Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Wound up derailing myself yesterday, when thinking about lack of progress and shit not existing here and now led me to pondering on how it took over a century for here and now to shake off coin flip infant mortality. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I still don’t know for sure if most of the Alliance is getting the kind of basic medical care and hygiene that makes that awful shit go away. I gotta ask Saffron about that. Not, like, to make sure she’s remembered or anything like that. Somehow I suspect my zesty zealot has shifted her main focus of Worship from ’deep fried Deities dunked in my Maw’ to ’Children Live’. Can’t say I’m super upset about that, either.

No, I mainly need to ask her to see if there’s anything I can do to help. Anything I might be able to think of that she hasn’t, because it’s something so ubiquitous back in my birth world that I never think about the fact that it’s just not here. Electrical power is one of those things, although from what I can see here and now isn’t likely to have the same kind of power grid I remember from back in the day. Way more likely to jump straight to local power generation, whether that’s solar, wind, water, or those handy Mana powered electrical converters they’ve got in the belly of the Black Dragon.

At any rate, more derailing there, since my whole assed point wasn’t really specifically intended to be about infant mortality, or power grids, or anything like infrastructure or really even technology.

Something that I’ve noticed the edges of time and again, but didn’t really get until I started teaching, and it took until yesterday teaching the Newark Cadets for it to coalesce into something I could express in words.

Then again, it might just be me, since I never really understood the concept of ’institutional knowledge’ before. Which, for those hard of thinking in the audience, is what I just realized is the thing that’s missing here and now.

That’s not entirely fair, either, because it’s clear that there are some institutions that have survived long enough with enough coherence to start building a body of knowledge. Most notably, the Clergy of various Deities seem to all know shit, although in that case it’s more a factor of each of them telling their Deity shit, and the Deity then handing that information out like the resource it is. I mean, they hand it out like a non-renewable resource, which if we’re talking about secrets it is, but there’s other shit that isn’t really best when kept secret.

Like, yeah, some kind of knowledge of how to make a better weapon might be a good thing to keep secret. Maybe. So your folks are more likely to survive. But even there, if the secret is ’steel’, that also could be used to make way better plows, or bridges, or buildings. Shit that makes infrastructure better, which just makes everything better for everyone, assuming it’s not gatekept. But there’s other stuff, like basic hygiene and germ theory, where keeping it to a small group of people is a recipe for disaster. You don’t fight diseases with hazmat suits and rebreathers, you fight it with hygiene and knowledge of how vectors work and interrupting them.

Fuck, I think maybe my Reason going up has let me really understand some of the shit I read online back in the day, or even some of the stuff I ignored in science and history class. I mean, I can do quadratic equations in my head now, which is just fuckin’ weird as shit. I have to think about square roots to approximate them, especially the ones that aren’t recurring decimals, but I can figure them out in my head. That’s some funky shit to realize, and yeah, I’ve been reading that math textbook I stole. Not sure if I’m really understanding all of it or just fooling myself, but even a little knowledge is better than none, right?

Yes, I know, but I also am a dangerous thing.

Y’know, that’s another bit of institutional knowledge, and it butts right up against the one that really brought things into focus for me. Teaching. Not just, like, mentor to protege, but teaching groups of kids all at once. There’s gotta be, like, techniques for that shit.

Also, and this is equally important, there’s counterintuitive shit out in the real world. Things where because our monkey brains are constantly trying to categorize stuff as ’food’, ’predator’, ’mate’, ’fun’, or ’confy’, we wind up not really understanding how shit works. We evolved to do a small group of things really well, and if that kinda exploded in a good way when some part of our DNA decided to code for ’abstract thought’, we still wind up with all kinds of things where we look at something and see shit that isn’t there, or miss shit that is. Like the poison being in the candles, because nobody notices the lights in the room.

Meanwhile my train of thought has decided to go in a loop de loop, but I’m still gonna chug on through to the idea that along with knowledge of how to teach groups of people, which isn’t really as instinctive or intuitive as mentoring, which is just parenting for adults if you ask me, which makes Operation Gold Watch just a lot more sus, but I’m still gonna do it and no I will not confirm or deny if that makes it even better, but I’m humming little seven syllable tunes to myself as I’m writing, and I’ll leave better or worse as an exercise for the reader. Not that there are any readers, because this is my fuckin’ Diary, and also a notional object I think about when I’m lying awake at night or some shit, not an actual physical book.

I don’t think it is, anyhow. I’ve never actually laid eyes on it, but who the fuck knows, there might be some massive tome of every instance of me muttering to myself somewhere in M-Space.

Back to the point, because I did have one, one of the things that institutional knowledge lets us do is teach the new generations how to avoid those counter-intuitive oubliettes, tar-pits, and outright traps. Because there’s just so much shit out there like that. Back in the day when I still fantasized about being an author, I read a line about how fiction authors need to avoid the verb ’be’. Didn’t get it at the time, but I did start watching, and when I was reading fanfic, the stuff that really let me finish before I threw the book down in frustrated disgust had way less conjugations of ’be’. Probably why I kept having to get my phone’s screen replaced, since I didn’t own too many physical books, and throwing a phone down in frustrated disgust is just a recipe for shattered screens.

So yeah, I realized that shit I do here and now in the classroom and Practice Yard just would not fly back in the day, and while some of it makes sense, maybe even all of it, it does not paint a pretty picture of the reality I grew up in. Then again, sometimes those things, those rules, are emplaced by folks other than the ones they’re imposed on, so maybe it just paints an even uglier picture of what the folks in charge would do if they were in the instructor’s place.

Like yesterday in the Practice Yard, by mid-afternoon I’d gotten utterly disgusted with my Cadets. Sixteen Cadets in four teams for Squadball, with one lancaster and one squadball given to each of them, and every single fuckin’ match ended faster than any I’d ever seen. Cadet Chip Citron’s team won all of them. Still gotta ask OG Citron if he’s a relative. At any rate, After the second win, I rearranged the teams so he was on the one that had gone out first the first two games. Then I shifted him again when his team won again.

After doing that like three more times, I’d gotten a little frustrated. Check that, I’d gotten a lot frustrated. It wasn’t Chip’s fault in any meaningful way. He wasn’t even that much better of a player, not in any kind of ’faster, stronger, harder’ kind of way. He just wasn’t... Timid. At any rate, after the last match, I called them all back to the center of the Yard.

”Okay, Cadets, this isn’t working. You can’t learn squad tactics if your squad doesn’t tactic.”

A hand shot up. The Cadet under the hand had a buzz cut, but the name on the tag was Mary. ”Cadet Mary?”

”Isn’t this Physical Training?”

I kinda suspected what she was gonna say, but I gave her some rope. ”Your point?”

She just nodded and said, ”shouldn’t we be learning tactics in Combat Training?”

I smirked at her. ”Lancaster hasn’t got you playing squadball yet?”

She shook her head, frowning. ”He has us doing spear drills.” Her frown deepened into a kind of scowl that told me she wanted to be mad, but didn’t feel safe being mad at the person she was mad at. ”Like Levies.”

I chuckled and shook my head, wondering just a little if I was feeling all right, because I was about to do Lancaster a favor without him ever knowing or feeling indebted to me. Then again, I wasn’t doing it for him, per se, but for the fuckin’ Cadets. ”You know what kind of weapon Lancaster uses in the field?”

She snorted. ”A spear?”

I nodded. ”Yep.” I summoned up my Swordstaves. ”Like this.” I twirled it, then separated it and sent one away. ”Or really, closer to this, but with like three times the handle length.”

She frowned. ”Really?”

I nodded. ”Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, swords are cool as shit, but a sword adds maybe two feet to your reach.” I saw a bunch of mouths opening, and cut them all off with, ”yeah, there are bigger swords, and longer swords, and all kinds of fancy shit, but the basic swords you guys are gonna start out with? Two feet, more or less.” After a moment to let that sink in, I looked at Mary and said, ”spears can give you a shit ton of reach, depending on the spear. I’ve heard up to twenty feet, but those are kinda specialty weapons like those advanced swords. But even a decent normal spear is gonna give you three or four feet of reach.”

”Does that matter?”

I smiled. ”Would you rather face me at this distance,” I stepped to about two pavers away from her, ”or this distance?” I stepped forward again, this time within easy reach of her.

”Understood, Ma’am.”

I sighed. ”Yeah, not sure if you really feel it yet, but you’re back on the path. Short version, for those of you with a brain in your head, a spear is probably a way better weapon. General Lancaster is a thinking fighter. He’s always thinking, always planning.”

”Do you use a spear, Ma’am?”

I chuckled. ”Do I look like a thinking fighter? Nah, I’m an up in your face kinda gal. I’d say I use knives, but mostly I use whatever I can get and just wreck shit. I’m kinda the opposite end of the spectrum once blood starts to fly. But I respect his methods, because they work for him.” After a quick moment for them to think I stepped back to my spot and sighed.

”Okay, my point here is that the reason you guys do all this Physical Training?”

I waited, and another Cadet, this one with a nametag reading ’Seoirse’. ”Because a strong body makes a strong mind?”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud. ”Where the fuck did you hear that bullshit?” Before he could feel some kinda way, I shook my head. ”I mean, to a certain degree it tracks, because if you’re actually sick, it’s gonna make you stupid. Same if you’re exhausted. So we gotta train you guys up to where you can do all kinds of physical shit and not get sick or be exhausted. But the whole reason we gotta do that is that out in the field you’re gonna have to do crazy shit, including taking some crazy abuse, and still need to keep your brain thinking.”

”That brings me to the whole reason I stopped you guys. How many of you have been in fights.” Citron’s hand shot up. Mary’s twitched, like she wanted to raise hers, but didn’t. ”Street fights count. Shit, anything where fists or worse wound up swinging counts.” Mary’s hand shot up, as did maybe two thirds of the rest. ”Okay, how many of you got your asses beat in those fights.”

Every hand in the Practice Yard dropped. Mary, again, kinda looked like she didn’t want to lower it. I sighed, shook my head, and started pacing a little. Then swapped out my uniform for The Dress. Gave me a little more height, a lot more confidence, and definitely showed off my scars a lot more.

”Yeah. That’s the problem right there. You guys looking at me right now?”

That got a general call of ’yes Ma’am’ from all of them.

”Okay, you have my explicit permission to look below the neck.” Funny, a lot of them kinda gasped when they did, which meant they hadn’t really looked before, not even glanced. ”Yeah. This is the shit that happens out in the world. Because you guys aren’t training to be meter maids, or traffic cops, or even Guards. You’re training to be Heroes. Which means you will always be right at the front in any conflict.”

I heard Chip mutter, and heard what he said, but I knew his friends hadn’t. I was in his face a second later. ”What was that, Citron?”

”Nothing, Ma’am!”

I shook my head. ”Don’t lie to me, Cadet. It’s a bad plan. Now. Repeat what you said so the whole class can hear.”

He took a deep breath, then in less than a shout, but still a clear projecting voice, said, ”our Heroes didn’t, Ma’am.”

I stepped back so they all could see me. ”Yeah. About that. Y’know what happened to them?”

”They died, Ma’am.”

I grinned my most evil grin at him. ”Yeah. I killed them all. Because they hid like little bitches, and it pissed me off.” As the class kinda reeled, I laughed a little. ”Don’t worry, you guys aren’t anywhere near there yet. But you’re all flinching. That’s why all Chip here had to do was jump, and you flinched, and he took you down. You guys all happy about that?”

”No, Ma’am!” The only surprising thing about that reply was Chip joining in as loud as the rest.

”Okay then. Cadet Citron, front and center!” I pointed at the paver intersection at my feet, and stepped back as he sprinted forward, putting his toes on the intersection. ”Right face!” He looked at me blankly, and I shook my head. Institutional knowledge. ”Turn to face to your right, Cadet.”

When he’d done so, I called out, ”Cadet Mary, get up here!” When she did, I lined her up to Citron’s right, then tapped his cheekbone. ”Okay, Cadet. I want you to punch Cadet Citron right here. Hard as you can.”

””Ma’am?” Citron sounded a little put out.

”You telling me you can’t take a punch from Mary here?”

He stiffened up. ”No, Ma’am!”

”Good.” I turned back to Mary. ”Get to it, Cadet.” Then back too Citron. ”Don’t duck. She might miss your cheek, and I’m not as good at Healing teeth or noses.”

Her form was, in a word, terrible, but she hit him hard enough to knock him sideways half a step. I Healed him. Then I sent her back and cycled up the next Cadet. Fifteen Cadets later, Citron looked a little disheveled, but not bruised or even bloodied.

”You good, Citron?”

”Yes, Ma’am!”

”Want me to take a swing?”

”NO, Ma’am!”

I laughed. ”Good call. Return to formation.” He darted off, and I called out, ”Cadet Mary! Front and center!”

Yeah, the rest of the afternoon was spent just letting them get hit. Letting them learn that Healing was available, and pain wasn’t scary. I mean, that was a lie, but it was absolutely a lie that somebody in our line of work had to tell themselves on the daily in the field. By the fifteenth hit, even the most timid looking of the Cadets wasn’t flinching. At least not as bad as the first one.

Then I had them all do knuckle pushups until dinner. Gotta work their pain tolerance along with the whole not flinching thing.

All of that made me realize that there had to be a better way to teach all of that, but the thing is, the institutional knowledge in Newark, and cultures are institutions just like any other group of people, said to flinch. Not duck and respond in kind, not soak the hit and smile like it wasn’t no thing, but to flinch. To cower. I had to train that out of them at least as much as I had to train their Strength, Endurance, and Agility. And I had no idea what the ’normal’ way to do that was, because I didn’t have that pool of institutional knowledge to draw on.

I’d asked duBois about this before, too. Not this thing specifically, but about training, about teaching, and he never mentioned anything about this in particular. Which meant that the reason I didn’t have that institutional knowledge was that my mentor hadn’t passed it on to me, because it didn’t really exist here and now.

I mean, I was still gonna ask him next time I talked to him, because maybe he just forgot. He’s the me to Lancaster’s Saffron, after all.

Holy fuck, I just had the weirdest thought. What if Lenny and the Marshall had been each other’s Secret Graduation Requirement.

At any rate, got home, got surprised by some dumpling like pasta Marie made. Not gnocchi, but something potato based, I think. She served it with a variety of sauces, all of them with some kind of protein in, although one of them I think it was bean, and another had egg. Very different. Still awesome, though, and if some of the kids wound up experimenting with mixing sauces, only to discover that they were not, in fact, culinarily more advanced than Mother Maid Murder Mittens Marie, they still ate it all.

The whole family slept in the Bath tonight, and I dreamt of my ladies just lounging. They looked maybe exhausted, and I didn’t start anything enthusiastic, athletic, or acrobatic, just massaged them gently with tentacles as they dissolved into smiling, gooey messes.

In the morning I pulled Saffron aside. ”Hey, you guys okay? You’re looking tired.”

She smiled at me. ”I know this sounds funny, but it’s a good tired, mostly.”

”Huh?”

”When there is some crisis, we spend most of our time on high alert, ready to leap to the defense of the Alliance, or more likely to transport those defending it to where they need to be. But most of that time is, while stressful, not actually physically or even mentally demanding. Meanwhile in times of relative peace, like now, we’re all working to implement improvement. Which while not as harrowing, can be both physically and mentally exhausting.”

I frowned. ”Anything I can help with?”

She shrugged. ”Nothing that your Clergy and the laborers and craftsmen hired by the Alliance can’t do just as well, if not better.” At my pursed lips at that last, she laughed and said, ”plumbing is a skilled trade, not one that you could learn in an afternoon, love.”

”Bet?”

She laughed again. ”You’re so eager to give up your time teaching our children and training our Cadets that you would dig sewers?”

”Yeah, I think I’m good being a Math and Phys Ed teacher. Remind me to reward you all when you’re done, though. Done and fully bathed.”

That got me a laugh and a kiss from her and the rest of my ladies before our day started.

Oh, another neat institutional knowledge thing that I should have remembered but forgot, because it had belonged to my teachers back in the day, when I wasn’t really a teacher. While kids often self-select into ’good at math’ and ’good at art’, not only are the kids here a little less dedicated to that dichotomy, I’d forgotten how many of the art kids back at Eastside lit up when they finally made the connection between ’geometry’ and ’pretty pictures’.

Yeah, the kids are getting really into describing pictures with equations.