Chapter 48. The Ambidexterity Project (Patreon)

The walk back to the barracks was surprisingly lively. The cadets were riding an absurd high. The adrenaline from using their abilities was still pumping through their veins, washing away the last traces of exhaustion. I felt a strange surge of energy myself, especially when I looked at Ted. My trainee had finally stopped looking like a thundercloud. He had managed to jump in the shower, change into fresh clothes, and was now radiating his usual cocky confidence again. Thank God the morning disaster involving his stench and Mary’s disgusted expression had been forgotten.

I let out a silent breath of relief. If it had not been for that sudden training session with Sam, Ted would have spent the rest of the day looking like someone had confiscated his favorite game console, and tomorrow’s classes would have turned into torture. I already had a plan for fixing my coaching screwups tomorrow.

“Hey, what were you even doing with Sam out there?” Nick asked lazily, folding his hands behind his head as he matched his friend’s long stride. “Weren’t you supposed to be testing those theories Langstrom wrote up in your file?”

“What d’you think I was doing?!” Ted nearly tripped from sheer outrage and almost crashed into Louise walking ahead of him. “Were you guys even watching?”

“Well, from the outside, it looked more like a regular fistfight,” Nick admitted honestly while adjusting his glasses. Louise, walking beside him, nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“That was range and fire density testing!” Ted exploded, waving his arms around. “If I’d actually wanted to zero Sam out, he’d already be cooling off in a morgue, got it?”

I could not help myself. The most condescending smile naturally spread across my face, the kind adults make when they listen to teenagers brag about taking down special forces soldiers barehanded.

To my genuine surprise, I caught the exact same look from Mary. She glanced at Ted, then at me, and there was that familiar understanding in her eyes, the kind that usually connects people who know the real value of things. Our gazes met, and I could almost physically feel an invisible thread of solidarity stretch between us.

Yeah. Who would have thought the only “adult” person in this entire group I would end up on the same wavelength with was a twelve-year-old girl.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?!” Ted stopped abruptly and aggressively pointed a finger at us.

“Oh, nothing. Just curious.” I immediately returned to my calm expression. There was no point provoking the guy with extra arrogance. “So what theories were you actually testing? Because Nick’s right. It looked like you were trying to pelt a master with snowballs.”

Ted immediately deflated, and frustration crept into his voice. “Basically, the file says I can fire concentrated plasma. Like a cannon. But in reality, they shoot out like fucking grenades. I spent the whole hour trying to produce even one beam, but all I managed to do was squeeze myself dry.”

“At least you got lucky,” Louise suddenly said, her shoulders slumping. “You can actually drain your reserve. I didn’t even get close to half during the whole session.”

“That’s because you were supposed to use your unique ability instead of just floating around,” Nick cut in. “Until you learn to make solid air platforms as confidently as Tom or Mary, you’re not draining your tank in an hour.”

“But my ability’s so... stupid,” Louise nearly whined. “I’m embarrassed to show it off.”

“What kind of secret superpower is it?!” Ted instantly forgot all about his own frustration and leaned forward eagerly. “Come on, tell us!”

“You really need to see it for yourself,” Nick interrupted with a sly gleam in his glasses. “Tomorrow’s my turn to torture Sam anyway. Louise is going to drain her reserve, and you, plasmaman, are finally gonna witness her true talent.”

Chatting lazily like that, we eventually made it back to the barracks. There was still plenty of time before dinner. The guys immediately headed off to the library. Judging by their excited shouting, a serious video game tournament was about to begin there.

I sank onto my bed with relief. The mattress creaked welcomingly under my weight. I pulled Selina’s folder out from under the pillow and finally opened it.

The folder was massive. The thickest one in the entire group, even beating Louise’s file. Nick and Ted had less paperwork, while Mary had received a skinny envelope that looked like it contained a single sheet of paper advising her to eat well and listen to her mother.

I started flipping through the pages. Every sheet was packed with dense blocks of printed text written in dry, emotionless scientific language. Selina had not lied. This was not a textbook. It was a full catalog of insane hypotheses and reckless assumptions.

One theory made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

OBJECT: TRAINER (TOM ROSS). DIRECT STIMULATION HYPOTHESIS.

Based on data indicating that the growth of the [Trainer] level directly depends on the development of the [Familiar]’s attributes, it is proposed that accelerated growth through artificial intervention should be considered. Recommended options include surgical modification of muscle fibers or the use of high-intensity experimental steroid regimens. Considering the Object’s abnormally high metabolism and proven regenerative capabilities during the Healing Sleep phase, the risk of fatal side effects is considered minimal.

WARNING: INDEPENDENT EXPERIMENTATION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. FOR ACCESS TO MILITARY PHARMACOLOGICAL PROTOCOLS, CONTACT PROFESSOR LANGSTROM PERSONALLY.

A chill crawled across my skin. Selina was seriously proposing turning me into a lab rat and pumping me full of hardcore military chemicals just to see whether my level would increase. The worst part was that, knowing how this system worked, it might actually succeed.

I turned the page.

BIOLOGICAL ADAPTATION PROTOCOL.

Taking into account the Object’s ability to control physiological processes at the cellular level, it is recommended to initiate a program aimed at developing absolute immunity to all known Earth pathogens and toxins. After completion of the Earth adaptation cycle, testing with alien poisons should begin immediately. Presumably, this may serve as a trigger for unlocking the Evolution branch.

Selina had approached the issue with terrifying thoroughness. The following sections focused on mastering abilities that, in the normal world, would have been considered legends or circus tricks. Controlling body temperature through thought alone, consciously stopping the heart, mentally blocking pain receptors... It all sounded like something out of an old kung fu movie or stories about Tibetan monks.

But in my case, it was not mysticism. My power allowed me to master any skill fundamentally accessible to the human body. Which meant that, theoretically, I could become a perfect biological machine. Assuming I survived Selina’s experiments first.

I spent a long time going through the folder, studying every line. The excitement kept building. I wanted to try everything at once, test the limits of my new body, but there was one problem: the camp had no internet access. Without a connection, many of the more complicated instructions were nothing more than meaningless text. I kept turning the pages until my eyes caught on a section that actually looked doable here and now.

COGNITIVE REPROGRAMMING: HEMISPHERIC SYNCHRONIZATION.

Based on data indicating that the [Trainer] is capable of rewriting human memory modules, it is recommended to perform a forced recalibration of the motor cortex for equal use of both hands. Objective: achieve absolute ambidexterity.

WARNING: Leave a sticker in the library to receive the ambidexterity development manual.

The idea was insanely cool. If this worked, I would be able to fire weapons with both hands at the same time with identical accuracy. Just like in those old action movies I grew up watching, except without the Hollywood effects. Pure efficiency.

I peeled off the sticker, which still carried Selina’s faint perfume scent, some strange blend of citrus and medicinal chemicals, and headed for the library.

The place was noisy. The guys and Louise had occupied several tables and were battling through some zombie shooter over the local network. When they noticed me, they gave me quick nods without taking their eyes off the monitors. Nobody even bothered offering me a spot in the game. Moments like that made the invisible wall especially obvious. No matter how much we trained side by side, to them I would always be the adult guy, never one of the gang.

“This is for me,” I said quietly, handing the sticker to the librarian.

He reacted instantly, as if he had been expecting it all day. Instead of a book, he pulled out something closer to a thick research packet, a stack of articles and printouts bound together. The text was full of links to online resources where the information had clearly been copied from. Apparently, Selina was not particularly concerned about copyright laws or proper formatting.

It made me curious where she was getting all this material. Either she occasionally sneaked into town to some rundown internet café, or the officers’ dorm had a private connection cadets were not supposed to know about.

I returned to the barracks, away from the gamers’ shouting and the noise of virtual gunfights, and buried myself in reading. I absorbed information about how neural pathways form naturally in people born ambidextrous and the exhausting drills ordinary people spend years using to imitate the same result.

The day slowly drifted toward evening. All mandatory classes were over, and dinner in the cafeteria passed uneventfully. It was only seven in the evening, but I had already changed out of uniform and stretched out on my bed. What I planned to do required time and complete silence.

[Special Command: Apply ambidexterity development algorithm to the brain’s neural network. Upon completion, initiate hibernation mode until 05:00.]

It was a double command, another trick from Selina’s folder. And, damn it, it worked.

The world instantly went dark. My consciousness sank into thick, heavy blackness, but somewhere at the edge of perception I felt strange vibrations. It was as if thousands of tiny electric impulses were firing through my left arm, making the muscles twitch almost imperceptibly. The last thing I registered before losing awareness completely were system notifications:

[Trainer presence is optimizing neural restructuring process...]

[Training efficiency increased by 400%]

I opened my eyes at exactly five in the morning. No grogginess, no burning dryness in my eyes. The [Special Commands] had worked perfectly. My body felt completely refreshed, and my mind carried an unusual clarity.

The first thing I did was grab a pen off the table with my left hand and open a notebook. The tip touched the paper, and I quickly wrote several sentences. The words came out smooth, the pressure steady, and the handwriting was almost indistinguishable from my normal right-handed writing. Yes. It worked.

Still, there was no time to celebrate. I had a trainee who did not even realize his morning was about to start way ahead of schedule.

I got dressed quickly. My movements somehow felt more symmetrical now. Then I made a quick trip to the cafeteria and walked over to Ted’s bed.

“Rise and shine, soldier. Time’s up.” I gave his shoulder a light shake.

“Mmm... what? Already?” Ted let out a yawn so massive I became genuinely concerned for his jaw. His eyes were bloodshot. Apparently, he had stayed up gaming half the night. “Nick, get up...”

“Shh.” I pressed a finger to my lips, cutting him off. “Nick’s still got forty more minutes to sleep. We’re heading out.”

“What d’you mean?” He stared at me blankly, blinking while trying to focus.

“Exactly what I said. Yesterday proved we weren’t meeting the required standard. You need more time to get the hang of things, so we’re starting earlier.”

“How’re we even getting out?” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. “The sergeant’s got the keys. The barracks stay locked until six, Tom.”

Without a word, I pulled out a ring of keys from my pocket and gave them a light jingle right in front of his face. The metal flashed coldly in the dim morning light.

“Where’d you get those?” Ted instantly woke up. His eyes widened. “Tom, did you steal ’em?”

“I made arrangements,” I answered shortly, without elaborating. “If I’m responsible for your physical training, then I decide when we train. Here, drink this.”

I handed him a protein shake I had grabbed from the cafeteria. The thick vanilla-smelling mixture was perfect fuel.

“Trust me, it’s better to fill the tank before we start killing ourselves out there. You’ve got five minutes to wash up.”

While Ted was dragging himself awake, I briefly spoke with Nick, who had woken up from our conversation, and explained that we were leaving for an early session so he would not start panicking.

[Special Command: Execute optimal training cycle for Ted.]

That same jump-cut effect hit again. For a few moments, the world around me turned into a kaleidoscope of fragmented images. There we were on the field. There I was correcting his stance. There he was doing another set on the parallel bars under my supervision. When my awareness snapped back into real time, the first thing I did was check the clock. 07:50. Damn. We had trained for a little over two hours this time.

But the interesting part was not the time. Ted did not look like a beaten dog. Despite the intensity, he was not gasping for air or drenched in sticky sweat like a soaked rag. On the contrary, his skin was flushed, his muscles looked energized, and there was a healthy spark burning in his eyes.

“Ted, are you sure we actually trained just now?” I asked skeptically while studying him. “You look suspiciously happy.”

“I’m shocked myself!” He flexed his arm, showing off his swollen bicep. “My muscles hurt, but it’s... y’know, the good kind of pain. Not like yesterday, when I just wanted to crawl under a fence and die.”

“So what’s the difference, then? Why was yesterday a disaster while today worked so well?”

“I dunno, Tom, honestly.” He scratched the back of his head. “Guess I finally figured out what you actually wanted from me. I didn’t waste energy screwing around or redoing exercises ten times. Seriously, great job, coach! Let’s hit the showers and then the cafeteria. I’m ready to eat an entire bull.”

I smiled despite myself. The feeling was familiar from my civilian life. If a workout did not leave you nauseous from exhaustion but instead gave you a monstrous appetite and the urge to conquer mountains, then the training had hit exactly the right target.