SIXTY-NINE: A Busy Rabbit
by
Just as his second week on Anesidora came to an end, Alden had an hour-long planning session with Neha. He met her in the counselors’ shared office space after breakfast one morning. It was just one of the apartments, with the beds in the rooms replaced by desks.
“I have organized your next couple of weeks for you,” Neha said, slurping from a coffee mug and sliding a binder full of papers with colored tabs across the desk to him. “It would cost you a fortune if you were a wizard, so you’re welcome.”
She smiled as he took the binder. “I’m also sending you a copy through the System. But paper has its charms.”
“You’re an organizer?”
“I’m a lot of things at my age,” she said. “Not your average slouch who never actually developed their powers. But my most valuable skill combo from a work standpoint is the C-rank skill Day Planner plus my original S-rank, Locate Resources.”
“I can tell from the name that the last one is overpowered,” said Alden. He wasn’t surprised she was an S. Having enough money to be immortal implied she was high ranked at least.
“It is,” said Neha. “But it’s not flashy.”
She tapped her temple with a green-polished fingernail. “All up in here when I’m using it, like a string of magically generated Aha! moments. People are never as impressed by subtle talents as they should be. Combine it with a couple of add-ons that help me interpret a summoner’s tastes and a bunch of little spell impressions that do things like this—” She made a series of swift and flawless hand-casting gestures, and all the junk on the desk aligned itself at right angles with the edges. “—and you have asuper PA.”
“Cool.”
“That’s nice. You sounded sincere when you said that.”
“Hanging out with so many Rabbits has given me a new appreciation for their skills. Most of them are useful every single day. A lot of Avowed talents look awesome, but…how often do you really need to be able to dig a trench with your brain? Or create a tidal wave? Or incinerate something in an instant? ”
“You realize you’re a Rabbit, too, right?”
“Yes.”
“I feel like this is something I need to remind you of on the regular. It’s been five or six years since I met a Rabbit kid who wanted superhero training. And then we had to have a long talk about how only grivecks would try to turn a skill designed for dust removal into a battle thing. Check out the plan I’ve made for you. Let’s talk it through and figure out what you might want to change.”
Alden opened the binder curiously. The top pages were detailed, daily suggested schedules. Each one had a color-coded dot at the top corner, and when he turned to the corresponding tab, he found print-outs of additional information for each day.
His first thought was that Neha had gone overboard. He didn’t want to be this heavily committed to a point-by-point plan. But the more he read the plan, the more he realized how ideal it was. There were blocks of free time scheduled, so it wasn’t as tight as it looked, and the things she’d chosen to include were all exactly what he needed to be doing right now if he wanted to head to school in Apex in a couple of months.
She’d taken everything into consideration, from his high school academic record to his stated desire not to use his skill at the moment. She’d even included some odd-hours tasks that implied she knew he tended to be up at three o’clock in the morning.
Gustavo must have told her. Alden had been wandering the halls a lot, and he and the night counselor had talked a few times.
“This is perfect,” he said finally.
“I know.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“You’ve already scheduled all these meetings and things for me?”
“Yes. Except for the ones that specifically say you should do it yourself.”
So confident. If she’d been wrong about him wanting to do all of this, wouldn’t she have had to call a ton of people and cancel on them?
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “Don’t feel locked in, Alden. I’ve put all the things that will help you figure out if you’re really sure about your decision to attend Celena North High’s hero training track on the first week. If you have a change of heart, we’ll just brainstorm something new.”
“I get it.” He checked the time and his new schedule. “And…apparently I need to get going. I have academic placement tests to take.”
“Don’t flunk.”
“I mean I’ll try. It’s been a while since I was in a normal classroom.”
***********
Placement testing was happening today at the main high school in F-city. A steady influx of teenagers with different educational backgrounds meant it was a frequent occurrence. Alden caught a city bus from the stop nearest the intake dorms.
Franklin High was so large that when the bus put him out, he had to wait with a pack of other test-takers for a campus shuttle to take them to the building that housed the testing facility.
When he finally arrived, he followed a stream of other students—people from intake and island-born kids both—into a space that filled an entire upper floor of the building. It was one of the most alien-looking places Alden had seen on Earth. A low-ceilinged, black-walled, windowless room with individual student desks each placed in the center of their own large square floor tiles.
One of the two room monitors just waved everyone in and told them to sit wherever they liked.
Alden took a seat between two other guys who looked nervous.
It really isn’t an inviting place, he thought. They could have added some motivational posters or something.
If not for the fact that some people were chatting and laughing, the room would have been creepy.
The official testing day started at ten AM, and five minutes before that, everyone in the room received a notification. It was a System-moderated contract that had to be signed, saying you agreed to have all of your internet and communications features cut off while you were being tested. Re-activation of them would be reported to the monitors and result in an automatic fail.
As soon as Alden agreed, his floor tile lit up around the edges, and the sound of the other students talking and asking questions cut out. Magical silencing. That’s new.
A list of tests he could request appeared on his interface, along with the time each one would take to complete.
Neha’s schedule had already told him which ones he was supposed to pick. He started with the basic placement testing, answered a few starter questions about special needs and how advanced he considered himself to be in various subjects, and chose the tablet option when it asked how he wanted to take his tests today. His other options were through his interface or using pencil and paper.
A drone of the small rolling box variety came to him and delivered a tablet, stylus, and bottled water.
“Let’s see if that boost to processing has started doing me any favors yet,” Alden said as the tablet switched on and a basic algebra problem appeared on the screen.
Math was good. He got through all the subtests that Neha had recommended quickly enough.
He blew through the most advanced level of the reading comprehension test in half an hour.
Then he got to science and decided he hated the American public education system. Oh, so I’m clueless, he thought, reading through the first ten questions. I am a clueless person, and I didn’t even know it.
He looked around at his fellow teens, all focused on their own tests…or crying over them. Are they seriously teaching high schoolers astrophysics in other countries? Am I really supposed to know the atomic weight of all these elements off the top of my head?
“Listen test,” he said, “why don’t you ask me what mitochondria do? Let’s talk about photosynthesis. Or even anatomy. I’m pretty sure I know where my major organs all are.”
He successfully answered about ten percent of the questions. Maybe ten percent is a good score here?
He doubted it. Darn Anesidora designer babies, with their top-notch middle school science classes, ruining things for everyone else.
He gave his tablet back to the drone after that and took a late lunch break. Then he returned for Spanish and Artonan language testing.
Fortunately, the latter was divided into oral and written. He had a long conversation with a cartoon ryeh-b’t character on the tablet for the first, and then he limped his way through the Beginner I and Beginner II levels of logograms before admitting defeat.
It didn’t ask me any logograms for magic-related words. I’d have done better with those. He’d been studying his auriad book every day.
He finished his testing in the evening, long after most of the other people in the room had cleared out. He assumed they were breaking theirs up over multiple weeks, but Alden’s new super schedule called for him getting it all out of the way at once.
He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and headed out.
Before he’d even made it back to the bus stop, he’d received automated messages from every high school on the island, letting him know if he’d tested well enough for their various programs and what Year/Quarter level he’d be assigned to if he completed other entrance requirements.
It was interesting to see the differences. Most Anesidoran high schools were set up as three-year programs that operated year-round. Classes usually took place on a quarter schedule, with students needing to earn a certain number of credits to graduate by the end of their three years. Depending on how flexible the school was, you could speed things up a little by stuffing your quarters with more classes or by attending all four quarters every year and not taking off the one they anticipated you using for a break.
If Alden wanted to pursue a science track program he could, but he was going to be a Y1Q1 or Q2 depending on the school. But if he wanted to be a general studies student here at Franklin High, he could start as a Y3Q1.
Basically a beginning Sophomore for science tracks and a beginning Senior if I’m just cruising through without focusing on anything at all, he thought, translating it into terms he was more familiar with.
He checked Celena North High’s hero track. It said Y1Q2, which was as good as he could have expected really. Their credit requirements were higher per quarter because of the extra hero coursework. Alden would get to skip a few classes, and at least he’d met their basic academic standards for entry.
There was a big fat list of other requirements he’d have to meet and tests he’d have to take, though. Physical testing. Multiple interviews. And if he made it to the end of the admissions cycle…power and combat assessments.
Gonna be a busy Rabbit.
***********
“I think even you might have failed the science section, Boe. And now that you’re a high school dropout, I’m going to surpass you. I’m going to go to school with the GMO kids here on the island who all learned the half-life of actinium in ninth grade instead of spending an entire semester on The Great Gatsby. Stay alive. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Alden parked the bike he’d rented for the morning in a stand outside an open air market on the northern edge of F-city. He’d never been in the vicinity of this neighborhood before. It was bustling. Most of the signage was in an unexpected mix of Chinese characters and Cyrillic, and there were a lot of signs. He had to take a minute and talk the System down from translating them all because it was cluttering up his vision.
He slipped through the crowd, trying not to stop and gape at a woman who was striding through the air above everyone else like she had her own personal invisible sidewalk up there. His destination was a breakfast spot, but it took him a while to find it. He was glad he’d left the dorms earlier than he’d thought he needed to.
It was in an open food court area, looking out over the water and the bridge that connected F-city to Apex. The place was full of people eating at metal tables. The morning was cold and windy, but there were small portable heaters glowing beside some of the chairs. Alden looked around for the person he was supposed to meet, and just when he was about to give up and text the guy, he spotted someone standing and waving at him from a table all the way on the other side of the seating area.
He was a short, athletic-looking man in his late twenties, with black hair pulled back in a bun.
“Alden, right?” he said, reaching across the table to shake Alden’s hand as he approached.
“Yes. You’re Mr. Banyu?”
“Call me Dave!”
“Sorry I couldn’t find you in the crowd.”
Dave chuckled and shut the laptop he’d been working on. “I saw you, though. It’s my thing.”
Dave Banyu was a B-rank longsight. One who’d somehow made it all the way through the hero programs at Celena North High and University and gotten himself an honest-to-goodness hero job. He was currently working in Malaysia.
Alden had looked him up last night to prep for this meeting Neha had arranged.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I know you’re probably busy.”
“Not as much as you’d think. And getting a call from Neha is really persuasive. She’s one of the island’s original Avowed. When you grow up here, you know who the oldest S’s are. You hear Rabbit, and you think of her. And you don’t think of her calling you up one day and saying, ‘Kid, I’m sending a newbie off to hero high school. He’s a B-rank Rabbit. He’s totally getting in. Come talk to him and make sure he’s not ruining his life.’”
“She calls you kid?”
“You can’t escape the ‘kid’ when someone’s that much older than you.”
“I see…I’d rather not ruin my life.”
Dave smiled at him. “I’ve got to ask. What the hell is your skill? Because I’ve been thinking about it ever since she scheduled this meeting, and I can not come up with a Rabbit skill that would make her so sure you would get accepted. Not even S-rank ones.”
“It preserves objects,” said Alden. “Perfectly. As long as I’m carrying them. Including living things.”
The other Avowed’s expression turned thoughtful. “Safeguarding spells and skills are really functional. And not many people have them. Especially hero hopefuls; they lack the flare that teenagers who want to be heroes are usually looking for. Perfect preservation of a living thing… that’s definitely got applications.”
He leaned back in his chair. “The fact that you have to carry the things you’re preserving is limiting though. A ranged spell has the advantage. Especially since you’re a B-rank. And a Rabbit. Getting up close and personal with danger is always dicey for us low ranks. And apart from that, Rabbit is a vulnerable class physically. Your power is all in your skills. The System offers you guys proportionally very little in the foundational enhancements department.”
He gestured to himself. “Take me for example. Even though I’m a B-rank and a longsight, I’m still a Brute. The System gives me skill options to boost my visual and mental abilities. But it also gives me a lot of foundational points to spend however I want. I’ve leaned really hard into Speed at each level, on top of the specific mental processing path I chose to give me quick photographic recall. So I can outrun trouble that would otherwise kill me.”
“I do have a movement trait.”
“Oh that’s great!”
“It only works on ground.”
“Ughh… so hard.”
Alden smiled. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’ve never understood ground. I know Ground Shapers who don’t understand ground.”
“I think it’s just a concept from an ancient type of magic.” Alden scooted his chair closer toward the heater that was warming their table. “It’s highly symbolic. Old Artonan stuff. It’s less ‘ground’ and more ‘fundament of the planet that supports our life.’”
The longsight gave him a confused look. “Did you just say fundament?”
“Sorry. I spent a long time on the Triplanets recently. And I spent way too much mental energy on ‘ground.’”
“If you say so…and you’ve already been summoned?”
Alden nodded.
“Must be neat to be a Rabbit. I’ve only been summoned once myself. Did you get some levels under your belt while you were away or…?”
“Three,” said Alden. “I’m a level four.”
Dave blinked. “Wait. How long were you gone?”
“Almost seven months.”
“Holy f—are you okay? Did a wizard decide they liked having you around too much and kidnap you?”
“I’m okay. There was a teleportation mishap. I ended up stuck on a moon without a System so I couldn’t get back home.”
“That was you? I heard about that…”
Alden grimaced. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, nothing specific. But Systems aren’t supposed to break. A story like that is going to get around.”
Alden didn’t reply.
“Well…I can see why Neha thought you had a good chance of getting in despite the obvious problems. Boosting yourself three levels that quickly shows strong work ethic at least. And a bit of natural talent. And your skill isn’t bad. But…” His expression turned apologetic. “You should be prepared for the fact that it might not be enough. The admissions process is extremely competitive for B-ranks. There are a ton of applicants. If you actually get into the school you’ll see that the few B’s there are usually the sort who are so perfectly specced for some kind of superhero work that it’s hard to deny their presence.”
He pointed to himself again. “This isn’t me bragging. I’m just an Anesidora brat who knew what I wanted for years before I ever got selected. I spoke three languages. I got so far ahead on academics that I basically didn’t need to attend class for the last half of high school so that I could focus completely on the parts of hero training that were hard for me. And I started building Processing in the specific way I needed right away. Recon. My brain is basically designed to look at a cityscape, flash memorize it, and spot problem areas. I was able to walk into my interviews and explain to the doubters exactly what I would be doing as a member of a hero team and why it would work.”
He sighed. “And to be completely honest with you, I don’t even know what my shelf life as a hero will be. If people get a little too comfy with mass surveillance, and governments start adopting it quickly, I’m out of a job.”
You’d still be useful in an urban corruption field, thought Alden.
He was glad he didn’t let the words pop out of his mouth. It would probably sound strange that his very first thought when an Avowed told him they might be replaced by tech was No, actually, we’re way more reliable around demons. So no worries, man.
“I think it’s great that you’re doing battlefield support,” he said instead. “That’s what I wanted to do.”
“There aren’t many of us. You a team player?”
“I wanted to be someone who could use their powers to help other Avowed maximize their own. And reduce the load. I used to think…I still think that the ideal battlefield support is someone who makes one plus one equal three. Or more. Not the heavy hitter out front but the person in the background who makes it possible for the heavy hitter to hit really heavy. The one who makes it all come together. I wanted to be that guy.”
“That’s a thoughtful heroing philosophy,” said Dave, looking surprised. “But why all the past tense?”
“I’m…lacking in the grand dreams department right now.”
I just want to use hero school to make me into the kind of person who won’t flake out and be useless in a crisis. I’m so tired. I want to be strong enough that doing the right thing is easier. I want to be a good person, but I’m not sure if I’m still up for being one of The Good Guys.
He didn’t say it because he knew it didn’t sound right.
“That’s a problem.” Dave thanked a waiter who’d just rollerbladed up to the table with an omelet. “B-rank Rabbit? You’re going to need to want it to get into the program. You can’t be wishy-washy. Everyone will sense it from a mile away, and they’ll want nothing to do with you.”
“Neha thinks I’ll get in because I’ve got a star,” said Alden.
“A star?”
“Beside my overall level number. It’s 4. With a six-pointed star.”
The longsight paused in the act of chewing, his cheeks stuffed full of eggs and bell peppers. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed.
“You mean an official commendation? From the Artonans?”
“For bravery in the absence of obligation.”
<<Are you kidding me right now?>>
“No?”
“Yeah…so…let’s talk about B-rank life. You’re going to need to workout a lot. Start before you even show up for school. It won’t ever be enough, but you’ll have to do so much of it that nobody can accuse you of not trying. You should keep records to show the physical training faculty. They’re high-rank Brutes, and after being gods for a while, some of them forget what normal humans are actually capable of. They assume anyone who can’t jump twelve feet into the air from a flat stance just isn’t putting in effort.
“Once you get in and get an advisor, you should choose your classes for your entry quarter as soon as possible, so you can send an email to all of your teachers and introduce yourself and ask for advance work. It’ll go a long way with some of them. And…”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
*********. MOCKTAIL BREAK ********
After he was done talking to Dave Banyu, Alden had another meeting. As if she’d known what the longsight would recommend, Neha had already blocked off this four-hour long period of his schedule for “finding a personal fitness trainer,” and she’d included recommendations.
He’d gone through them all last night while he couldn’t sleep, checking websites and reading training philosophies. The Rabbit counselor had given him a ton to think about just by providing so many different types of trainers.
Did Alden want to be an endurance athlete? Did he want to have fun? Did he want to mix in power use with his physical training or keep them both separate? Martial arts? Bodybuilding? Gymnastics?
She really likes gymnastics for some reason, doesn’t she?
He’d picked the trainer he suspected Neha had known he would and messaged her to set up an appointment. Her name was Roberta—Bobby for short—and of all the people on the rec list, she was the least superhumanly impressive. A fifty-year-old, D-rank Agility Brute whose clientele were mostly off-duty heroes of the soft variety. Several Adjusters, a few Shapers.
She specialized in people who were less physically special.
But she still worked at the fanciest gym in Apex. The annual membership fee was so steep that Alden was considering wearing a t-shirt with the gym’s logo on it for Spree day to make the other Rabbits happy. It was really close to the Celena North campus, too.
He left his rental bike at a drop-off, and took a cab into Apex. His Evac Priority card flashed briefly into view when they crossed the halfway point on the bridge. He was pleasantly surprised to see that he was a Priority 6 now. In the event of an emergency, there were at least five categories of people who’d need to be rescued before him. The lanyard Cly Zhao had given him to wear when he came for Hannah’s funeral had been Priority 1.
The cab put him out in front of the gym. It was a series of three large buildings separated by curving walkways, manicured lawns, and meditation gardens. One of the buildings was a menacing structure made of concrete that was absolutely covered in warning signs on his interface telling him to STAY AWAY from the place where greater men and women might accidentally drop a one-ton kettlebell on his head.
His building was the elegant glass one. Through the fourth floor windows, he could see happy-looking people in sports bras and tank tops running significantly faster than was comfortable for normal humans around an indoor track.
He entered the gym and had just enough time to appreciate the fact that they had a custom scent and marble floors in the welcome area before a girl in lime green yoga pants appeared. At first, she had a look on her face that said it was her job to politely toss out the riffraff, but she turned bubbly as soon as he activated his name tag and told him he’d been expected.
Did he want to stop by the free smoothie bar on their way to meet Bobby? Did he want to take a look at the potion-therapy saunas? The superolympic-sized swimming pool? The morphable obstacle course?
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