Reaping Recollection (Part IV)
Posted: Wed Nov 24, 2021 3:29 am
7 Ash, 121
The previous day had passed slowly, the second and third meals having been passed to him in a more normal way, wooden or clay bowls filled with nutritious, but not particularly well-tasting mush. This was fine. The doctor had expressed his lack of displeasure, that did not change the fact that Rivin was his property, and as such did not warrant his specific attention on a basis beyond that which was necessary. Letting his property know that he was not displeased was needed to ensure their working relationship did not alter in the time they were apart. Giving Rivin special treatment more than was needed to maintain that was only a waste of energy. They both understood.
A book had been delivered as the next morning had dawned, which had at first perked the part-Lysanrin's interest enough that he thrust himself from his pallet to catch it between his hands. But it was one he'd already read before, more than once. The rapidity and ravenousness with which his mind consumed literature was not something known to anyone but himself. Dr. Ilex did not need to know, and no one else mattered. The doctor would expect Rivin to be able to provide the answers to any number of questions posed, and subsequently answered, within the text. He was already confident in his ability to pass this newest test as he had all (or most) of the previous ones. So, instead of grazing casually through the written words, he set the book aside and instead spent the day working out his body.
He worked through his balance routine, first, flipping from one foot to his hands, then one hand. From one position to the next, holding them for long enough that his muscles strained and he began to sweat, even in the chill of Ash underground. Ensuring he was in shape for whatever came, whatever was expected of him had, of course, also been a lesson from his mother. Once his core was trembling from the exertion, his arms, his thighs, he settled into a cross-legged position, hands relaxed resting on his legs, eyes closing, mind clearing. He could remember in meditation too.
~~~~
Months had passed since the doctor had declared his passing of the first test. They had been filled with his mother's words, what seemed like an endless stream of words that still could not sate Rivin's childish thirst for more. When he had come to the realization of his own reality; that he was something of value because of his form, she had changed the lessons for a time. Instead of giving him more information about the world she called him back into the space of his body, of their cell. He was steady on his feet now, confident in his small stride, no longer toddling around likely to fall on his bottom at any moment. It was time to begin training his body to grow in intentional ways.
She started by having him do stretches every day, seeing how high he could get his hands, how far apart he could stretch his feet, if he could touch his toes while standing, sitting, and with each hand on each side without bending his back. When he had improved his flexibility enough to please her she moved on. Teaching him to jump as high as he could, as many times in a row as he could, having him run in place until he couldn't, several times each day until he could do it longer, and even longer. When she was satisfied with this too she began making him squat down without touching his hands to the floor and then stand again. It was surprisingly difficult and he often couldn't manage it, instead, falling to one side or another. When she saw this his mother called off that kind of training and instead began to make him do odd posses that required him to balance on many different parts of his body. This made less sense to his little mind, at first, but over weeks his tummy grew stronger, his back, and he could hold the poses without wobbling, without falling.
Once he was strong enough to hold the poses as long as she instructed without wavering she went back to the squatting, adding movements where he pushed himself up with his baby-chubby arms. It was hard, and, more than the others, these made him hurt. He complained but she required him to continue. At night, if he was hurting enough to whimper and have difficulty sleeping she would pull him close and rub the pain out of his arms and legs, sing to him her lilting songs, and explain to him that the pain meant he was growing.
He asked how long he would be growing, and she told him, though the measure of time made no sense to him. He asked about time, what the measurement meant. It was a new avenue of information, and she used it, as she had the previous, to compel his compliance. He learned about the measurements of time, a minute, an hour, a day, a week, month, season and year, though they remained abstract since he had no way to mark them in the manner of his life. His own measurements of time; sleep, meals, lessons, began to slowly incorporate the new ones, trying to put them together and see where they lined up. There were three meals and a sleep in a day, seven days in a week, four weeks in a month. When he asked how other people could tell what days and weeks were his mother explained about the lights in the sky, day time and night time, about the stars. She did not know what made the lights, or made them move, unless it was done by the gods, and did not seem at all bothered by her ignorance.
Time began to form as a constant flow in him, even without the benefit of the sky lights to inform him. The measurement, in years, that his mother had explained would be the time he would keep growing seemed like a lot, but perhaps he had passed a lot of it in the time before he had understood time. He asked her how old he was, she explained that he was in his fourth year of life. It was not an encouraging answer. He asked what the difference was between four and the number she had told him was when he would stop growing.
She began to teach him to count. She tried to use his fingers at first, but this frustrated him and he kept shaking her off when she would grasp his little hand and try and show. He said,
"No. Tell me." So, she did. He learned to count, first by memorization, and then by concept. Once he understood the concept he worked out the pattern, ten digits into a grouping, ten groupings into a larger grouping, and so on, plausibly, forever. His mind no longer seemed to hurt when it expanded, he could feel it doing so, but it was less distinct. It made him wonder if, someday, his mind would do it without him noticing at all. When he asked his mother why the groupings were each of ten she had looked down at him with no expression, which meant she was surprised, then explained that it just was. Somethings just were, and this was one of those, like the stars. Questioning this did not occur to him, since he didn't know yet of lying, and had he known he would not have suspected her of trying to keep information from him. Still, his mind was not satisfied with her answer. This gave him something else new; the option that his mother might now know all the things there were to know. He did not say his new thought out loud, knowing, somehow, that it wasn't the right thing to do.
His physical lessons continued, and, then he thought of new things to ask, so did his mental ones, until his little body, while still coated in baby fat, it was not weak any longer. When he slept beside his mother at night he would feel along the muscles of her, much larger, form, and think about the things she had him do, how they were changing him. After a time this caused him to ask if he would be like her when he finished growing. She referred back to her lesson on where people care from, explaining that she was one of the two halves that could come together to create life, and he was the other kind. While he had understood the lesson he had not thought to apply the idea to himself, and it was, briefly, quite a shock to realize that the abstract actions she had described could be performed by him. The questions came rapidly and she was gently amused when she explained that he would not be able to make life himself until his time of growing was nearly at an end. This was a relief, since he would have to live his own lifetime over again several times before that would come about. Even so, he wanted to know, so he asked her if he would be required to make other people, as she had been with his unnamed father. She considered for a moment and then said,
"Perhaps."