August 21st, 2125
"And there are just so many questions," you said, half-collapsing into the comfortable chair in one of the Institute's staffrooms, reaching out with an effort of will and Practice to pull a mug of something hot and laced with caffeine into your hands from the refreshment table on the far wall. It ducked between the steady movements of other staff and you looked over at your co-worker before nodding towards the cup as it slid into your hand. He shook his head with a smile, far too awake for someone who had just gone through a full day of trying to teach young Potentials how to access and apply their Practice. Ernest was an old hand at this, the teacher a veteran of the Third Awakening and gifted with a Focus very similar to your own, though quite different in how it applied itself. Renewal wasn't all that different from Mending, but it was more focused on bringing something new out of what had been, instead of just rebuilding it. That difference was part of what had made Ernest such a gifted tutor during the Third Awakening, and it continued to do so today. It also meant that he was used to acting as a primary responder to several dozen children
"Amanda," he sighed, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you sip reverently from the cup nestled in your hands. "When are you going to stop pretending to rely on that," a nod to the mug prompted a mock glare in his direction. "We both know you don't need it, caffeine barely does a thing for us."
You glowered protectively, taking another possessive sip, and his lips twitched again. Then again, you knew something he didn't. "On most of us, Ernest. Unisonbound can bend the rules on a lot of things. Caffeine is one of them." For a moment, all he could do was stare.
"So you're telling me," he paused and you nodded encouragingly. "That you use a device capable of letting you defy at least half of the laws of physics."
"Mhm?" You chirped innocently.
"To drug yourself." Your glower ratcheted up to gigawatt level. It didn't help. Ernest started laughing, and you idly considered the benefits of pouring the half-full mug of coffee you still had over his head. But that would be letting him win. Instead, you took a slow, dignified sip and let your frown lift into a sweet smile.
"Jealousy does not become you." You told him as his laughter wound down into intermittent chuckling, taking another sip. He barked a few, quieter, sounds of amusement, and you felt your smile shift into one that was considerably more real.
"It is funny," he pointed out, without malice. "When you think about it, I mean. Using," you rolled your eyes.
"You'd do it too," you volleyed back amiably, and he shrugged.
"Maybe, maybe," his smile matched yours. "But then, I'd have to have had the sort of power Siddhartha's given you long enough to consider using it for such," a pause so deliberate it was almost audible, "recreational purposes."
"Be careful what you wish for," the amusement in his gaze flickered a moment. "We're closer than you think," you added, tone leached of humour despite your smile. "No promises, of course, and I don't think we'll get the level of success we had with the initial run, but even so."
His eyebrows rose very quickly. "You're serious." It wasn't a question.
"If our projections are right," you made a vague gesture back towards the classrooms you'd come from. "They might grow up into a world where Platforms are the norm, not the exception."
"That's what you've been struggling with," he burst out, and you looked up sharply. He just shook his head at you. "You've not been yourself, Amanda. We've worked together before, and there's been something tugging at you since midway through the year. It's stronger now, though. You discovered something, didn't you." Once again, not a question.
"Yeah," you nodded. "We're close, Ernest. And I'm trying to work out how to prepare all of them," another gesture, "for the possibility of that sort of strength. Even with everything we've put into the selection process for synchronisation, ensuring that people who go forward with it are prepared for the consequences of being able to use that sort of power," you trailed off, taking a breath to gather yourself. "They're kids, Ernest. We can't just…offer them that, knowing that it'll mean tossing them into the grinder a decade from now."
"Those we're teaching now won't be children then," the man pointed out, yet lines creased his features as he spoke, settling a weight of years upon his youthful face in keeping with those you'd both lived. It was a subtle thing, but one that you knew, too. After the Second Secret and Prologue removed the scourge of age, humanity found ways to make it present on their own. "The Third learnt to fight at their ages, Amanda. We can't protect those who wish to take up that burden by refusing to let them."
He was right, of course. But that didn't make admitting it easy. Not when you were responsible for preparing them for that possibility, when at the same time you simply couldn't do so completely. War in the way that the Unisonbound fought it was unique in a way no words could describe. It was a clash of will against all the creations of a lethal civilisation older than humanity itself. The differences between being a soldier aboard a warship of the FSN and how the Two Twenty Three did battle were immense. Easy to see, yes, but far harder to explain; like Speaking, in a way. And yet, you'd taught that.
But only to adults, a part of your mind cried, and few of them possess Focuses that will bring them into direct combat. It would have been easy to convince yourself of that, but that didn't make it the truth. It was different because those people had volunteered. They knew the risks, the costs. Did these kids? The answer hit you hard. Perhaps you should have asked yourself that, when you Awoke to your own power.
"I ask myself sometimes," Ernest's voice surprised you, lined with an age you knew all too well. He'd followed your own thoughts, somehow. "But there's little enough we can do for those like we once were, except teach them. And," he shrugged sadly.
"And if that requires showing them what they might one day have the choice to become," you continued in weary voice, for a moment heartsick at the truth you knew you couldn't deny. "We owe them that. Even if the explanation is imperfect. We owe it to ourselves to at least try. So that they can make the most informed decisions they can."
"Potentials are rare creatures," Ernest added. "They can create things that even our greatest scientists are still struggling to understand, decades later. But the truest creation of a Potential is what we truly are. We make ourselves vessels of the power our Focus gives us. The only time we've seen that break is with death, Amanda. It might be hard to explain what might lie in our pupils' futures, but they'll survive it. They need to know. And you're the only one who can really help them in this."
It was unfair of him to say that, you thought. But it was also true, just like everything else. You took another sip from the mug in your hand, and looked down in surprise to find it empty. You hadn't even noticed. Saying he was right wouldn't be helpful. But you could say something that would be.
"Then I'll just have to find a way to teach you, and the others." He blinked, but you weren't paying attention. Maybe one of the new Speakers could help… It would be a worthy test of their skill, and all for the future. If you didn't act to secure that, then what right had you to the present?
The Spoken Word: 38 + 48 = 86. Success
The Fourth's Path: 60 + 48 = 108. Synergy Greater Success
(Training of second set of Speakers complete. Woken Fourth education improved, chance of building upon it if action is taken again.)
