Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 11. Chapter 3 - Bread and Circuses 3.1

Bread and Circuses: The Colosseo cheered equally for barbarism and civilization.

I opened my eyes and wiped the damp corners. I had already forgotten the dream's content, but somehow, I felt much more comfortable inside.

I sat up, yawned, stretched my body, and glanced at the slightly bright bluish-purple sky outside the window. I had slept longer today.

As usual, I silently turned over and got out of bed. The moment my feet touched the floor, I released the tension in my leg muscles, springing across half the room and landing lightly by the door. I grabbed my backpack and slipped out of the room.

Keeping my body low, I dashed through the corridors, occasionally twisting my body and swinging my tail to maintain balance, stepping on the walls to change direction, navigating the shortest path at high speed.

I performed agile and fluid movements that could only exist in the imagination, perfectly showcasing my balance and explosive power. It was the epitome of grace, as if gravity couldn't bind me, following only the rules I set. The world blurred into streaks, yet remained vividly clear.

The stance of a psychic-- that's what Qana called it -- abilities that not only controlled external objects but also propelled one's own body, adjusting with precise force. Coupled with perfect perception of airflow, friction, gravity, and the distribution of objects in space, every minute variable could be mastered flawlessly.

Most psychics unconsciously used their perceptive abilities to adjust their movements before displaying the power to control external objects. Therefore, individuals with sensitive minds and excellent physical coordination were often key indicators of potential psychics. However, Qana said he only confirmed my abilities after that wild incident in the shower, where I made too much commotion. My previous unconscious behavior of hiding my abilities left him uncertain about my awakening.

But Qana still wouldn't clearly explain why having abilities would pose a great danger to me, or why he didn't show the same attention to my brother -- Qana knew Piqsirpoq was an psychic.

Although these things didn't really matter, I just wanted to enjoy the exhilarating sensation of the wind rushing past my fur.

Becoming the wind, unrestrained and free.

I still wasn't sure what material this black solid was, only that it conducted heat quickly, the cold seeped into my spine from my back.

"Get up, I know you absorbed the impact," Qana sheathed his sword, sounding a bit irritated. He didn't like wasting time talking. "By the way, nice reaction."

I placed my palms beside my head, curled up my lower body, then contracted my abdomen, springing up from a supine position, standing upright with my tail, and landing back on my feet. Qana watched the whole process silently, not commenting on the extravagant move.

"You've almost mastered the technique of shielding yourself. I think we can prepare for the next step." He focused his consciousness, tapping the "mirror circle" at the outermost edge of my consciousness domain, causing ripples to spread.

Feeling the sword master's approval, I sensed my tail wagging restlessly, like an overly excited pup.

"But the preliminary rounds of the Selection have already started, so take this time to relax and have some fun." Qana sent a probing wave, which was neutralized by an identical wave from my mirror circle, causing it to disappear into space.

"But..." I finally understood that Qana meant to pause our training. "I have no interest in the Selection," I mumbled.

Evening training was usually suspended for the entire Selection process, with most Snows treating it as a rare holiday, fully immersing themselves in the upcoming event -- participation -- something I never understood. But I didn't expect my personal guidance to follow this rule; I might have gotten used to always being an "exception."

"The world doesn't revolve around you." Qana snorted, neutralizing my domain, then walked over and knocked on my head. "Who do you think has to oversee and judge, and prevent you hot-headed pups from killing each other?"

"I don't even know what the Selection is about..." I released my consciousness circle, rubbing my head and complaining. These extra holidays were usually spent in the library, where I enjoyed the quiet, solitary time and the irresistible charm of paper books.

"I know you never care about what happens in the Senate, but this is a bit too much, it's unhealthy." Qana sighed, turned and headed towards the exit, gesturing for me to follow. "When I was your age, I used to get so excited about the Selection, until it became my job." There was a hint of lament in the master's tone.

I followed silently, leaving the secret room with Qana, the black shale closing behind us without a trace.

"Your defense circle didn't activate just now," Qana suddenly said as we stepped onto the stone stairs.

"Uh..." I scratched my ear, feeling embarrassed for not even noticing it. "Right."

"Don't make that mistake again." He continued in a calm tone without turning back. "Do you think I won't hurt you? You should always stay vigilant and protect yourself."

I didn't know how to respond, just feeling a stuffy sensation in my chest.

"But..." I wanted to say something, but the words caught in my throat.

"Someday, you might meet someone truly worth trusting, and together, you will make a profound impact on the world." Qana stopped and turned to me. "I don't want you to... encounter some kind of accident before that." He tilted his head.

"Even if it means never truly trusting anyone..."I don't want to know what kind of 'accidents' he have in mind, and unsure why he hinted that I should guard against him.

"There, there," Qana gave a somewhat sad smile. "Who's talking about 'never truly trusting anyone'?" He ruffled my head, making my ears stand up again.

The sword master turned back and continued walking.

"Aren't psychics able to read others' emotions and thoughts?" I asked quietly, trying to voice my doubt. "Then why are there still... accidents or considerations about whom to trust?"

"What do you think is the meaning of an psychic's existence?" Qana didn't answer directly but threw a new question at me.

"Some kind of... overwhelmingly powerful individual, breaking limitations to achieve near-miraculous feats?" I hadn't really thought about this question. "Is there any particular meaning to that? Isn't an ability just a trait? Like evolution, it has no direction, just a... tool."

"Meaning must be assigned, and only assigned meaning has meaning. We are all just particles randomly colliding in the vast world, but meaning gives us existence." Qana's voice echoed between the rock walls, slightly detached. "One day, you will find the answer to why psychics exist."

Although the sword master's tone seemed to decide the end of this topic, something about Qana's way of speaking made me notice a question I hadn't thought about.

"But..." If the existence of abilities truly had a meaning, it implied the possibility of a higher-level existence. Isn't this some irresponsible fantasy? And what answer would I get? How would I describe and interpret this question? "Isn't existence itself the most practical meaning?"

"Oh?" Qana stopped, turned back to me with a faint smile, and one ear perked up in interest. "Have you been spending too much time with Eulap?" His deep blue eyes gleamed with a playful glint, yet also seemed to search for something. "Then tell me, what do you think about 'existence itself'?"

Qana's low voice resonated within the rock walls, eliciting a certain resonance, like the most thorough self-examination or the purest curiosity, eagerly awaiting my answer.

Void roams, and suddenly, a gleam of light appears.

It is not a beginning but an awakening, a consciousness.

From the sound of cries, the world opens up.

Scorching body heat, delicate fur, a sense of comfort and warmth, and a wet, warm licking.

Touch and embrace, kisses and whispers, snuggling together, like the temperature of golden sunlight beginning to melt the snow.

"Qirnangajuq."

Laughter.

"Stop showing off; I never learned Inuktitut."

More laughter.

"Gray snow."

I opened my eyes, surprised that I had fallen asleep--something that had never happened before.

Noticing that I was lying on the book, I immediately sprang up from the desk, wiping the corners of my mouth to check for drool, fearing it might have soiled the book.

Luckily, there was no damage. I flipped through the pages, thoroughly inspecting it from cover to cover, ensuring it was in perfect condition. Otherwise, the librarian would have skinned me alive. Even though this was a reprinted version based on the library's archives, it was already a century old, and Master Ontara took his duties very seriously. I had no desire to find out if the rumors about some books being bound in wolf skin were true.

Then again, this book was "Atlas Shrugged." It would be hard to make it any dirtier, even if I peed on it. I shivered at the thought of some of its content and wondered if steel wool could scrape the memory from my brain.

Qana had mentioned that psychics could manipulate memories, so maybe I could try that sometime.

Gathering my things, I slung backpack over my shoulders and handed the book to the robotic arm on the shelf, letting it check the book's condition and reshelve it.

"Changing tastes?" On my way out of the library, Master Ontara looked up from the terminal, a rare occurrence.

"Exploring different perspectives of the world, or something like that." I found a noble-sounding answer and praised myself for my bravery. "Understanding different viewpoints might help with... communication."

"Young pup should keep an open mind." Master Ontara grinned, making me wonder if he was mocking me or telling some joke only he understood.

"But..." I hesitated, then turned back to the master's desk. "Is it really possible to understand each other, these... fundamental differences?" I asked the question that had been bothering me for a long time.

"It is possible." The librarian pushed his glasses up, and the changing display text reflected in his eyes, the celestine-like irises flashing various light spots that made it hard for me to maintain eye contact. "Objective facts are the basis for dialogue and discussion. Even if the stances are different, it is possible to negotiate a solution acceptable to everyone." He stuck out his tongue and continued, "At least, it was before the 'post-truth era' began."

"How did they finally... resolve the issue?" I had heard of that era, one of the darkest periods in Gaia's history. "What allowed people to start communicating again without throwing the whole world into a experience machine?"

"Oh, trust me, they almost did that." The librarian laughed, taking off his glasses to wipe the corners of his eyes.

They?

"But that's Klin's job; I don't like to meddle in others' professions." Ontara winked at me and gestured towards the library exit, indicating I could leave as he continued working on the terminal.

I had more questions, but after sensing the unusual vibration, I bowed to the master and left.

It was a wave--Master Ontara had tried to achieve some effect on me using a vibration I didn't recognize, but it was neutralized by my mirror circle.

I made a mental note of the pattern, moving slowly down the empty corridor and pondering.

Psychics could perform various miraculous things, but specifically, what were they? How many had I not even considered? And just among the Snows, how many psychics were here? How many had I missed, and which ones, as Qana had said, could be dangerous to me?

What about beyond Hadrian's Wall, beyond the Senate, and the world? Even though I didn't care about the Senate, I couldn't say I truly understood the outside world, let alone the parts related to psychic. I started to understand why Qana said we didn't have much time.

I silently resolved that once Qana had the time, I would thoroughly ask him about the community of psychics and their relationship with the world. I no longer wanted to fumble through this incomprehensible world under a curtain.