The sound of blows landing, a rhythmic, thudding sound echoed through the cabin from the basement. This lowest floor of the house took the form of one large open plan room that served as storage, entertainment space and a gym all in one. A man cave, in the purest sense.

In the corner of the large space hung a heavy bag, around which Chris was slowly circling. Punches thundered out, impacting the bag from every possible angle as the frustrated young man poured his frustrations into exercise. The basement was a storm of exertion and sweat. After a continuous five minutes, he flopped backwards onto the carpet.

Groaning, he hauled himself up to a sitting position. With a heavy anticipation, almost dread, Chris checked his status screen.

Status

Ongoing Effects: Neurotransmitter Imbalance, Caffeine Addiction, Exhaustion

Shifts: Intelligent Design 0/20

Skills: Boxing 1

Unallocated: 1 point

“Yes!” he shouted to the heavens, hands thrown to the sky before once again flopping onto his back.

Congratulations. I take your celebration to mean that you have earned your first reward point? Over the course of the evening, it had become apparent that Sarah could hear and see him anywhere he went, which was astoundingly creepy. Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to. He slowly sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Yes, finally. And it only took…” Chris deflated as he slid his phone out of his pocket to check the time, “Three and a half hours.” Hunching forward, arms between his knees, he unlocked his phone and opened the calculator app.

Earlier, when tinkering around with his status menu, Chris had found that he could bring up any possible shift just by thinking about it, to see how many points it would cost. The costs varied from the reasonable, such as “Corded Musculature (Increased Strength)” at 50 points, to the “Superman Package”, at a number so staggeringly high that Chris immediately blanked it from his memory and stopped thinking about it.

“At this rate, it’s going to take most of my break to afford the cheapest one!” he accused, as he glared at the calculator.

Yes. If you continue training in this manner, it is unlikely that you will progress very far in your natural lifespan.

Chris thought on that for a moment. He stood, and slowly made his way to the mini-fridge to grab a water bottle. “Well that just doesn’t make sense.”

I am afraid that it does, in fact, make sense.

He scowled. “You know what I mean. Am I going about this wrong? Have I been bashing my head against a wall for no reason?”

This was a rhetorical question, as he already knew that he had been. He tried gaining a number of skills before finally spending his last hour on boxing. Over the course of the evening, he had attempted to gain skills in running, cooking, one-armed combat (i.e. hitting a tree with a stick), and even singing.

Not wrong, just inefficient. I believe that you are attempting to raise your skill through the methods you have previously employed in video games.

Alright, she had him pegged. He slumped down into his uncle’s overstuffed black leather couch and laid there for a bit before responding.

“Well, what would you recommend?”

Would you like assistance in earning your first skill levels?

“…Sure.” Chris wasn’t above taking the tutorial.

Excellent. First, go to sleep. You are exhausted.

****

The next morning, Chris found himself running. He wasn’t entirely out of shape, and his boxing coach had him do his fair share of running in high school, so he found himself with time to think.

“You know, I never asked. What do you get out of this? Why come to earth and give us… this?”

That is beyond the scope of what I am permitted to explain to you, Chris. Do not allow yourself to become distracted.

Chris frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Why not tell us why? What do you stand to lose?”

It is not the case that I do not wish to give you a proper explanation, Chris. I believe my masters in the universal council will send a representative in order to give a more thorough explanation when the planet is fully integrated.

That sounded… fishy. Still, Chris thought, their purposes probably aren’t nefarious, or why would they arm their future enemies? What would be the point? He kept running down the driveway, his feet beating out a steady rhythm on the gravel, dense woods spreading out on either side. The treetops soared above, blocking his view of the sky, lending the day a gloomy feel. If not for a few shafts of sunlight spearing through the canopy, he would have no way of knowing it was morning.

Heart pounding, breath beginning to come harder, he reached the tree branch he had dragged into the driveway that marked a mile out. He stopped, and turned back towards the cabin. He hunched down, taking a moment to catch his breath.

I was under the impression that your goal was to become superhuman. Was I mistaken?

He grimaced, and ran.

****

Good. Keep your shoulders low and loose, and try not to sway.

Sarah had been giving him feedback on his form all morning, making adjustments one by one. He had never had a running coach before, and it was a novel, if exhausting experience. It helped that she was apparently an expert on human physiology.

Do you feel the difference that makes in keeping your upper body relaxed?

He grunted in affirmation. Chris had stopped responding using words an hour of running ago. Despite the exhaustion, he was glad for Sarah’s constant ministrations. If he had been left to his own devices, his traitorous brain would have made him stop working long ago in order to hyperfocus on something else.

His traitorous brain. God, he hated it. His inability to hold focus and make himself work without constant oversight had alienated him from some of his favorite teachers, tanked his grades and cost him his scholarships. He was surprised that he had even made it to junior year of college.

You may stop to rest.

His feet slowed to a stop. He was back in front of the cabin for the umpteenth time today, and hadn’t even noticed. There were some benefits to being wrapped up in his head, he supposed.

The porch was wet with the morning mist having settled down, but he couldn’t care less as he sat. Arms draped over the railings support bar, he called up his status screen.

Status

Ongoing Effects: Neurotransmitter Imbalance, Caffeine Addiction, Mild Exhaustion

Shifts: Intelligent Design 0/20

Skills: Running 4, Boxing 1

Unallocated: 5 points

Chris just about fell off the porch.

It had taken three and a half hours of experimentation to get one skill point last night! Now, he had gotten four in what, two and a quarter? His face fell into a tired grin as the obvious explanation came to him.

He looked up. “Skill levels are based on how much you understand what you’re doing, aren’t they?”

If a disembodied voice could smirk, she did.

Very good.