Verron_Birth of a Nation

by Douglas Varnell

  “Good morning! It’s already 0500 and we’re wasting precious time. Your breakfast is on the table and your clothes for today are on the valet by the closet door.” Paul responded to Computer before he realized it, in perfect Xhondarian, “What’s on the agenda for today Computer?” When it suddenly dawned on Paul that Computer’s wake-up was all done in Xhondarian and that he had known what was spoken and even replied in the same language, he sat straight up in bed with a big grin and said, “Did I just do what I think I did?” Zimuel had just entered the room to overhear the conversation and responded to Paul’s comment, once again in his native tongue, “Today we begin your physical conditioning. Those new muscles need some strenuous exercise to reach their full potential. The park is a perfect place to get in a morning run, so don’t eat too much. By the way, I’m very impressed. Either you are an excellent student or Computer is a wonderful teacher. I suspect it’s some of both.” As Paul slipped on the light-blue sweat-suit and a pair really high-tech looking running shoes, he spied the breakfast table and lost his appetite. He settled for a cereal bar and some sort of red banana-looking fruit. To his surprise, the fruit was pretty good. As he chewed and walked toward the door Paul indicated his approval of the fruit. Zimuel commented, “Of course, the only thing you seem to like so far is not from here. Before long you can have all you want, since it grows naturally in the place we will be spending a lot of time.” Paul asked, “And where is that?” Zimuel answered, “Oh, it’s a nice planet on the other side of the Whirlpool Galaxy. After we get you in shape and teach you all we can here, we will then go to what we call Planet 6192. There are so many planets we just decided to number them instead of naming them. I believe you’re going to like it there.”

  Paul had just finished his fruit and was trying to decide what it tasted like when the elevator reached ground level. He concluded that it was a lot like those drinks he often bought in the Jiffy Mart; strawberry-mango would be pretty close, maybe with a hint of pineapple. This was Paul’s first look at the huge atrium that made up the entrance to the building. There were trees growing inside that were at least 30 feet tall, but still looked tiny in a room that rose some 200 stories above him. It made him dizzy to look up and watch the speeding elevators race upwards. Looking around, the people all looked just like the folks on Earth. There was a fairly even ratio of men and women; he saw no children and there seemed to be virtually no ethnic diversity. At least 75% of everyone he saw had blond or red hair, fair skin and green or blue eyes. He saw no one who looked like a senior citizen and not one person looked overweight. The clothing worn by both men and women tended to be more pastel in color, tight fitting, yet really quite modest. His light blue sweat suit blended in perfectly with others around him as he and Zimuel stepped from the building and directly into the edge of the park.

  Zimuel took off at a fairly brisk pace and Paul immediately struggled to keep up. He then realized that it had been over 5 years since he had last been able to run, and even then, he was very slow. But Paul soon found himself relaxing and adapting to the pace; his legs and his lungs were working like they should; in fact, better than they should and before he knew it he was matching Zimuel stride-for-stride as he began to increase the pace. His breathing started to settle down, his heart-rate began to slow, even though they had now increased the pace to a brisk six minutes per mile. Paul was enjoying the run so much that he didn’t even realize how far they had run until they returned to the front of the high-rise. He looked at his watch and saw that they had been running for nearly 90 minutes. Paul gazed over at Zimuel and realized that he had not even broken out into a sweat, and looked as fresh as someone who was about to begin a run, not someone who had just run nearly 15 miles. As Paul caught his breath, Zimuel patted him on the shoulder and asked, “Which first, the weight room or Jxansa Gha?” Paul gasped his reply, “What the heck is Jxansa Gha?” Zimuel smiled and held up a clenched fist as he answered, “Jxansa Gha is Xhondarian for “Death Fist”. As far as we know, it is the oldest form of martial art in the known universe. It includes bare hands, swords, knives, staffs, bow and arrow and just about anything that can be used as a weapon.” Paul shook his head and muttered, “Weights first.”

  By the time they reached the upper floors occupied by the Elders, Paul was surprised to find that he wasn’t the least bit tired and actually looked forward to working out for the first time in several days. He had always been the kind of man who tried to take care of himself, but lately that consisted of walking a few miles every other day, doing a few sit-ups and lifting his 20 pound dumbbells. As they entered the weight room they were greeted by Bhlani, decked out in a pair of baggie shorts and a muscle shirt, greeting him with, “We will be spending a good bit of time together. Those new muscles of yours will require a lot more work than normal in order to reach their full potential.” Paul stared in amazement as Bhlani spoke. The man could easily compete in the “Mr. Universe” competition. He possessed one of the most perfectly developed bodies Paul had ever seen. “Don’t feel like we expect you to look like me. Between enhancement, years of trying to look like this and genetics, I am what I am. You must concentrate on maximizing your potential, and using what you have to its limit, not trying to be something you’ll never be.” Paul walked over to where Bhlani was standing and shook his hand in greeting as Bhlani nodded toward a bench-press rack loaded with a bar and what looked to be four 50 pound plates. He commented, “You’ve got to be kidding. Shouldn’t I maybe warm up with just the bar?” Bhlani smiled an evil grin and replied, “This is your warm-up. Hopefully in a few weeks we will have you to the point that you’ll need to use the resistance machines over there (pointing across the room to what looked like some kind of torture chamber) since we are limited as to how many plates we can put on a bar. On the machines we have virtually no limit.”

  Paul laid down on the bench and reached up to prepare for the heaviest bench press he had ever attempted; doing the usual hard breathing to prepare for the sudden strain. He then commented, “I’d appreciate it if one of you would give me a spot.” Bhlani and Zimuel looked at each other and replied together, as if on cue, “You’re on your own.” Bhlani continued, “You need to learn how to depend on yourself, not someone else.” Paul, angered by their remarks lifted the 245 pounds off the rack expecting it to come down very quickly, but instead, easily did 10 good clean reps then placed it back on the rack. He immediately sat up grinning, saying, “What the hell did I just do? That’s amazing, can I try more?” Bhlani and Zimuel loaded 4 more 50 pound plates on the bar for a total of 445 pounds. Paul stared at it and laid back down on the bench, more confident this time, and proceeded to do 8 more repetitions; smiling as he placed it back on the rack. He ended up doing two more sets with his final bench press at 645 pounds. “Zimuel commented, “I’ll leave you two now. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t wear yourself out, we still have the entire afternoon to go” then turned and headed for the door. Over the next few hours, Paul and Bhlani worked chest, shoulders, back, biceps, triceps, and finished with legs, where Paul did nearly 800 pounds on the leg press machine. Paul was tired, but exhilarated. As they finished their workout with more crunches and sit-ups than Paul had ever done, Bhlani told Paul, “You’re doing much better than I had expected. Master Tlase truly exceeded our greatest expectations. We have five days left in this week, then, we take a day off for the Sabbath. We’ll move to the machines next week so we don’t waist so much time loading and unloaded weights. Let’s go upstairs and have a bite to eat, then I’ll introduce you to Master Gljarne. He’ll be with you for the rest of the afternoon.”

  As they walked down the hall toward the stairs, Paul asked, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but who is Master Gljarne?” “Why, he is a Master of the oldest form of martial arts in the universe, Jxansa Gha. He has personally trained all but three of the Elders in his fighting style; those three were around when it was developed. We know you took Kung Fu, Tang Su Do, Bondo and even boxed in some Golden Gloves in your yo
unger years, but this will surpass anything you have ever practiced before. Gljarne is without a doubt the best teacher I have ever met. Why he makes pain seem like fun.” Bhlani then grinned and continued, “Didn’t one of Earth’s great leaders once say, “If it doesn’t kill me, it will only make me stronger?” He obviously had never met Master Gljarne.” Paul suddenly was not looking forward to his afternoon.

  Before lunch, Paul took a quick shower and changed into the clothes to be worn for his afternoon training secession. It was basically just a pair of loose fitting pants and a T-Shirt. He again was served cereal bars, fruit and that disgusting drink, however, this time there was a sandwich of some kind. It looked like Deviled Ham spread and tasted like rotten liver. Paul was so hungry he ate two of them and was eating his 3rd Banana/Strawberry/Mango (whatever) fruit as he walked from the room escorted by Bhlani. After sitting for a little while he was beginning to feel a bit stiff from his run and workout. He wondered how he was going to get through what lay ahead. Paul hardly remembered meeting Master Gljarne before. He was a very ordinary looking man who looked to be in his 50’s; which meant he was very, very old. Standing no taller than 5 foot 6 inches, with brown hair and a Fu-Man-Chu style mustache, he looked more like a 19th century intellectual than a Master of the Martial Arts. When Paul was introduced in his dojo, Master Gljarne bowed slightly and spoke so soft that Paul could barely hear him say, “You have much to learn.” Bhlani turned and left the room as Paul stood still wondering what to do next. “Come” was all that was said as Gljarne walked to middle of the room and began to do stretching exercises. Paul followed and tried to immolate what the Master was doing. After about an hour of this they rose and began some moves very similar to Ti Chi. Once again Paul followed and was occasionally corrected in his form by Master Gljarne. They did this for about an hour without a word being spoken. “Now, before I begin to teach, let us see just how much you already know.”

  The Master walked over to the wall and removed two sets of training gloves from a pair of hooks. Paul put his on and wondered if he was going to survive the next few minutes. He was amazed at his own speed and flexibility and was soon feeling over-confident as they moved around the training floor. Suddenly, Master Gljarne moved so fast that it looked like a blur, Paul felt one sharp pain somewhere in the middle of his back and he literally could not move. He was completely paralyzed. The only thing that worked was his eyes as he watched Gljarne walk across the room and pick up a bottle of water. As hard as he tried, he simply could not move or speak. Tears began to run down Paul’s cheek as he thought, “Is this how it ends?” Master Gljarne walked back over and once again Paul felt a sharp pinch in his back. As if he had never been unable to move, he was 100% as he was before. He released a heavy sigh of relief and sat down on the floor. After a moment he looked up at Gljarne and asked, “How did you do that?” The Master handed Paul a bottle of water and answered, “That is Jxansa Gha. It will take time for you to learn, but I can see that you will learn well. You fight naturally; as if you actually enjoy fighting, but I fear you actually enjoy hurting people. This you must learn to control. That’s enough for today. I’ll see you same time tomorrow.” He then turned and walked away, leaving Paul sitting in the middle of the floor to think about what had just happened. It was now 1700 hours and Paul could barely muster the strength to walk the stairs and follow the hall back to his rooms.

  When he entered, he was greeted by the friendly voice of Computer, “Your shower is ready Mr. Verron and your evening meal is being prepared. There will be clothes waiting for you by the time you finish bathing. Master Zimuel has something special planned for you this evening. Later, as Paul exited the bathroom dressed in a robe and a pair of relaxed fitting silk pants, he smelled something that seemed like only his imagination. He rushed to the eating area to be greeted by Zimuel and Master Tlase carrying on a conversation at the table. As he sat down with them he was speechless. On their plates were BBQ Pulled Pork, Potato Salad, Cole Slaw and Garlic Bread. Beside each plate was an ice-cold can of Diet-Coke. The first to speak with a full mouth was Master Tlase, saying, “I certainly hope you don’t expect to eat like this all the time. I thought I would never find “Willingham’s BBQ” in Memphis, TN and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to make it out alive. Memphis was not a nice place. But I must say this is wonderful. By the way, I did bring back a few cases of these Diet-Cokes; I’m keeping one for myself.” Paul was too busy eating to reply, so he just shook his head and grinned. Later, after a desert of strawberry cobbler, also from Willingham’s, Paul leaned back in his chair and asked, “When are you going to explain to me how you do that?” Zimuel shrugged as if he had no idea what Paul was talking about and responded with, “I’m not certain I understand what you are talking about.” Paul leaned forward and asked, “How do you people travel back and forth from Earth to Xhondar I like it was just around the corner. Didn’t you say we are about 50,000 light years from Earth? Being from a world without light speed travel, I can almost comprehend traveling the speed of light or even several times the speed of light, but this is ridiculous. I’m no scientist and my math pretty much sucks, but even I can see that a trip like that should take years; heck I’d even understand if it only took days. How do you step from one world directly into another instantaneously?”

  Zimuel and Tlase looked at each other and then back at Paul. Tlase was the first to speak. “We’ve been doing light speed and what we call F.T.L. (Faster-Than-Light) for thousands of years. About 10,000 years ago Illinasos Xhondar, obviously the man Xhondar is named for, was the greatest scientist of all time. He was one of the Elders and died only a few hundred years ago. He and his scientist developed the anti-matter reactors used throughout the universe and even developed a newer, more efficient white-matter reactor that is only available to Xhondar. Over the millennium, Master Xhondar developed warp speed, discovered worm-holes, anti-gravity reactors, anti-drag shields, jump drives and then developed a device that allows real-time communications, which allows us to communicate instantaneously across multiple galaxies. There is no delay from the time one speaks, or send a written message to when the receiver actual receives it. We can even communicate with a spaceship traveling at warp-speed in real-time, with no delays. As far as we know, there are no other worlds with this ability. Applying this same principle to travel, Master Xhondar created what we call a Gateway; others may call it a portal. By using the Xhondar gateway technology we can transport an individual, a motorcycle or even an entire spaceship from one point in the universe immediately to another, just like we do a verbal or written communication.” Paul looked at both of them and shook his head saying, “I’m not all that smart, but I’m not totally stupid. I have no idea how you traveled back and forth to Memphis, but there was no Gateway on the highway in Mississippi when Zimuel and I went immediately from there to here. How did you do it?”

  The two Masters looked at each other and Zimuel replied, “There are some things that only the 24 Elders can do. Creating a Gateway without any mechanical device is one of them. You will soon learn to do what only the Elders can do to prepare you for the task ahead; we will hold nothing back. Before you leave here, you too will be able to create a Gateway just by using your mind. You’ll be able to control the elements: earth, wind, fire, water, and even the wind. We will teach you how to move objects telepathically and move yourself across shorter distances; let’s say 100 feet to 1000 miles, in the blink of an eye. If you can think it and understand how it is made you can form a fireball, or lightning, even create an earthquake, simple by using your brain. However, for right now we need to focus on preparing you physically, because I’ll warn you right now, the energy required to do all these things is tremendous; no normal human could endure the physical or mental strain required. Hopefully you will soon be strong enough to begin learning these things, but right now, we are getting ahead of ourselves. Is this a satisfactory answer to your question?” Paul rose from the table and replied, “I’m a very driven man. I pro
mise you that I’ll be ready sooner than you two could imagine. I’ll see you in the morning ready to run. Goodnight.”

  As Paul undressed and crawled under his covers Computer commented, “Do you realize that you only used English three times today? It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re speaking like a native tomorrow. Tonight I will divide my time between Xhondarian and Jxansa Gha.” Paul rolled over and replied, “Do whatever you want to me while I sleep, just don’t wake me up before 0500. Goodnight Computer.”

  Even though Paul didn’t get to bed until a bit after 2500 hours, he was still up dressed and ready to run when Zimuel arrived at 0500. Since Xhondar I has a 30 hour day, Paul still managed to get over 8 hours of sleep. He was determined not to wimp out on Zimuel or to be outrun by a man a few millennia old. This morning, in spite of the cool morning temperature, Paul wore running shorts instead of sweats and a T-shirt instead of a long-sleeved jacket from the day before. He felt a little chilled as they walked out of the building, but soon warmed up at the brisk pace he was setting for the run. Zimuel had no problem keeping pace but at least today he was breaking a sweat. Paul estimated that they were running at a 5 minute-mile pace. He had been able to run that fast when he was in his twenties, but for no more than two miles. He tried not to think about what they were doing so as not to jinx his efforts. They ran the very same course as the morning before and managed to finish what took an hour and a half the day before in only one hour and ten minutes. As they approached the building lobby doors, Zimuel said, “Tomorrow we will run a different course. This seems to be too easy and too short. The center of the park has more hills; tomorrow we head there. Our shorter run will allow us a little more time in the weight room.” Paul grinned with satisfaction, knowing that he had accomplished what he had set out to do this morning. He set in his heart the goal of improving just a little each day.