Genius || Variable thirty-two

Spruce sat on the ground, with his head between his legs, and his hands on his head. He was dizzy, and he tried to control himself from vomiting.

“Are you okay?” Yew asked after he walked up to his neighbor.

“I feel sick,” Spruce responded.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, moved his head to the side, and vomited, receiving some ewwws from the nearby students, who didn’t like what they saw.

“Are you sick?!” the voice of the approaching teacher made everyone stand aside. “You don’t have to come to class, if you don’t feel well,” Cacao said, as he came closer. “Take him to the clinic,” he commanded Yew, who stood by Spruce. “I excuse both of you from today’s class. Just for confirmation, Spruce Fire and Yew Sky?”

“Yes, professor,” Yew answered.

“Good, then. I’ll mark your absence as excused today. Just go, already.” Then he turned to the other students and said in a loud voice, “everyone else, get inside the classroom, or I’ll give you negative points for being late.”

The students quickly hurried inside the classroom. Meanwhile, Spruce slowly stood up with Yew’s help and, as they began walking away, the teacher took a final look at them, nodded with sympathy, then also entered the classroom.

“Which way is the clinic?” Yew asked.

“How do I know?” Spruce responded, then added, “it’s fine. I’m not sick. That ride was just crazy.”

They stopped walking and Spruce pointed at the grass under a tree. “I just need to sit down for a bit, and it’ll go away.”

Both boys sat down on the grass under the tree. There were no other people around them, because students and teachers alike were already inside their classrooms holding classes for another hour.

Spruce kept his head down between his legs, and Yew was just quietly sitting next to him, while observing the empty roads, and wondering how odd it felt to be alone in such a vast labyrinth of buildings.

After a long time of rest, Spruce finally felt better. “Let’s go to Sorrel’s class,” he said, then slowly got up. Yew did the same.

Spruce’s legs were still tired from yesterday’s run, so he knew that he couldn’t walk fast. However they weren't far away from the History building, and with the extra time, which they had, he could slowly get there on time.

“So how did you happen to meet with that tutor?” Yew asked, after Spruce began walking.

“I woke up late today, and when I was on my way to class, she saw me and asked me, if I was skipping class. I told her that I’m late and I'm in a hurry. Then she dragged me onto that bench and before I could get off, the bench started flying.”

“She dragged you? Without asking if you want a ride or not?”

Spruce confirmed with a nod.

Yew thought for a moment. He remembered the first time, when Chervil came over to the classroom and introduced herself. She certainly appeared like a rather odd type of a person, and the latest story from Spruce made Yew even more afraid of the gal. He decided that he would stay away from her as much as possible, even if he had to skip Exercise classes every Wednesday.

The two of them arrived early to the Process class. The door was closed, because the previous class hadn’t yet finished. The boys sat by the wall. However they didn’t have to wait long, because soon the classes had ended, and the door to classroom B was opened from inside. The girls of the first year began stepping out and heading toward another classroom. Among them was Wasabi, who didn’t spot the boys, because she was busy talking with another girl from her class.

After all the students had left, Spruce and Yew got up from the ground, and entered the classroom, which was empty except for the teacher, who sat at her desk. Spruce quickly headed for his desk, while Yew took a moment to look around. Being the only two students in the classroom had an interesting feel to it, and Yew couldn’t quite tell what it was.

However, the quiet moment didn’t last long. Soon their classmates arrived. The room became full of students as usual, and the lecture started.

“Now that everyone can use magic, or their magical items,” Sorrel smiled at Spruce, “let us move on.”

She knocked on the board and two words appeared: «concentration», and «stamina».

“As you already know, concentration is necessary to start magic, and stamina is necessary to continue using magic. All of you had some stamina and some concentration, when you first came to Hecate. However, not all of you had enough to make magic happen, which is why you struggled to perform magic in your first week of school.”

She walked up to the word «concentration» and slid her finger under it. A vertical list of ten labels appeared from one percent until ten percent.

“Magic concentration is divided into three ranks: bronze, silver and gold. Each rank is further divided into percentages. Hundred percent of bronze rank is required to graduate Hecate. Hundred percent silver rank is considered to be a professional magus, and hundred percent gold rank is, well, rare.”

She took a moment to quietly look at her students. “When you first walked in this class, your concentration was somewhere near zero percent. It takes about one percent of bronze rank concentration to shake a pen, and in order to advance to the second year, you’ll need to have at least ten percent bronze rank concentration by the end of the school year.”

She turned back to the blackboard. “But concentration isn’t enough.”

She slid her finger under stamina, and once again a vertical list of labels appeared. This time, it started at zero percent and went up to five percent with the intervals of half a percent. “Stamina is also important. To measure stamina we use stamina levels. The lowest one being zero percent, which is that of a newborn baby. Thirty percent stamina is the average for most adults. Anything beyond that is considered above average levels of stamina.”

She faced the class once again. “You need at least five percent of stamina in order to graduate the first year. If you fail the minimum requirements in the magic concentration rank or in the stamina level by the end of the year, you’ll have to either repeat the year or find another school.”

She walked up to her desk. "So today, we’ll check your current concentration rank and stamina level.” She pointed at an alarm clock on her desk, “this is a stamina clock. As you see, it has percentages from zero point zero until one point zero. When your stamina goes over one percent, then it will do another circle. So, if any of you have a stamina of three percent then the clock handle will make three circles.”

Then she pointed at something, which looked like a thermometer, “this is a basic magic concentration indicator. It can be used to measure bronze rank from zero to fifty percent. I’ll read your namehoods, so if you hear your name, I want you to come to the desk, and move this pen,” she pointed at the pen on the table. “When you do that the magic concentration indicator will calculate your concentration, and the stamina clock will measure the amount of stamina you possess.”

She read out the namehood of the first student, and when he came up to her desk, she addressed him and the class, “make sure you give your best, or your results will be lower than actual.”

The student did try his best and received zero point seven percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. Sorrel noted down the results and called out the next person, who received zero point five percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. This pattern went on for another five people, who ranged between zero point five to one point two percent on stamina and between one to two percent on concentration.

Sorrel called out Linden, who came up to the table, and levitated the pen with ease. The stamina clock ranked four point six percent and the magic concentration indicator showed fourteen percent. The whole class couldn’t believe the results, and Sorrel shook her head in disapproval. With a scorn on her face, she wrote down the results. And when Linden was on his way back to his desk, she said to him, “please come to my office in the afternoon.”

Several namehoods later, Aspen was called to the teacher’s desk. He returned back with one point four percent level of stamina, and a whole eight percent bronze rank in concentration.

After all the magic-talented students were called, Sorrel called out Yew’s name. He came up to the teacher’s desk totally stressed. He didn’t know what his results would be, but he prayed that it wouldn't be anything higher than Linden’s. Trying to control his power as much as he could and use only the minimum of it, he slowly shook the pen.

Sorrel noted Yew's results: zero point seven percent on stamina and one percent on concentration.

Yew couldn’t feel happier how perfectly he managed to fit in with the average students around him. He returned back to his desk feeling blissfully relieved.

Last to be examined was Spruce. When he walked up to the teacher’s desk, Sorrel looked at him, and said, “oh yeah, your tool uses fire. Instead of floating the pen, please set it up on fire."

Spruce did just that. The pen burst into flames, and Sorrel looked at the stamina clock, which ran a full circle, and then another one and stopped at two point nine percent.

She took a quick look at the magic concentration indicator, and so did Spruce, who was so surprised that he stopped his magic. “Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, ready to redo the flame, but Sorrel stopped him.

“It’s fine,” she put her hand over the pen, which wasn't even charred. “I already saw the result. Four percent,” she took back her hand, and wrote down both numbers next to Spruce’s namehood in her register book.

All students were beyond words, and many of them also looked at Linden, who simply rolled his eyes. Yew looked at Spruce, then at Linden, then back at Spruce, as he recalled Juniper’s words: “there are two kinds of geniuses in the world, those who start earlier than anyone else, and those who start later than everyone else.”

Item || Variable thirty-one

Spruce stood in front of Sorrel’s office inside the schoolmanor. He was here two weeks ago in order to help Sorrel move the boxes from her office to the classroom, and at that time it was a lot of fun, but today he came prepared for the worst.

In his head, he could already hear the teacher tell him that he has no talent for this; that he should consider going to another school; that if he cannot succeed by next week, he would be expelled. Having his lifegoal destroyed like that was going to be painful, but he couldn’t change the inevitable, so after standing still for quite a long time, he finally found the courage to face his fate. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The door magically opened with a soft swooshing sound, and Sorrel welcomed him with two words: “come in.”

She was walking around her office room arranging some documents from her desk back onto the shelf. After Spruce walked in, she pointed at the chair in front of her desk and warmly invited him, “please, sit down.”

Spruce sat and waited. In the meantime she kept looking through some of the documents in her hand.

Eventually Sorrel cleaned the documents off her desk and put them back onto the shelfcase. Then she sat down on her chair at the other side of the desk.

“I’m sorry that you had to wait," she started. "Can I see the magical item, which you've bought last week?”

Spruce quickly nodded his head, and put the dagger on the table.

“Oh," Sorrel was slightly surprised. "I should have expected that from a boy." She pointed at the item, "so even with this dagger, you still cannot float a pen, huh?”

Spruce nodded once but firmly.

“What kind of magic does it have specifically? Sky magic? Air magic? Wind magic? Gravity magic?” she listed the most likely options.

Spruce blinked in confusion.

Seeing his reaction, the teacheress explained, “well, I haven’t taught that yet, because magic variations are many in number, but when you were buying this item, the seller should have told you its magic variation.”

“I don’t know,” Spruce quietly admitted, but then he recalled what happened when Linden used it. “I think it may be Fire magic,” he added.

“Fire magic? Oh, then that explains why you couldn’t float a pen.”

After Spruce heard Sorrel’s statement, he looked at her in hope.

“Fire cannot float objects,” she continued. “At least not by itself.” She took a pen from the basket of pens on her desk and put it in front of Spruce. “Instead of trying to float it, try to set it on fire.”

Spruce furrowed his eyebrows, and concentrated.

“Don’t forget to hold it,” she reminded him about his magical item.

Spruce put his hand on his dagger, and imagined setting the pen on fire. A spark appeared, then another one, and three more sparks twinkled consecutively before a flame burst out and surrounded the whole pen.

Sorrel snapped her fingers above the burning pen, and the flame disappeared in an instant.

“I don’t want you to burn my office,” she said with a sweet smile. “But other than that, it’s a pass. I recommend you practice under the sink.”

Spruce looked at the burned pen, and couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Do you have any more questions?” Sorrel asked the boy.

Spruce looked at her, then back at the pen.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She touched the pen, which returned back to its preburned state. Then she put it back with her other pens. “As long as the damage isn’t extensive, it’s always easy to fix.”

“I can use magic,” Spruce still couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Yes, you can. And if you have no more questions, you can go back and practice more. I expect to see it again tomorrow in class.”

“Yes, professor, thank you,” Spruce responded then got up the chair. He was already on the way out, when Sorrel once again reminded him of the dagger, which was still laying on her desk. He turned around and before feeling too embarrassed, he took the dagger and quickly left the office.

Outside, he couldn’t contain his euphoria. He ran through the hallway of the schoolmanor, and got yelled at by some of the teachers, who didn’t approve of anyone running around or near their offices. However, Spruce didn’t stop to listen to their preachings. He continued to run.

Right after he exited the schoolmanor, he jumped up as high as he could, and screamed, “God-made!”

A lot of students and teachers looked at the boy, who just ran off as suddenly as he ran out of the building. Many smiled with an understanding. They all knew that something very good must have happened to him.

The phrase “God-made” was a common phrase used by those, who experienced something awesome. Some linguists claimed that it was an abbreviation of the sentence, “God made a miracle”, while others sought the explanation elsewhere. The phrase itself had been used for so many centuries, that no one really knew where it came from, but the meaning behind it had never changed. It was always the expression of unlimited joy.

Spruce kept running through the schoolground without taking a break to rest. He passed different buildings, students, and teachers. All of whom looked after the runner with questioning countenances, not knowing the purpose or the cause of his run.

He only slowed down, when he arrived by the hamlet, not because of close proximity to his home, but because his stomach muscles began to hurt.

When he finally entered the living room of his cottage, Aspen, who sat at his desk on the left side, looked up from the textbook, which he was reading.

“So how was it?” he asked.

“God-made,” Spruce answered with the last bit of breath, which he had, and fell onto the sofa.

“That’s good,” Aspen responded then went back to reading.

Spruce, who didn’t sleep well the night before, fell asleep on the sofa right away. He woke up later on, when it was almost dark outside. Aspen was already in his bed, so Spruce quietly took a shower, and while doing so, he kept recalling the meeting with Sorrel. He couldn’t get enough of the warm feeling of success burning inside him.

When he was dressing up into his pajamas, he imagined the reactions of his friends tomorrow in class, and he couldn’t wait until the night was over. He hid himself under the comforter and giggled like a bride the night before her wedding. Not realizing when, he fell asleep with a big smile on his face.

And while he slept, the new day arrived.

He felt someone take off his bedcovers, and heard Aspen talking to him.

“If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll be late to class.”

He opened his eyes, and saw that Aspen was already up and ready. It didn’t surprise him, because Aspen was always up and ready early in the morning.

“What time is it?” he asked, while rubbing his eyes.

“Look at the clock,” Aspen pointed at the round clock above the door.

Spruce slowly turned around his head. However, when he saw the hour, his lethargy immediately disappeared and he began to dress up ultra-fast.

“I’ll be going ahead,” Aspen said before he left.

Spruce quickly finished dressing up. He didn't have enough time to eat breakfast, so he went straight to the entry room, put on outdoor shoes and ran out. But as soon as he left the cottage, he felt a quick sharp pain in his legs. The fatigue from the crazy long run of yesterday took over his body, and he couldn’t move well.

He believed that he could still make it on time, if he walked, so he began the difficult journey toward the classroom. His body gave him signals that it would rather rest than walk, but he didn’t want to give up. When he was halfway to the classroom, he felt a sharp stab in his side and he had to make a stop.

“Skipping class?” a female voice asked him from behind.

He turned around and saw Chervil Sun walking around leisurely at a time, when most students ran as fast as possible to make it on time to their classes.

“My legs hurt,” Spruce said.

“Take a day off,” she suggested.

“I don’t want to.”

“What resolution,” she snorted with fake admiration. “But your hands are fine?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yeah?” Spruce didn’t know how it was related.

“Which building are you heading to?”

“History building, classroom A.”

Chervil took him by the arm and pushed him onto a nearby bench. “Then grab on,” she said and also sat down.

“I have to go,” Spruce began complaining, but stopped, when he realized that the bench started levitating.

“All passengers aboard, please hold on,” Chervil said like a kid playing a bus conductor. “We take no responsibility for passengers, who accidentally leave the plane mid-flight.”

Spruce grabbed the bench and held on as hard as he could. His intuition was telling him that he wasn’t going to like it. When the bench was at the height of about five meters, it suddenly moved forward at a speed, which was way too fast for a travelling bench.

“Oh no,” Chervil shouted, “the speed limit is only twenty kilometers per hour. Our car has exceeded the speed limit,” then she looked behind and said, “we’re being chased. We must increase the speed.” Instead of slowing, the bench moved even faster and faster, taking sharp turns around the buildings and among the trees.

Spruce began to feel sick after six or so turns, but before he had a chance to throw up, Chervil announced, “we’re sinking, the boat is too heavy.”

The bench began to slow down and flew downward toward the ground. It suddenly came to a halt, and while it was floating right above the ground, Chervil shouted, “remove excess baggage!” before she threw Spruce off the bench right in front of the History building, classroom A.

All the students, who didn’t enter the classroom yet, were staring in surprise at the method of arrival, which Spruce had acquired unwillingly. Meanwhile, Chervil stood up on the bench and declared, “this is a pirate ship.” The bench once again began floating up. Chervil pointed into the distance and shouted, “the treasure is right ahead,” and the bench quickly flew away.

Test || Variable thirty

Then came the eighth day of Byzh, a Monday morning, which had arrived way too fast. The students headed to their classes, and nobody could understand why Linden was so happy early in the morning.

When they were close to the History building, Spruce asked him, “what makes you so happy? Your negative hundred twenty-five points?”

“Who cares about homework points?" Linden shrugged. "Free food is only for test points,” he responded and walked into the classroom with a smug face.

After Cacao Bark arrived, the students greeted him and he greeted them back. Then he walked up to his desk and tapped it twice. Upon his action, a pile of papers appeared on top of his desk next to his hand. He grabbed the first answer sheet.

“For those of you, who don’t know. Any score of ninety percent or more grants you seven days of free meals in the cafeteria. Since this test was for a total of hundred points, this means anyone, who scored at least ninety points, will receive from me a free meal pass. Let me start, Aspen Breeze, ninety eight points.”

Aspen walked up to the teacher and got back his answer sheet together with the free meal pass, which looked like a small sticker, which he could stick onto his student badge. The sticker was less than two centimeters long and had the word “bread” in the center. Aspen stuck the sticker at the top of the number one in his student badge, which he kept on his chest.

The students started to accustom themselves to the school's tradition to openly announce their scores together with their names, so no one reacted strongly to it anymore. And no one was surprised at Aspen’s score, because he always had the highest score.

One by one the students took their papers.

“Yew Sky, eighty three points.”

Some more names were called, then...

“Linden Cave, hundred points.”

It was the first time someone received hundred points, and most students thought that they had misheard the name, but when they saw Linden walking to the front, they could no longer doubt their ears.

Before Cacao handed Linden his answer sheet and the free meal sticker, he warned in a rather threatening voice, “allow me to remind you that your total score is still negative twenty five points. You won’t pass this class with a negative score."

Linden showed no reaction, and upon receiving his items, he nonchalantly went back to his seat.

Afterward the teacher read the next name, “Spruce Fire, thirty two points.”

It was the lowest score in the class. And even after all the names were read, the second lowest score was only fifty six points. Spruce couldn’t hide how horribly he felt. He remained silent throughout the class, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk, even when they headed to the much nicer Process class.

There, Sorrel Cave walked up to each student, checking if they succeeded moving the pen. Everyone, except for Spruce, succeeded in magic, and that included Yew, who shook it twice, a bit faster than he intended, but the teacher didn’t see anything odd about it.

No matter how many attempts, Sorrel gave to Spruce, the boy couldn’t do it, and he ended up to be the only student, who had a mandatory afternoon meeting with Sorrel in her office. Yew felt sorry for him, but he had no means to help him, so instead of accidentally hurting Spruce with words, he kept his mouth shut.

During lunch in the cafeteria, Linden paid for Yew’s and Spruce’s meal, and tried to cheer up the poor magicless student, “did you hear that a bad beginning is a sign of a great ending?”

Spruce however remained gloomy, “if I don’t finish the first year as a top student of my class, my father won’t allow me to attend Hecate anymore.”

“Ignore your parents, and chase your dreams,” Linden declared. “Don’t let others tell you what to do.”

Spruce narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, but Linden looked totally serious, so Spruce didn’t say anything in response.

After the meal, they went to the Exercise class, and were surprised to see Juniper Root, with a bag in his left hand, leaning on the wall near the entrance, and no sight of Maca Waterfall.

“Come in, come in,” he said. “Welcome to the greatest class ever.” When all the attending students went inside, Juniper closed the door and walked right to the center of the room, “so you wonder, where’s Maca, I bet. Our tutoring group had a meeting yesterday and arranged a schedule, which will allow us to have more time for our own studies.”

He turned his body around, taking a good look at everybody in the class. “Since you’re only first years, there ain’t much to teach you, so each day you’ll have a different tutor. Monday it’s me – Juniper Root, Tuesday it’s Chervil, Wednesday it’s Beech, Thursday it’s Maca, and Friday it’s Sage. On Saturday, it’ll be whoever volunteers.”

Then he rubbed his hands, “so unlike last week, by today you ought to know a little bit of magic, so let’s do this...” He took the bag and turned it upside down. A rain of green leaves fell to the floor.

“Make them levitate,” he said, “like this...” And then all the leaves began floating up and then around the classroom.

“I don’t expect you to move them all at once,” he said, while the leaves began moving toward the students. Then each leaf fell on the head of a different student. “It’s one leaf per student, so you only need to move your own leaf. When you succeed I have a little reward for you.”

The students took the leaves off their heads, and began trying. All except Spruce, who didn’t even bother removing the leaf from his head. Juniper saw that and came over to the boy. “What’s up?” he asked.

Spruce looked up at him, and said, “I cannot do it.”

Juniper squatted next to him, took the leaf of his head, and held it in his hand, “why do you say so?” he asked genuinely curious.

“Because I couldn’t even shake the pen in the classroom.”

Juniper blew air at the leaf, which changed color from green to orange. He let go of the leaf, which floated and rotated sunwise in one place, right in front of Spruce.

“You know, not everybody gets accepted to Hecate,” he said. “Do you know why?”

Spruce shook his head sideways.

Juniper moved a finger forward in the air. The leaf moved closer to Spruce, and landed on his lap.

“Do you remember your last day of kindergarten?” the guy asked.

“Somewhat,” Spruce answered. “We had a test, but it wasn’t scored. We had to write answers to some questions. They were testing us on orthography and reading skills.”

“The copy of those answers were sent to Hecate together with the application,” Juniper stated.

“So what?” Spruce was getting agitated.

“Do you remember this question: Is there anything in your life, which you want but cannot have?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you answer?”

“Yes.”

“Just one word?” Juniper smiled, and Spruce nodded. “You know, some people write more than that. They write many details about their dreams. However, all schools around the world prioritize those, whose answers are short or mysterious. Can you guess why?”

Spruce slowly shook his head sideways.

“Because if someone keeps his dream a secret, it’s because his dream is far bigger than possible. They don’t want others to laugh at them.”

“So what?” Spruce got irritated by the unhelpful chat.

Juniper stood up and looked at other students, who were practicing hard with the leaves, then he looked back at Spruce. “There are two kinds of geniuses in the world, those who start earlier than anyone else, and those who start later than everyone else."

Right after he said that, he walked away before Spruce processed the sentence.

Juniper approached another student, who already managed to float his leaf. “Good job,” he complimented the boy, and from his pocket he took out a candy.

Yew, who sat nearby, heard the last comment Juniper told Spruce and furrowed his eyebrows. He wondered how geniuses could start later than everyone else, because that couldn’t make them geniuses, but the very opposite - incompetent failures.

The Exercise class ended with twelve students successfully floating their leaves. Spruce sat the whole time, while doing nothing, and Yew wasn’t even trying. He decided to practice later in secret, with nobody around.

After the class ended, Spruce went to see the teacher, while Yew and Aspen went back home.

Back at his cottage, Yew decided to tell Linden about the Exercise class, “you know, today our tutor wasn’t Maca. It was that other guy, Juniper.”

“Hmm…” Linden responded, barely interested. He was lazily lying on his stomach on the sofa, and hugging a pillow under his chin.

“And he said something super weird," Yew continued. "He said that there are two types of geniuses, those who start earlier than others, and those who start later than others. Weird, right?”

“Sounds about right,” Linden murmured into the pillow.

“How is it about right?” Yew furrowed his eyebrows again.

“He said that about Spruce, yeah?” Linden raised his head a bit, and Yew nodded in answer.

“Then you’ll understand tomorrow,” Linden ended the conversation, and without any further explanation, he put his face on the pillow and ignored the whole world.