We were only five students in the classroom that day — Aliéna, Fèstil, the student who had sat beside him the other day, Essae, and me. The last name was unexpected. Essae was a recluse by nature; knowledge and curiosity summed up his whole being. We had met in the academy's libraries — the only places, aside from his room, where he could ever be found. Physical activity was not his strength, nor did he care for it. Yet, for once, he did not look like he had been dragged there. He looked eager — almost animated.
Our greetings were hesitant and awkward. Usually, classrooms were crowded, and conversation was discouraged. But five people alone in that vast, echoing room — the silence was unbearable. Thankfully, Sonotoria entered before it became too painful. Without even saying hello, she ordered sharply:
- Stand, 'pproach 'n line up.
We obeyed at once. No one looked surprised. It seemed clear we had all met her before.
- 'lcoma fightin' class. Bein' here means you put your trust in me. 'Fore we start, needa know if I, too, can trust y'all. In turn, speak out your reasons comin.
I was first in line, so I answered immediately.
- I want to keep my pen.
- I want to make sure my idiot is safe in your class, said Aliéna.
- I have feelings for you, declared Fèstil.
- I'm bored. This class seems fun, said the nameless student.
- I am curious, and you appear to possess knowledge I lack, concluded Essae.
She reacted to none of it. Her expression never changed — she only nodded, listening to each of us in turn, then said simply:
- 'Aight, these are good reasons.
To say I understood her would have been an overstatement, yet something in that moment felt clear. She did not really care what our reasons were — she cared that they were honest. What mattered to her was that none of us lied.
- For the duration o' our classes, 'n when y'are with each others, I want you to use new names.
- For what reason?, asked Essae immediately.
- 'Many. Prevent identification. Create unity. Ge'in' useda havin' fight o' fake name. Crystallize reason. Overhaul good tool for better outcome.
At the time, none of us realized how much meaning she had packed into those words. Right away, she began assigning names in reverse order, starting with Essae and ending with me.
- The Demon. God. Darling. The Pen. Little Bug.
Aliéna was the only one unsurprised by her name. I knew she would not like it — but calling her Pen amused me. Calling Fèstil Darling, however, already irritating me, and God would be even harder to say aloud with a straight face.
- Questionin', complainin' o' negotiatin' this matter's prohibited.
- What about you?, asked Aliéna. What will your name be?
- Lola.
The word hung in the air. It was rarely spoken anymore. Fear had long since been replaced by sara in common speech, and few remembered that Lola once meant something deeper — an uncontrollable, primal terror that seized both body and soul. The name sounded harmless now, even sweet, and it suited her candid and youthful appearance. But I had no doubt she chose it knowing exactly what it meant.
- Now'a t'day's matter. Any o' y'all tell me wha' power's?
- Basically, strength, said Essae — now the Demon.
- Yes, the extent of force you can apply with your muscles, added Fèstil — Darling.
- Muscles? Gods got nona tha'. Are they not strong?
- I suppose they are not per se, but they have no need for strength, replied God.
- Needn't strength fo' wha'?
- To do as they please… or something.
- Good 'nough. Tha' how we'll define power. The ability to force a favorable outcome.
- What do you mean how we'll define it?, asked my Pen. Power is power. Words have meanings. You can't just redefine them as you wish.
- Sure you do. Words are contracts wi' 'greed 'pon meanings. 'S long's the group 'grees to the contract, 't's fine. 'T's called jargon.
- But still — what's the point?, I asked.
- Misunderstandin' power means certain death… and not necessarily yours.
It should have been obvious from the start, but the idea of fighting still felt distant. Until that moment, none of us had truly realized that this class could cost lives.
When she spoke of death, her gaze locked on mine. There's a saying that you can read a person through their eyes. I had always liked to think our eyes were like books — recording everything we'd seen. Maybe it was true, maybe it was not. I was never skilled at reading such stories, but I saw something that day: exhaustion. I knew her eyes had seen too much.
- 'Bout muscles. True tha' first way to improve power's strength. But trainin' your bodies'd take too long. Y'all too frail.
- So we'll fight with knowledge?, asked the Demon.
- Somewha' true but totally false. I shall demonstrate wha' y'all'll learn. Tell me, Demon — wha' gravity?
- A deformation of spacetime by mass.
She lifted her hand. A marble-sized sphere rested on her palm — none of us had seen her pick it up. She smiled faintly.
- Your def'nition's funny. You've no idea wha' spacetime o' mass are. Yet you use'em to 'fine somethin' y'know 'ven less 'bout.
Without a sound, the sphere rose from her hand and hovered, suspended in midair. With a tone briefly clear and smooth she added:
- At its core gravity and what binds atoms together are one and the same. The deformation you speak of is part of the phenomenon, but irrelevant — because space, as you perceive it, is not a physical reality but a trick of the mind.
- Then what is it?, asked the Pen.
- Gravity? 'M not so sure myself. I know wha' makes i' work.
- Idria, said both the Demon and Darling together.
The word was not unknown to me. The world was said to consist of several kinds of matter. The common one, maraéda, was what we simply called "matter." Idria, however, was believed to be a subtler substance — spiritual, ethereal.
- Correct. Idria's jus' 's much the matter of mind 's 't's responsible for cohesion o' matter. Which's why I can manipulate gravity with I's mind. Awfully convenient, 'nit?
The floating sphere began to glow, flooding the room with a blinding white light. Except for Lola, we all flinched and shielded our faces.
- 'S can see, one can also vibrate, excitin' matter, producin' 'tense heat 'n light.
When the glow faded, the sphere was unchanged, still levitating calmly.
- Cool, said God.
- What else can you do?, asked my Pen, now intrigued.
- Well, y'can play with speed 'n direction.
The next instant, the sphere shot to the left, slamming into the wall with a thunderous crack that echoed through the room. When our attention returned to her, she was holding a knife firmly in her hand. None of us noticed when or how she got it. Without hesitation she stabbed her other hand with it. Blood was running freely, yet she withdrew the blade as if it were nothing more than a splinter.
- Mucha process, huh? Knife's tool tha' can be use'a wound. 'T's called a weapon. Y'all familiar with accidental wounds. When on purpose, wounds tendda 'ppen 'gain quickly.
She immediately stabbed her hand again, ignoring our shouts, and pulled the blade out once more.
- Now 's said, Idria handles cohesion o' matter. 'S one can alter gravity, one can strengthen cohesion.
She raised the knife again and struck her palm. This time the blade shattered. Her hand was unmarked — the previous wounds gone as if they had never been. It was getting clearer and clearer why she was so scary scary to me.
- So you are… immortal?, asked Darling.
- Naught's 'thout price, Darling. Idria's more potent than physical body. 'T's also lot mo' tirin'. Tire yourself 'n you'll die. Ideally, Idria 'n physical body must work t'gether — but y'all weaklings.
- Do you think we'll ever be able to do that?, I asked.
- Sure hope so. These are the basics. No'nly d'y'all needda learn all tha' quick, y'also must learn your limits.
- Why quickly?, asked my Pen.
- Danger for very unfavorable outcome in 'bout an Ikian month*. 'F lucky.
- And how are we supposed to train?
- To i', God. I'll give y'each sphere. Find darkest room you can. Throw i', find i' 'thout sight. When do, restart 'till you find i' four time 'n a row in less than five seconds.
- I'm guessing it goes without saying we can't use tricks, said Darling.
- 'T's no' 'lly 'thout sayin' 'nymore now 's i'? But yes — no tricks, big room, lotta stuff in it. Make i' 's difficult 's you wanna live. Mo' 'fficult mo' you learn.
- And once we succeed?, asked Aliéna.
- 'F you succeed, Pen, come backka me. Keep your progress 'tween you and me. 'N y'all better start 's soon 's you can.
She placed a sphere into each of our hands — or so it felt. None of us actually saw her move. To an outside observer, the spheres would have seemed to appear from thin air. Every time she acted, she seemed to defy reality a little further.
- Can go. Lil' Bug, remain bit please.
Aliéna — my Pen — gave me a worried look before leaving. She brushed her hand against mine gently and departed. I should have been terrified, but I wasn't. Lola was more dangerous than ever, and somehow, less frightening.
- Names are strange things, she said once we were alone. They've such 'portant impact 'n our lives. Yet, we choosen't'em most o' time.
- Uh… yeah, I guess. Where are you going with this?
- Gift. Fo' you.
- What gift?
- Wan'you know why "Little Bug." Tha' I's gift.
It was an odd idea for a gift, but curiosity won over confusion.
- You compared me to an insect once. It's related, isn't it?
- Yes 'n no'd be both lies. I saw how you looked at me earlier. You believe I's age now, doncha?
- I guess I do.
- Hardda believe fo' you, but quite conceivable at the same time. You familiar with infinity, I presume?
- Of course.
- Def'ninin' i' 's 'fficult. Maths fathom i', philosophy ponder i', physics defy i'. 'M mo' 'terested in practical 'spects.
- I can't say I can see infinity as something practical.
- Yet you experience i'. See how long I lived — yet, d'you think I could outlive a god?
- Of course not.
- Right. Gods are immortal, so not 'ssible, right?
- Well, yes.
- They're not. 'Day o' 'nother they'll die.
- Even if that's true, we'll all be long gone by then — you included.
- True tha'. Ever considered natives see you same way?
Natives — species born from the world itself, not crafted by divine hands. They aged, we did not. We were designed without decay, while they lived and died in cycles. The idea of aging had only entered the gods' thoughts when the natives appeared. Her comparison made sense: by the time we graduate, entire native civilizations will have risen and fallen, perhaps even some species evolved. To them, we might as well be immortal — though they've seen some of us die.
- Somehow, I think I understand.
- 'N yet, you really don't. See native's too broad a term. Persons, pets, cattle, 'sects, plants, 'shrooms, virus, 'cterias, so on. Lotta 'ffrences here.
- We usually mean people when we say natives.
- Usually's no good. Which's mo' numerous, persons o' 'sects?
- Insects, obviously.
- Why?
- I… never really thought about it.
- Nature's cyclical by nature. Natives are bornna die — were they not, 'ture would. Each species' seat in the next cycle's questioned regularly. Hence a needa 'nvest in future generations. Either through quality o' quantity. Most 'sects 'nvest in quant'. Most 'rsons 'nvest in qual'.
- So person species have fewer individuals who live longer, and insects have many, but each life is brief and replaceable.
- Close 'nough.
- Are there person species that invest in quantity?
- Rarely.
- Why not?
- Technology. 'Ven 'f you 'nvest in quant', at some point you get too advanced. Individuals outlive purpose. Not sustainable.
- Alright… so what's your point?
- Infinity. Native persons to native insects — jus' as immortal as you're a'em.
- I suppose that's not too much of a stretch.
- Not. When you see lots o' 'sects, they're but 'sects. An itchy cloud. A crawlin' rug. 'Sects 'nly hold meanin' as species, not individuals.
- There are exceptions, but fine — let's say that's true.
- True tha'. No matter. 'T's an image. 'Bout our relationship with y'all.
- Your class?
- No. Y'All. Everyone o' y'all.
- You are infinite… and we are insects?
- Yup. But a rug. Naught. Insignificant.
- What a gift. You should check your ego.
- Not ego. Facts. But no matter — time will demonstrate. Wha' matters: sometime outta the cloud, outta a rug, a bug stands out fo' you. You stop lookin' at the species and you look at 'dividual. Wha' changes?
- I don't know.
- 'T becomes mo'. 'T impacts the memory of an infinite being. 'T got no idea, but 't reached for infinity, eternity.
- Not really, you forget about it a minute later.
- True tha'. But impact's here 'n remains.
- So… you're saying that, in your twisted mind, "Little Bug" is a compliment?
- Compliment's yoursa decide. 'M sayin': I've seen you 'n now you're I's lil' bug. Tha' I's gift.
I could not realize it then, but what sounded like an insult was actually a great honor. And she had been waiting for so long to finally say it.
* Ikian months -> about 382 Earth days; Ikian year -> A bit more than 188 Earth years