Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

  “Oh, nothing,” came the nonchalant response, belying its accompanying action as Dunner reached past Kelerin into the cubby. “Just looking for… ah yes, isn’t this your thesis?”

  OK, thought Kelerin, maybe Dunner had done some training of his own over those same years.

  “Dunner,” said Kelerin, menacingly, “if you value your life and those of your unborn children, you’ll put that back.” He made a swipe for the paper but Dunner deftly switched the document to his right hand while using his left to ward off an increasingly impatient Kelerin. Safe at an arm’s length away, Dunner began to read:

  “‘The Potential Extrapolation of WateRen Philosophy and Technique as Applied Toward Wave Whip Combatives: Theory and Practice.’ Wow, Kel. Sounds awfully interesting.” Dunner made an exaggerated snoring sound that brought on another lunge by Kelerin. Dunner whirled around and leaped up onto Kelerin’s bed, avoiding the grab yet again.

  “Great, and now you got your filthy boots all over my sheets. When are you gonna grow up, Dunner?”

  Completely ignoring Kelerin’s protestations, Dunner said, “You know, this is pretty revolutionary stuff here, Kel.”

  “Yeah? It’s also six months worth of painstaking work so quit play’n around.”

  “I don’t think the world can wait for the perfectionist in you to feel this is ready for submission.”

  “Dunnerrrr.” A warning.

  “We have a moral obligation to share this with the administration immediately.”

  “Give it back, Dunner!”

  “Yup. That’s what we’re gonna have to do.”

  “GIVE IT BACK!”

  Kelerin made a third lunge, onto his bed this time, but Dunner Vaulted over Kelerin’s head and bolted out the door. Pushing himself off the bed, Kelerin took off after him a good three seconds behind.

  ... And she followed.

  *****

  The Academy was situated on a small and secluded island plateau with straight cliff faces plunging into the Telorn Sea on all four sides. This inherent natural barrier created a de facto isolation, an ideal breeding ground for the highest qualitative form of academia. But isolation can come with a price.

  The confining campus, the rigors of routine and the constant pressure on Students to perform at the highest levels of academic excellence brought with it a restlessness manifesting itself in a rather boisterous atmosphere outside of the classroom. Every sitting Faculty since the Academy’s founding had accepted this reality. As such, tradition, reputation and prestige, all had to step aside and make room for the occasional testosterone fueled chase throughout the institution’s hallways, every now and again.

  The chase currently unfolding between Kelerin and Dunner wound its way along a labyrinth of corridors snaking throughout the Academy, which like the Student dormitories were primarily made up of that wonderful sheethem wood. The floors, walls and arched ceilings carried with them an ever present air of import and the weight of tradition could be felt at every turn. Often it seemed to Kelerin as though the old Teachers and Professors of the past had been absorbed into the walls where they continued imparting the values and lessons of the Academy to the young Students migrating through its spirited halls.

  At the moment, though, Kelerin was unable to hear any old voices or their lessons, as they were literally being smothered underfoot by Dunner who was running up and along the side of a wall for several steps to bypass a phalanx of 8th year Students traversing the corridor shoulder to shoulder and blocking his path. Kelerin chose to somersault over the same group when he met the obstacle, now a mere second and a half behind and gaining ground.

  Once passed the phalanx, the two approached a crowded staircase and Kelerin cringed, helpless to stop Dunner from sticking his thesis between teeth in order to leap onto the staircase’s wide railing and speed crawl his way up past a stream of Student’s descending in the opposite direction.

  Among the Students already standing at the base of the stairs was fellow Final Year classmate, Maxy. Kelerin called out ahead, “Maxy, boost!” Maxy was friendly with both Kelerin and Dunner, enough to know that if the former were chasing the latter there was probably good cause for it.

  Crouching down, Maxy brought his elbows in and cupped his hands just below his right shoulder. Kelerin vaulted from his left foot, landing in Maxy’s cupped hands with his right, and jumped up again just as Maxy thrust upward from his crouch. The combined effort launched Kelerin high enough into the air to snag the top landing with both hands. He hauled himself up the rest of the way in time to see Dunner pause out an exit door at the top of the staircase, pleasantly surprised to find Kelerin so close on his tail.

  Flashing his best and presently most irritated friend a mischievous grin, Dunner exited the building, yanking the door closed behind him, but not before Kelerin managed to get his foot in the jam, preventing it from slamming shut all the way.

  “Go get him, Kel!” came Maxy’s voice from down below. Kelerin was already out the door intending to do just that, now being chased himself by a chorus of cheers from the crowd of Students in the stairwell.

  ... And she rode the sound waves from those cheers like a tailwind.

  Chapter 2: Maverick

  The Academy, Osmos

  Kelerin’s thesis, the catalyst that triggered the chase careening through the hallways of the Academy, was certainly unconventional as far as theses go. A particular form of lockstep, linear logic had pervaded most faculties and administrations for some time, frustrating to a few but nonetheless the reality. In light of such intellectual rigidity, most Students shied away from unpopular viewpoints regarding Wave Whip combat, a primary area of study in their tightly packed curriculum.

  However, new, Kelerin’s theory was not. It was based on research and discoveries conducted by the late, great maverick Professor Ren, whose contributions to the Academy’s ever expanding body of wisdom went well beyond the development of the open hand fighting art he fathered known as WateRen.

  Like all Faculty at the Academy, Professor Ren was a warrior scholar as well as a brilliant Wave theorist. He began to think of Wave theory, not merely as a basis for understanding the external universe, but as a means with which the individual might actually connect with that omnipresent binding undercurrent flowing in the background of all things.

  The Professor’s theories led to many extended periods of meditative seclusion. On one such excursion, to the foot of the Academy Island cliffs, while sitting atop the rocks of the surf break holding back the raging waters of the Telorn, Ren observed how the menacing waves first crashed and twisted, but then wrapped and molded themselves to the stones beneath him. He noticed how, over time, those waves had collectively shaped the rocks he sat upon as much as those rocks were shaping each and every individual wave crashing against their mossy surface. The water conformed but it also asserted itself. The experience led to an epiphany that would later become the foundation of Professor Ren’s theories, the core philosophical principles underpinning the art of WateRen.

  For the next two years Ren would often leave Academy Island suddenly only to return several days later, none of his colleagues being able to coax out of him where he had been or why. That was if they could get a hold of him to ask in the first place. For when Ren was definitively within the walls of the Academy, as sworn to by a lone Academic or groundskeeper who would happen to catch sight of him upon his return, he would immediately barricade himself within his office spending weeks there at a time locked away with nothing but his research to keep him company. He would only leave when the need to eat outweighed his need to continue to study, and only because starvation would prove to be a more bothersome distraction than sustenance, at least in the long run.

  During this period Ren only answered the door to his office at the request of another living being on two separate occasions. Both involved the Headmaster himself coming to address the concerns of several colleagues, whom despite affording intensive academic research a degree of respect and
reverence something akin to a religion, felt the Professor’s recent eccentricities deserved some looking into. On both occasions Ren conveyed to the Headmaster how he was absolutely fine, how there was no reason for concern, asking only for a little leeway with regard to what others might deem as unorthodox and assuring that all would be explained in due time.

  Indeed, his colleague’s concerns were soon addressed definitively when after two years of self-imposed exile Professor Ren made a dramatic entrance into the dining hall on a nondescript rainy morning and invited the entire Academy to a demonstration he had planned for later that afternoon, a demonstration of something he had curiously termed, WateRen.

  The time came and the Faculty Lounge of the Academy was packed to the brim. Everyone wanted to know where the rising star of the Academy had, for all intents and purposes, disappeared to over the last two years. Among a crowd of several hundred Students, Teachers and Professors, Ren took center stage. The room settled into a quiet state of anticipation and without preamble or fanfare, Ren proceeded to challenge any and all comers from the audience in a duel of hand to hand combat.

  Polite laughter followed the Professor’s opening remarks, surely meant as a joke to warm up the crowd. All were now ready to hear the great discovery yet to be revealed, hereto known only as WateRen. But the Professor waited out the laughter, and he continued to wait a significant amount of time into the awkward silence that followed. Finally, as if to release the crowd from the collective weight of its own uncertainty, he repeated his challenge with identical wording, tone and cadence, as if it were his first time voicing it.

  The Academy was stunned into silence. No one knew what to make of this bizarre challenge? What did any of this have to do with two years of intensive study under rather mysterious conditions and condoned by an extremely patient administration? Furthermore, the Professor may have been a great Wave theorist, no one would have doubted that. They also respected his known lethal prowess with a Wave Whip in hand. But in a test of physical strength the Professor looked to be the consummate Academic - that is to say, not very impressive at all.

  No one dared speak. Professor Ren’s reiteration of his challenge seemed to have released the audience from one uncertainty only to be held captive by another. Eventually, a cocky Final Year Student looking to make a name for himself had enough cheek to break the silence.

  With a mischievous glint in his eye the Student accepted Ren’s challenge. He was young and confident, and the Professor, although not ancient, was certainly past any physical prime he may have once laid claim to. But as the Professor began to move in the strange and dance-like fashion that is the hallmark of WateRen, toying with his overeager opponent and frustrating the young man’s efforts with ease, hints of newly acquired wiry muscles could be seen on the Professor’s gangly frame.

  After a few moments of what could only be described as play, Professor Ren dispatched his challenger with no apparent movement at all, sending the young man soaring through the air and landing dramatically upon his back, defeated, his cockiness, deflated.

  A collective gasp was taken up by the crowd, sucked in and silently held for the duration of twenty three subsequent challenges. Short and tall alike, the powerful, the slippery and those of pure speed, all fell quickly and effortlessly before the unassuming Professor.

  WateRen was hailed a triumph. Another notch in the knife of an already distinguished career, as Mainlanders liked to say. All doubt and reservations about the Professor’s behavior over the last two years was, if not forgotten, tabled for the time being. The brightest star of the Academy was once again on the rise. From that day on, WateRen became an official part of the curriculum and Professor Ren spent the next ten years teaching, documenting and cementing its place within Academic life.

  But time fades the luster of all things and as WateRen became routine, the real value of a hand-to-hand combat system in a world of Pulsers and Wave Whips began to emerge as an unspoken question within many Academic circles. One day, during a graduate level lecture on the abstract principles of WateRen, the heretical question was finally given voice.

  Ren peered up from his notes, momentarily thrown from his train of thought as he searched the audience for the challenger. He was guided by the eyes of the entire assembly, all staring at the Academic with the gall to speak aloud what many had thought but would not say.

  There, unflinching and smiling back at him was the same Academic who had been the first to accept his challenge ten years prior. The Student was no longer a Student but a Teacher now, older and more mature. His cockiness, however, was as young and fresh as ever, apparently suffering no long-term effects from the thrashing it received all those years ago. The Teacher repeated his question into the heavy silence that had come to engulf the auditorium.

  “Ahem - Yes, excuse me. I asked if this is really practical?” The other attendees in the audience shifted in their seats, clearly uncomfortable, while the outspoken Teacher, either not noticing or not caring, pressed on with his case. “With all due respect, Professor, we all know the merits of WateRen as a weaponless fighting art.” The Teacher stretched out his arms in a gesture that subsumed the entirety of the auditorium every time he spoke the words, ‘we all’. “We all believe it to be an excellent tool for young Students to familiarize themselves with the rudiments of dueling and combat, as well. But honestly, is there any practicality in delving philosophically into the mechanics behind the movements, as we’ve been doing for years on end? Aren’t we wasting - what could otherwise be well allocated time dedicated to more practical academic pursuits - with the furtherance of an impotent combat style in a weaponized age?”

  What disturbed Ren was not so much the question itself, or even the questioner himself, but rather the same question reflected back at him in the eyes of most every other Academic in the audience.

  “Practical? PRACTICAL! Have you not learned anything yet? WateRen is not… not... some… hand-to-hand combat system. No!” He had begun pacing behind the lectern, moving back and forth from one side of the room to the other. His emotional mind raced along inside his head while the rational part struggled to sum up his thoughts in a succinct and convincing argument that could win back the legitimacy and respect he was only now realizing WateRen had lost some time ago.

  “No,” he repeated, more measured this time. “It is so much more than that. WateRen is the study of how our bodies, our minds, our very selves interact with the Wave Currents of creation around us. How to flow with them, meld with them, become one with them, by conscious choice.” He stopped to face his audience again. “Because we, as the only philosophically-aware beings within this vast expanse of Creation that we know of, are the only ones with the capacity to choose wrongly. To choose not to flow.”

  Suddenly, Ren smiled. He was appreciating a simple beauty he had been taking for granted. Something he had not expressed in years. It was like watching a husband singing the praises of his longtime wife after being compelled to offer a description of her, rediscovering her beauty anew now that he was forced to articulate it aloud.

  “But we, as the only philosophically-aware beings within Creation, are also the only ones with the capacity to not only flow with creation, but to direct flow, control flow, create flow.” He paused for effect, waiting to ensure that his next question would be duly considered. “Do you not think that such study might be able to influence a great number of things practically?”

  Ren scanned the eyes of the room searching for comprehension, but all he saw was the same question reflected back at him. The same lingering doubt of practicality. Turning his back on the class and stomping away from the lectern, he grumbled, “Oh, the short sighted ignorance of proven logic,” the last two words being very nearly spat out as he headed for the door. “You want proof of WateRen’s practicality for Wave Whip combat,” he called back to the stunned class from over his shoulder, “I’ll bring you proof.”

  Professor Ren left the Academy that day for another ten years. He n
ever ended up bringing back the proof he had promised. What he did bring back was something entirely different. That, plus a daughter.

  Chapter 3: Voice

  The Academy, Osmos

  Kelerin burst through the doors of the dormitory and out into the quad, an area that brought with it a bit of green to balance out the cold beauty of wood, stone and glass architecture so heavily favored by the Academy. A smattering of trees dotted the meticulously manicured lawn providing intermittent cover to stone pathways winding along, this way and that, while well placed sculptures depicting various aspects of Academic philosophy added an artist’s touch to the grounds.

  Directly across from the quad to the east and parallel to the Student dormitories stretched the dining hall and rec center. To the left and north stood Userus Hall, the main building housing classrooms, the library, the Armory and the famed Faculty Lounge. Beyond Userus Hall, a sheer drop to the ocean and the lower docks - beyond that, the northern Islands. To the right and south lay the gymnasium, followed by the Faculty building and Faculty residences. Lastly, and nestled away to the west, was the Headmaster’s compound along with its private office, residence and gardens.

  Kelerin watched Dunner hang a right, cutting a b-line directly across the quad along a tree lined path running between the dormitories and the rec center. He followed at a sprint, the sound of his footfalls mingling with Dunner’s and echoing across the vacant square. Looming in the distance and growing larger with each passing stride was the all-glass gymnasium, a massive cube of crystalline grandeur refracting the sun’s rays into a billion points of color and light.

  Upon their approach to the gymnasium, and just as Dunner had hoped, a line of Students could be seen inside the main doors waiting to be assigned sparring rooms and barring anyone from entering any further into the building. Dunner selected a short and stocky Student on the line named Ravi. Picking up speed, he somersaulted directly over Ravi’s head, causing Ravi to yell out in protest, “Hey! There’s a line here, Dunner!”