While he was mentally drained, hunger drove John to stay and converse. Both new bloods and old guards were asked the same, where can I eat? Veterans showed him the way but he didn’t understand their cyphers. Recruits gave diverse outputs from ignoring to disdain but none knew their way around.

He didn’t contact any of his assigned companions due to some concerns; Gunther was preparing for his second test while Larial and Lucas were still at the simulators. Wandering only netted him ire from the guards and oh, this hunger. Thus, John went to Archives as they weren’t kicking him out, just yet.

If not for constant influx in the base, John would’ve solved his problem. Force allocations and materiel kept coming, changing most of the signs and landscape. The Archives however, remained unchanged among this sea of changes. He hoped that the books and data slates can distract him from his hunger.

John found himself among rows of tall shelves that carried both physical books and data slates. To the left side was series of virtual reality devices and right, the reception area. He placed his hands on one of the books; it was cold to the touch and two fingers thick. A rarity as it was made from natural paper.

All papers he had seen prior were faux-papers, made from plastics and god knows what. The book in his hand had yellowish pages and smelt of grass and vanilla. All of these suggested it was an off-world item, an anachronism in age where data slates and virtual reality devices dominate the modern life.

From this John had an inkling that the Dynasty or this Army was rich indeed, able to import such tomes versus pursuing the modern ideal of cheap, effective and mass manufactured data devices. He looked at the book again; it wasn’t about military tactics. It wasn’t about weapons but a story. A story book.

The book was titled as Aevulum Fublat and had an abstruse cover. From its synopsis, it recited a fantastical myth of a half-god named as Aevulum that leapt through time. Who would read this kind of thing? The more John read, the more confused he became. At least the pictures were pretty to see.

Someone called out to him, “Young man, why are you here? I can hear your stomach way over here.” The person noticed the book in his hand, “Oh? You read Aevulum?”

“Uh, sorry, Sir.” John turned around to see a grey-haired man, “I didn’t know where the mess hall is, so I thought maybe reading some books can, uh, help?”

The grey-haired man had finely sculpted body, barely hidden by his uniform. “I see. Surely that isn’t working well, does it?” He introduced himself to John, “Pleased to meet you, young man. I’m Gerasimov and you are?”

“John. John Smith, Sir.” John nodded at the bearded Gerasimov, “Sir Gerasimov, I am sorry if I disturbed your reading, Sir. But I am just…a bit hungry.”

“Oh? You didn’t find the mess hall, John?” Gerasimov put away his round eyeglasses and rose from his chair, “No one told you where is it?”

“Uh…I did ask around…but I didn’t get what they were saying, Sir.” The ex-slum dweller hung his head low.

Gerasimov was quite an imposing figure. He was one and half tall of John. “Ho-hum, you’re new, is it?” He continued after sizing John up and down, “Or was it due to something else? It had been roughly a month after the recruitment. Most people would know this base at the back of their hands.”

“Yes, Sir. I was bedridden a few times.” John raised three of his fingers. “I don’t know why but I think it was due to ‘noggin’ in my head, Sir.”

“Huu, yet you’re here?” Gerasimov arched his eyebrows, “Why do the Army still keep you around, John? To me, you’re not fit for service. Not at all. You’re too thin to begin with!”

“I don’t know either. My team mates said I’m conscripted?” John’s face was mix of disbelief and frown, “My superior said it was due to my math skills.”

“I see. If you don’t mind me asking, who’s your superior? Where are you from?” The old man shot two questions.

“My superior is Lieutenant Sash-I mean, probably Major Karamazov by now.” John’s voice turned silent, “I am from the, uh, outskirts of Valengir, Sir.” He stammered, “And uh, Sir…can I know what Sir does? Sir looks like a person that knows this base…”

“Outskirts of Valengir, eh. Well,” Gerasimov paused, “You can assume me as a book keeper around here of sorts.” He glanced at the book read by John before, “By the way, what do you think of Aevulum?”

“This book? I am not sure if my answer will satisfy you, Sir.” John hesitated.

Gerasimov gave him a smirk, “Oh, don’t worry. Just say what’s in your mind. I am a book keeper, after all.”

“Uh, here goes, Sir.” Despite being nervous, he continued, “From what I read, the half-god is only trying to save himself, so-”

“Hm, what makes you think that, John?” The old man interrupted him.

John stared at the ceiling, “Uh, Sir, I think because he didn’t use his time powers correctly. He could’ve saved the town but he didn’t.”

“So, you’re saying he should’ve saved everyone regardless of who are they?” Doubt rose from Gerasimov.

The ex-slum dweller found it awkward, “Well, uh…he is a half-god so…. he should do it, Sir? He has all that power but he didn’t. There’s also a part of him letting the uh, the villain go?”

“Hm, an interesting answer, John.” Gerasimov scratched his beard, “Your opinion wasn’t wrong. He was indeed powerful but he didn’t use the full extent of his powers. Do you know why?”

“I…don’t know, Sir. The words are too difficult for me.” John frowned.

“Checks and balances, John.” The old man answered for him, “Yes, he has all that power but you know, absolute power corrupts. Absolutely.” Gerasimov paused for emphasis. “The part where he left the town to die was unfortunate but again, he is only a half-god. God do play dice. If you read until the end, you’ll find out why he didn’t save the town.”

“Okay, Sir.” John’s stomach growled yet again. “Uh…sorry. I am just a little…uh, hungry, Sir. I haven’t eaten from uh, morning. Hahaha…ha.”

“Welp, let this old man treat you to something fulfilling.” Gerasimov beckoned John to follow him, “Make sure to remember this route.” He turned around to face the thin man, “If you have time, come to the Archives sometimes. I could use someone to talk to, about books.”

“Okay, Sir. Why not with the communicator? I mean, to talk, Sir?” John agreed after putting back the book to its shelf.

The old man waved his right hand, “Hm, if you’re using the communicator, wouldn’t that mean you’re busy at that time? So, if you can come in person, that means you’re free.” He argued further, “And if you’re free, you can have a conversation without worries. Communicator doesn’t fill in the need to meet people; we’re social beings. I’d hate to become like one of those young’uns, slaved to their devices day and night.”

“I admit you’re right, Sir.” John followed Gerasimov a few steps behind, “I also seen how others are glued to their data slates and stuff. I think it is not exactly good, especially when we’re in the Army. Like my team mate had said, be alert…as orders can come any time.”

“A good attitude to have.” Gerasimov led him to a hallway, “Young people these days…they think this Army is a walk in the park. Wait until they see their first tour!”

“You’re right, Sir. Just that…I am not sure if I can.” John wasn’t feeling positive.

The bearded man patted John’s shoulders, “Well, as they say in the Army, the first thing is the mindset. You have the correct mindset, so keep at it.”

“Okay, Sir.”

Small talks occurred as they made their way to the mess hall through number of turns. Throughout the way, there were number of people greeting Gerasimov. He’s well known. John’s thoughts were dashed when his nose smelt something. He didn’t know what were they but they made him salivate.

As they got closer, there were more and more people on the path. Some carried boxes with alluring smell, others were just as hungry as John. None had their stomach rumbling like him, putting him in an awkward position; people were staring at him. Gerasimov gave them a slight nod, dispersing their gazes.

John started to incoherently mumble of which when heard by outsiders, sounded like he was spewing litany of curses. The old man besides him heard it differently; John was chanting math for some reason. He brought John to some of many bain-marie islands lining the hall and gave the thin man a plate.

John was salivating but he kept his stance like a dog told to sit in front of a treat, “Uh…Sir? Can I…eat them? Which one?”

“Haha, young man. You can pick any of them,” Gerasimov took a plate for himself too, “But if you want to truly taste the Dynasty cuisines, I suggest going for Section ai-four, bee-six and el-one.”

The thin man looked at the two nearby sections pointed out by the old man. “Uh, some kind of dark protein block and black protein paste?” He then glanced at the far section, “Oh, I know about this one. It’s called as ‘vegetables’, right? I saw them in the books once! So green and red!”

“Sir Gerasimov,” One of the patrons of the bain-marie wanted to give the old man a salute but stopped by him, “A new recruit perhaps?” The bespectacled man gave John a calculating gaze, “Is he from the lowlands?”

“He is. He’s somewhere close to it, yeah. Valengir.” Gerasimov turned to face the man, “How’s things in your end, Luther?”

Luther responded, “Mostly fine, Sir.” He was ladling an oily, steaming stew, “Though I had to dismiss a few due to some disciplinary issues.”

“Ohoho-ho.” The old man played with his beard, “Their sponsors and houses won’t like it.”

A low growl interjected their conversation, “I…uh…sorry Sirs…”

“Why are you not eating yet, Recruit?” Luther faced John, with ladle in hand. Why is he so thin? “Go on, take anything you like. It’s your duty to eat!”

“Still on-duty mode despite this being your break time, Luther?” Gerasimov joked with the brunet man, “You won’t get a girl if you’re like that, you know.”

“My word. My apologies, Sir Gerasimov.” Luther faced to the side, “Recruit? Why are you not eating? Go eat!”

“Hush, don’t be too harsh on him.” The bearded man whispered to Luther, “He told me that he got into triage for three times.” Gerasimov lamented, “I’m not sure if I should happy or not. Oh, how the standards had fallen.”

“Sir Gerasimov, this isn’t the place to talk about that.” Luther brought his bowl away, “Anyway, how did this young man fancied your attention?”

“He’s a good partner to talk with, Luther.” Gerasimov selected some appetisers, “He read Aevulum. However how short, he debated with me too. A rare thing nowadays, considered how young’uns are these days.”

“Um…Sirs? I am sorry to interrupt but…” John shown them a full plate, “How do I eat, uh, these?”

“Don’t tell me he even didn’t know how to eat those?” Luther was a bit surprised, “How did he get admitted here, Sir Gerasimov?”

“That’s what I want to know as well,” The old man whispered back, “John, you eat them with a fork and knife.” He filled the rest of his plate with same food shown by John, “Come, let’s sit together. I’ll show you how to eat it.”

“Mind if I join you, Sir Gerasimov?” Luther brought his tray, “I want to talk a little with him, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure. The more, the merrier.” Gerasimov chuckled, “Well John, look closely. This is how you eat the cuisine.”

“I see but uh, this is hard,” the knife kept slipping from his hands, “Uh…sorry Sir, uh…”

“Luther. Don’t sweat it, Recruit.” Luther wiped his face with a napkin. The sauce on John's plate got to his face. “Just…be careful, next time.”

“See? He’s interesting. At least we won’t get bored.” Gerasimov grinned at the spectacle. He continued to lecture John, “There’s a trick to it. Pay attention, John. You held the knife wrong.”

“Oh. Like this, Sir Gerasimov?”

“Yes, like that.” The old man smiled at John. Although this young man is stupid, he sure learns fast.

“So, Recruit John, right?” Luther chewed a piece of meat from his stew, “How do you end up here?” He glanced at John’s thin muscles, “The Army is pretty harsh. We need to be fit at any time.”

“I, uh,” John coughed, “-recruited from the outskirts of Valengir, Sir Luther.” He felt uncomfortable from Luther’s gaze, “My superior said I am admitted due to my math skills?”

“Really? That’s it?” Luther didn’t believe it. He activated his communicator.

John nodded, “Yes…Sir. Because of my math skills. I think.”

“Hard to believe but that’s what I found as well, Luther.” Gerasimov spoke lightly to Luther, “Though I found it a little baffling.”

“Weird.” Luther put down his bowl ladle, “Hm, I see you’ll fit fine in Analytics, Recruit.”

“Uh…thanks, Sir.” John burped, “Sorry.” He continued, “I am waiting for my results.”

“No need for that,” Luther waved his hand, “The Analytics branch will gladly receive you, Recruit.” He smiled at John, “Just, be mindful. You only live once, after all.”

“I passed?” John almost choked his drink, “How, how do Sir Luther knew?”

“Luther is from the Personnel Department, John.” Gerasimov chided the bespectacled man, “He’s still single though, all these years.”

“Oh! Recruit John Smi-”

“Stop. We’re off-duty at the moment, Recruit.” Luther opened his right palm, “Take it easy. Now, eat! Eat more! It’s your duty to become healthy!”

“Okay, Sir.” John returned to the bain-marie again, “Is…Sir Gerasimov someone…uh, important too?”

“Ohoho-ho, I’m just your friendly book keeper!” Gerasimov smirked, “Go on, go eat some more, young man.”

After John left, Luther spoke. “Still with your games, Sir Gerasimov? Please, don’t give me any more headaches.” He sighed, “Think of those Recruits suddenly getting panic attacks.”

“That John had poor social skills, being too gullible.” Gerasimov wasn't smiling. “His life must've been hard. I pity him.” The old man ate his appetisers next, “What a couple new troubles worth? We’re in the Army and we solve troubles. Isn’t that right, ‘Sir Luther’?”

“I got to hand it to you, you and that hobby of yours, Sir Gerasimov.” Luther sighed again, “I fear for my heart. And sanity! Enough with the complaint reports!”