much. I figured that would be the best way to redeem myself. I’ll have to sprinkle in some ‘good jobs!’ where they don’t belong, of course. And let some lines slide. To prevent you from actually feeling pressured and under watch. But overall, this is the role I’ve taken upon myself in order to help you feel better. And it’s not an excuse, in any way, shape, or form, for my frequent slip-ups in this department.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t care about that, honest.”

  “Mhm…” Felix nodded, but still looked somewhat apologetic.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Yvessa said, turning to Sam. “I spoke to my dad and Erianna yesterday. You came up both times—I hope that’s alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know… maybe you didn’t want me to tell them about what happened to you.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. It’s not like I care about what they think of me, no offense. Plus, if they were the type of people who to think badly of me because of you telling them that, then I really don’t care what they would think of me.”

  “Well, neither of them thinks badly of you. I assure you. They both wished you well. Although…” She frowned in consideration.

  “What? One of them didn’t mean it?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that… Erianna got a little angry after that—not at you, though.”

  “At Farris?”

  “Yeah. She was worried about him… using you, pushing you at a time like this.”

  Sam had to laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure the one thing Farris wants to use me for is the one thing he hasn’t been able to use me for so far. Which sort of means that she’s right, but not for the right reasons. Now Farris has an excuse to grill me about Terran pop culture with the guise that talking about that will help me feel better.”

  “I really doubt that was what she was worried about.”

  “Eh, what else is there to be?”

  “Not trying to speak for her,” Felix said, “but I can definitely see where she’s coming from. I mean, from her perspective, she’s probably worried about Farris pushing you too hard because he’s got this big ass goalpost for you to meet. She hasn’t seen you two interact, so it’s not like she really knows it’s not like that.”

  “I guess so. I don’t know, though. Maybe her relationship with Farris is different from mine cause I wouldn’t feel like worrying about him behaving that way towards someone else in my position. Although… I could see that if… in essence, she’s coming from a similar place to Sarah. Only instead of worrying about me for who I am, which she can’t because she doesn’t know me, she’s worried about me because she’s feeling guilty for Farris, the whole mentor business that she’s my predecessor in.”

  “You know we’re all worried about you, right?” Sarah asked. “It’s not just me. We all want what’s best for you. And are you trying to say that my worry is misplaced? Because you just said that Erianna doesn’t have a reason to worry on account of Farris.”

  “No that wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to articulate why this woman that I never met might care about me.”

  “Because she’s a good person?” Yvessa said.

  Sam chuckled. “A scathing indictment on all the women in my previous life. Fuck, ignore that, you’re right. Send both of them my thanks. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? I’m not sure what relationship I even have with those guys. Like why did you even mention me?”

  “We were talking about me and you came up organically. I said stuff about the weekend being tough, how I was worried for you, you know the drill.”

  “In theory, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever actually talked to my parents about any of my friends. Or to my friends about other friends that they didn’t know.”

  “Well that’s because you’re a guy.”

  Felix cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Don’t pin this on men. This is just Sam being Sam. Sure, are men more prone to that behavior than women? Maybe. But it’s still a personality choice. For example, my family knows all about you guys. Within the bounds of reason, of course.”

  “So did you also tell them about my recent mood shift?” Sam asked.

  “Not yet. We haven’t actually talked or exchanged messages since. They’re coming for a visit and a vacation in two weeks. So I’ll make sure to catch them till then so they’ll behave appropriate. Which reminds me, my middle sister is super interested in you. You and Sarah, I guess, but last time Sarah didn’t manage to quench her curiosity. She’s a 20th and 21st Terran history buff. She keeps messaging me to ask you about all kinds of stuff.”

  Sarah nodded with a laugh. “I remember she wanted to know about the Cold War.”

  “To be fair to her, I didn’t say she was a Taken history buff. I’m pretty sure most people don’t know that no modern Taken could’ve been alive during the Cold War.”

  “We’re there actually any Taken that were alive during it?” Sam asked.

  Felix frowned in puzzlement. “Hm… I don’t know.”

  “Yes, there were a couple,” Sarah said. “But none that were adult during its heydays.”

  “Well there you go. By the way, when were you born, Sam?”

  Sam shrugged. “After the Cold War ended.”

  “And my sister’s hope is dashed yet again. Yours too, Sarah.”

  “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes at him.

  Breakfast finished soon after and Sam went on with the rest of his day. Which was… exactly the same as yesterday. Still only practicing with Dan. Still a great distance away from his usual performance. The only point of difference was the obvious one, the workout after dinner (which was exactly like the workout from two days ago). At least he finished the day a little less tired than yesterday. Opting to mostly read for the rest of the night once he finished with his shower and meditation. He cultivated for a few minutes between turning off the PC and starting to read, but, just like yesterday, the session lasted shortly and wasn’t all that focused. He was pretty focused on reading, at least. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, as he was inching closer to book two.

  Waking up was the same deal, or ordeal, depending on your perspective. A brief rumination about him having dreamt before consciousness fully kicked in and he started slowly getting up. Hours later, when he turned in for the night in much quicker fashion than when he got up, he spent the minutes until he fell asleep considering the fact that the only major difference between this day and Monday was that he remembered to do Lin’s exercises in the evening.

  The last two days of the week almost blended together in his mind. He almost felt like a spectator, watching his body going through the motions for the entire day. Waking up. Getting ready. Working out in some fashion. Then the same old practice session with Dan (that hopefully actually had an effect on him and wasn’t just a waste of both of their times). And since he ran again on Friday, trying to relive the relief from last week, the last major difference between the two days was gone. At the very least, Sam felt slightly better as he fell asleep on Friday night. Maybe not better than the day before. But definitely better than a whole week ago.