Following lunch with Srinivas, Mike returned home to begin his training regimen. So far that day he had overslept, cleaned out his desk at work, and eaten out for lunch. As it was after one in the afternoon, he didn't think he was off to a good start.

Mike pulled out the book of sticky notes Marius had left him.

Sticky note number one: Two hours per day. Lift heavy things to maximize kinetic potential. Maximum weight less important than duration of effort.

Sticky note number two: Two hours per day. Begin body sculpting. Experiment with fat reduction and muscle fiber enhancement. Easier to see results with diet and exercise.

Sticky note number three: Two hours per day. Practice white noise meme-casting. Goal is ability to incapacitate non-vasted opponent.

Sticky note number four: One hour per day. Work animas and gravitas without mind-vasting to increase control. Will be difficult. Worth it.

Sticky note number five: Half hour per day navigate with corona while blindfolded. Half hour per day work on heating and cooling with corona. OK if can't figure out cooling on your own.

Sticky note number six: Erica lessons. Play catch using coronas - do not use vasting. Work teleotic talent by freezing water. Also heal slice and stab wounds.

Sticky note number seven: Srinivas lessons. Same teleotic exercises as Erica. Work on meme-casting basic emotions. Fear, happiness, boredom all very useful.

Sticky note number eight: If you feel buildup of precursor residue, this is a good thing for paragons. Necessary before next step in training.

Mike set the instructions aside and pulled precursor from the core of his mind. The sensation felt different from receiving a charge, a taxing chore of pulling something forth whereas before there had been no effort involved. Another thing he noticed was that the maximum rate he could pull didn't come close to what he was used to. He began his first solo training session by levitating the couch, which almost proved too heavy for him to lift. He didn't make it to the count of ten before he had to set it back down.

After a break, he tried again and could only hold up the couch for seven seconds before he felt the flow of animas choke off. Mike tried to increase his uptake of precursor against the backpressure he felt. For a moment, he fought it, then relaxed as he sensed the resistance through the inactive nous and gravitas. Mike diverted a massive amount of precursor to harden his skin and expand his mind, making room to increase the flow. In an instant, he understood that what he pulled from the core of his mind came in a precise and consistent blend of all three precursors and he had to consume them at similar rates if he didn't want a backup to happen.

"Why the hell is he telling me to work things in blocks of two hours? I need to be doing everything at the same time."

Mike filled several bowls with water and then flash froze their contents one at a time by imposing an ice pattern on the molecules. At the same time he performed a meme-casting and lifted the couch once more. This time, he could keep the couch in the air for fourteen seconds before running out of steam.

Mike melted the ice with his corona and repeated his couch lifting. Again and again over the course of hours, Mike repeated his training exercise until he could barely use the talents.

Then he went to the fridge to figure out his dinner. The back corner of the fridge drew his eyes like a magnet. His hand snatched a beer of its own volition, then he popped the top and took a long slurp. Mike put it down in less than a minute and fetched a second to drink with dinner. He finished that beer while cooking his ramen, then another while eating. A few pieces of fruit, a fourth beer, and then peanut butter toast. The last beer found its way into his hand.

He returned to his talent exercises just as Varanelli arrived home. She pointedly ignored him as she assumed her dinner spot on the couch. Mike took a break to sip at the beer.

"Grab me one of those?"

"No can do, I'm afraid."

Varanelli shook her head. "All five? Have you ever heard of moderation?"

"Not really my style."

"I know." Varanelli put down her sandwich. "You are driving me insane, Ski."

"Okay."

"I'm serious. You get the break of a lifetime and you're already engineering your inevitable downfall."

Mike scowled at her. "You're the one who brought a six pack into the house. I told you to get rid of it."

"Sorry I believed you when you said you're not an alcoholic."

"Get off my case," he said.

"Fine. Just make sure you pay the rent on time."

He pulled out his wallet and counted out six hundred dollars. "There you go. I'm a month early on the rent."

She snatched it away from him. "Go do your trainin with Spencer."

"Is that why you're bent out of shape? Because I have no desire to hang out with her."

"That's one, very minor, part of it. Just don't somehow turn becoming a paragon into a loss like you did with the life insurance money."

Mike lifted his chin, then stomped out of the apartment. In his car, he checked his phone. An unknown number had texted him close to an hour ago. "Ski, this is Erica Spencer. Got your number from Jimmy. Where are we meeting?"

He typed back a quick message before turning on the car and putting it into drive. "By the incline. Tired of paying for parking."

When he arrived, Mike got out to sit on the hood. He still sat there when Spencer approached him ten minutes later.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine. You ready to train?"

Spencer squinted at him. "Have you been drinking?"

"It's not really your place to be concerned about my well-being."

"We are learning to use powers together unsupervised. I think your sobriety is a valid concern. And you shouldn't have driven here."

"I can handle a lot more than five drinks and be fine."

She crossed her arms. "Let's try this again in two days. Goodbye, Ski."

As Spencer drove away, Mike lay back on the hood of his car and stared up at the sky.