The sharp rapping of knuckles on solid wood roused Edwin. He rubbed at a bleary eye then fumbled for his phone in the dark. But his hand came up empty when he checked where it usually lay charging. The knock came again and he struggled free of his sheets with a groan. Half awake, Edwin made to open the door. On reflex he flicked the light switch when he yanked the door open. Staring into the dark hallway his waking mind recalled the current situation.

“Edwin.” Of course, it was Ava. “What on Earth have you been doing?” Her tone was rather scathing and Edwin found himself annoyed as she tried to rebuke him.

“Sleeping,” he replied placidly. “Can I help you with something Ava?” Edwin didn’t rise to her verbal provocation and instead cut to the matter at hand.

“As a matter of fact you can,” she said snootily. “You were supposed to come down and speak with Mr. Siciliano after you switched clothing. Instead, you fell asleep for several hours. Ridiculous.”

Edwin could imagine her standing there, a vindictive grin splitting her thin red lips, arms crossed, and brows drawn together in faux anger.

“Meh,” he shrugged his shoulders. She couldn’t see him do it, but she would pick up the message anyway. “I was exhausted after doing CPR Ava,” he began to explain to her. “I came up here and ended up falling asleep.”

She clucked her tongue. “Really Edwin? Now is not the time for that.”

“Ah really?” Edwin asked, feigning ignorance. “But, it’s night after all. You know that time when people sleep?” He said the last sentence with a bit of heat to his words.

Ava was really getting under his skin right now. Who was she to wake him up in the middle of the night and start to question him? He had not actually been instructed to do anything. Considering he had split from the group right at the entrance.

“Tch,” she scoffed.

“Well, Edwin, some matters are more important than the rest one requires. I myself went through the same experience as yourself, but I still performed to our expectations. Even now. Here I am, spurring you to action,” she lectured him.

“Whatever, I’ll come down,” he shrugged, relenting. “Is Tony in the basement or his office?”

“He’s in the basement. Do hurry now,” she said before Edwin listened to her turn and stride off.

Too bad I didn’t get bitch-slap-kinesis, Edwin thought uncharitably.

He let the door swing closed and sat back on his bed. His stomach growled and he lamented missing dinner. Ungracefully, but thankfully hidden in the darkness, he felt around for the large blue plastic tub he kept along the wall. He found it and popped the lid. His fingers fished out a Pop-Tart packet and a Kool-Aid Jammers juice pouch. Now seemed like a good time for guilty pleasures.

It took him a minute to get the straw through the punch hole but he got it. Then he took a bite of Pop-Tart and the dry flaky pastry irritated his throat. Swallowing down the urge to cough it out he rewarded himself by draining the juice pouch in one long gulp. Then, of course, he slotted the straw into a second one.

With his survival needs met, he grabbed his key and meandered out of his room. A slow pace led him down to the basement. Where, after a bit of searching, he discovered light once again. He found the building manager, Anthony Siciliano, furiously scribbling in a notebook. The oil lamp, likely commandeered from the original owner, burned low to conserve fuel.

“Hey Tony,” he greeted the hunched over man.

“Ah, there you are Stein,” said the older man as he glanced up from his notebook and smiled thinly. “Just what are you trying to pull? Running off at a time like this? Wait no, nevermind,” he waved Edwin off. “Ava already told me what happened. Crazy shit you guys went through. Anyway, a couple coppers stopped by earlier and gave me an update on what’s going on. Apparently, those weird planes you guys saw stopped fighting. The big tower one crashed and wrecked close to six blocks. It’s what caused that earthquake and probably what’s killed the power.”

“Whoa,” Edwin breathed out.

“Yeah. It’s a mess. But look, Stein, you're one of the most experienced RAs around. You know a thing or two about corralling a bunch of new residents. So in a couple hours once the sun’s up and I’ve figured out how to feed the lot of you, can you do me a favor?” Edwin wanted to deny the request but that’s not really the sort of relationship he had with Tony so he nodded his head and agreed to the favor without even hearing what it was.

“Alright, basically there’s no power and classes sure as hell aren’t starting later. So I need you and the other RA’s to find something for all of them to do. Take them out to one of the fields or something and keep them busy. I’ll get everything sorted on my end. I just need all these residents out of my hair. Capisce?”

“Yeah Tony, capisce. I’ve got it,” Edwin said.

He turned to head back to bed and maybe catch a few more hours of sleep when Tony called out to him, “Hey what’s with the juice anyway? You some kinda kid or something?”

Edwin flipped Tony off and shook his head ruefully. That old Italian prick! He grouched in his thoughts.

Edwin decided to drain his second Kool-Aid Jammers. He took aim and tossed the empty pouch towards the faint silhouette of a trash can in the corner. He smiled a little at his success and barely managed to avoid tripping over the sprawled body of someone in a sleeping bag. The residents were packed together, covering most of the floor space in the basement. It made entering and leaving a hassle. Apparently, most of them didn’t mind sleeping communally in a basement.

When he made it back to his room Edwin was feeling too awake to fall back asleep. Sitting in the dark, his mind turned to deep thought. Last summer back at home he had taken an EMT 1 course. He had never used his certification, and the lack of experience really showed when he reflected on his actions earlier.

Thinking back on it, he had missed some of the steps he could have done to try and save the man’s life in a quicker or more efficient manner. It was the first time he had ever felt a rib break beneath his palm as he did chest compressions. Yet he scarcely could recall the feeling. He had been so pumped up on adrenaline that many of the details were a blur. This concern paled in comparison to the most shocking thing that occurred last night. Those blue panels. Had they been real? Didn’t their appearance at that moment mean he had been the one to kill that guy?

Edwin had read stories before where similar things happened. In those tales, the rules of the universe were often different and people lived within a system like an RPG. To gain experience points like he had done, implied he had delivered a final blow to the man, or at least contributed enough to be rewarded for the kill. It was unsettling.

Besides his uncertainty in regards to the man's death, there was also the crazy aerial battle to consider. Was it some sort of herald for coming change? Did the appearance of those aircraft signal an apocalypse? Or a world merge, or a summoned hero situation? He wanted to know what exactly was going on. The blanket technology blackout checked a box on the apocalypse route. Dread filled him when he considered that he might be about to be plunged into an apocalypse. Such a scenario was as good as a death sentence for him.

But no! He tried to shake that line of thinking off. What proof is there even that something like this is or will happen? I mean it typically happens all in one go right? Or there would be some sort of message from a god announcing the changes or something. Yet there hasn’t been any sort of thing like that happening. Maybe I was just having some sort of sick hallucination after seeing that guy die yesterday. I mean…The screens haven't appeared again. How could I even prove they exist? I tried calling on a menu or something, but that didn’t work. The only other option could be my supposed skill. Oh, my skill! I could try to use my skill.

With that realization, the light switch was flipped. The best way to try and figure this whole thing out right now was to see if he could really use the skill he had supposedly unlocked, concrete manipulation or as the panel had helpfully supplied the ability to influence concrete. Concrete Manipulation that was listed as a tertiary skill under both the sub-subskill Terrakinesis and a skill named Telekinesis. Since he was granted such a specific ability underneath the umbrella of what seemed to be more diverse applications of mental force, Edwin decided to start with the aforementioned ability to influence concrete. If he could hurl it around with his mind that would be handy in a lot of ways. He envisioned the ground jutting up in a moment to shield him from gunfire, then rushing forward to capture or crush his imaginary opponents.

If he had access to all manner of manipulation skills that could be expected under the banner of Terrakinesis then his survivability would be better. If that access extended to telekinesis, well then, Edwin grinned. He would be able to do almost anything he wanted.

Brimming with hope and fantasy, Edwin glanced around his room and decided he should head outside somewhere to try and test out his skill. A trickle of light was creeping over the horizon, but at this early hour no one else was up and about. Edwin slipped out of the building unnoticed. He intended to move away from the dorm, even though it offered easy and quick access to concrete with the large paving stones made of the stuff that served as walkways around the building. With a fast paced he walked down the adjacent road and made towards the empty tech building about a block away. Far enough he could deny any part should his skill create a problem.

Edwin quickly found himself standing on similar paving stones of smooth grey concrete at his destination. He glanced around in the pre-dawn light, checking for anyone. He found the coast was clear so he closed his eyes and drew a deep, slow breath. He could not wipe the grin from his lips as his mind spun with possibilities. Calm concentration was beyond him, so Edwin grabbed his bubbling enthusiasm and tried to leverage it.

Drawing from popular culture, Edwin held one arm out in front of him, his elbow at a sharp ninety degrees upwards from the ground. His left pointed to the ground in a reverse pose behind himself. He turned his profile sideways and took a sturdy position with his legs. Without further preamble he pivoted on his right foot 180 degrees and stomped down with his left. His downward pointing left arm came up as he let his right arm fall behind and point to the ground. Both clenched in tight fists.

Despite how unruly his thoughts had been when trying to calm himself, Edwin’s mind was now focused fully. He imagined channeling an arcane energy down from his brain, through his spinal cord and down through his arms, before it slipped free from himself and would then force the concrete below him to crack in a long thin fissure from where his foot landed.

His eyes were closed and his heart was bursting, the pounding of rushing blood filled his ears and he barely heard the faint noise of the rubber sole of his shoe smacking down on the concrete. He let his eyes snap open, expecting to see the image that filled his imagination. But no crack extended forth from himself, no magic had been worked. All he accomplished was a dull tingling in his foot. A traitorous thought was quickly killed off before it could be allowed to grow. Edwin reasoned that he had just not activated his skill properly. He had not been given any sort of instructions on how to utilize it, so some failed attempts were to be expected.

With tempered expectations, less enthusiasm, and an unconscious tickle of uncertainty, Edwin went with plan b.

“Concrete Manipulation!” He called out softly. It wouldn’t due to have someone come over, only to be frightened away by his display of power. Aweing the masses could come later once he had mastered his abilities. For now discretion was preferred.

Nothing happened. Edwin stopped a grimace from surfacing. He shook his head, it was not a problem, that had only been plan b after all.

Ten minutes later, when he had worked through every option he could imagine, Edwin no longer attempted to hide his worry. His brow was creased. His back was sweaty and his hands jittery. He paced back and forth a short distance. Nothing made sense at the moment. He had tried two dozen different ideas and nothing seemed to work. Fantasy had failed him. Popular culture was a lie. He could not have been crazy after all. Those panels had been real, without a doubt. He was certain of it. It certainly had not been any sort of adrenaline fueled delusion, or a trauma induced psychosis.

Yet nothing was working. The concrete was as smooth and unyielding as it had been since he had arrived. Nary a crack to be spotted. Picking at a hangnail, Edwin stopped pacing and decided to try his riskiest plan yet. Afterall, it was entirely possible that his skill could only be activated through this method.

Worry and hesitation kept him picking at his hangnail and he did not notice before a sharp sting from his finger broke his cyclical thoughts. He had torn a strip of skin free next to his nail and a small bead of blood was welling up from the spot. He swore and brought it to his lips to suck the blood off. He spat it to the ground a moment later and readied himself to act. No more stalling.

Edwin kneeled down on his right knee and clenched his right hand tightly. Rearing back he tried to channel his ability, he called out verbally and mentally, silent thoughts pleading for this to work. Consequences be damned, Edwin wanted this to work.

With a shout of, “concrete manipulation!” Edwin’s right fist smashed down hard onto the ground. His knuckles broke, the skin split, and his blood splattered around the impact. An unconscious instinct prevented him from pulverising his fist further with a stronger strike. Yet the damage was done. Edwin drew his arm close to his chest, cradling it to try and prevent further damage. He stared down at the blood sprinkled around a smear of skin. The concrete was unmarred beyond the bits of himself he had donated to it.

The pain came then, a sharp, awful piercing pain. Each of his four knuckles that served as the leading edge for his punch were busted. The warm trickle of blood flowed down between his fingers and along the inside of his arm. Edwin felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. He screwed his eyes shut to try and ward them off. His breathing turned ragged.

“Why?” Came his choked question. In the quiet pre-dawn morning, nothing responded and Edwin felt his thoughts turn darker, self incriminating. He was an idiot, absolutely and completely dumb. Not only that, he had hallucinated and allowed himself to be swept up in a tide of hope. It would be so cool if he had psychic powers. It would be an adventure, Something he had found renewed enthusiasm in. But the illusion had been just that, a fake reality, a false image that he deluded himself with. He had deluded himself to the point of busting his hand against solid concrete in a desperate hope to make his dreams a reality. But reality was not swayed by his dreams. It was as hard and unyielding as the concrete.

His thoughts spiralled, the tech blackout would have hit the hospital hard. The best he could hope for would be bandages and splints if his fingers needed them. He was probably facing some serious permanent damage if he couldn't get medical care soon. An aching throb was now joining the sharp pain in his fingers, a herald for the discomfort that awaited him in the future.

Edwin resigned himself to walking to the hospital half a dozen blocks away. He needed help, and he would be damned before going back to the dorms where Ava or someone was likely to be tasked with helping him walk to the hospital anyways.

Raw grief and anger filled his mind. He felt himself overcome and let his thoughts slip away. Staggering to his feet, only pain and emotion accompanied Edwin for the first handful of steps. His anger at himself grew to the point of fury. He was pissed, to the point that he felt the need to act out. His grief slipped away. Lost beneath the growing current of channeled acrimonious emotion. Edwin stomped harder and harder with each step. He paid no attention to his surroundings beyond glaring towards his destination. Until one particularly vicious stomp led to him tripping.

Even in such a twisted state of mind, Edwin’s instincts were reliable and he kept his damaged hand close to his chest and used the other hand to brace his fall. He came down hard, from the sidewalk into the road. His knee and palm met gravel over asphalt and gained fresh scrapes. Edwin grit his teeth and hissed. He hurried to his feet and whirled around, intending to lash out at whatever inanimate object had tripped him. But he stopped short when he saw half a dozen shoe prints. Sunk into the concrete, each subsequent footstep dipped slightly deeper into the sidewalk. His gaze followed them from the furthest one up to the closest one, which was several inches deep into the ground. With a dull gaze he came to only one conclusion. He had tripped after stomping inches into the ground.

This was-. Holyshit! He realized. It was proof. He had used his skill. Somehow, unconsciously, he must have empowered his steps or emitted force from his feet or something. He had just stomped inches deep into concrete.

Edwin’s left palm and his knees wept blood freely. His right arm, still cradled close to his chest still bled, as well dribbling down his shirt. The ache from his knuckles could practically be felt in his teeth, the intensity was that great. Despite his circumstances and the foul mood that had only moments ago filled him with a raging tempest, Edwin felt such sheer relief that he laughed. Clutching at his hand, he laughed, loud and clear. His laughter echoed through the empty surroundings, manic and concerning, but no one came to interrupt him.

It worked, his skill was real, there was a supernatural force to command and bend to his will. It felt so instinctive now. So obvious and clear. Still laughing without regard, Edwin focused and spent the energy he could feel inside himself. It lashed out, as eager and desperate as he felt. It seized the concrete and tore a tennis ball sized chunk loose, scooped clean like ice cream. The half-sphere floated toward him where it came to rest in the air above his palm. Just floating and slowly rotating as he wanted it to.

Edwin could feel a tendril of energy leashed from himself to the animated sidewalk. This connection leeched energy from him. He could feel a growing fatigue. It was not physical fatigue nor was it mental fatigue, it was a feeling similar to the two but it’s source was entirely novel to Edwin. The rate was unsustainable for long but he would be able to control the concrete for a bit more time without issue.

While delighted, a practical part of Edwin’s mind reasserted itself and cut the connection, the drain ended and the concrete fell. It hit the sidewalk. But the noise of it’s collision was drowned out as Edwin let his laughter double in intensity. It did not matter that he was injured, right now, nothing could take this feeling of pure relief and vindication from him.