Deep in the arctic circle, a woman with flaxen blonde hair spun and twirled a borrowed fishing spear over her head as she worked the forms of a spear kata. Sheltered from the elements by a hastily erected research station, she had naught but the voice in her head for company as she practiced. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the woods at the base of the eastern rocky mountains, a man on the run with skin as pale as paper crouched before a still pool. He stared at his reflection, a modern day narcissus, the strain of intense concentration evident on his face. Then, so quickly that any but the keenest observer would have missed it, he vanished from view. It was less than a second before he reappeared, but a wolfish smile was present on his face.

In one of the many neighborhoods of Delhi, a man with dark hair and tired, dark eyes returned from a brief vacation to escape the stresses of city life. As he approached his home, the door swung open to reveal his wife and young son waiting to receive him. Ignoring his mother’s shouted warning, the eight year old boy ran to greet his father. Laughing, the man scooped up his son, and for the first time, lifted the boy over his head.

In an upper middle class household in Johannesburg, a little girl with skin like polished mahogany regaled her mother with tales of her adventures. The mother prepared dinner for them both as she listened with half an ear to her beloved daughter talk about the rock she had found in the forest, and her new imaginary friend. She laughed as the girl talked about how quick she was getting, and that she was going to be an Olympian. She had such a vivid imagination.

And finally, in the woods of rural Wisconsin, a man with faraway hazel eyes and a gentle smile lost himself in the blur of productivity. He rolled from task to task with an elation normally only seen in young children. After he closed the last air vent cover in the cabin and threw his dirty rags in the washing machine, he allowed himself to sit down on the porch. As the sun set behind wooded hills, he basked in the serotonin pumping through his brain and felt joy.

As the Five practiced, lived, learned and grew, Sarah watched. She compiled information from each of them, adding it to a vast database and processor core more complex than the world. And as she watched, she planned, simulating scenarios and interactions that spanned years into the future. After all, the story was just beginning. The plot has yet to begin.

****

“Yes, mom, I just felt like calling” Chris said as he shoveled clothes out of the dryer directly into a duffel bag. He kept his phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he struggled to close the bag’s zipper. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

He did one last once over of the cabin, then hauled the bag to the trunk of his car. He absentmindedly ran his hand over the roof of the old blue thing as he waited for a break in the conversation.

“Alright, fair enough” he chuckled. “I did feel like calling, though. I’m going to head back from Bill’s today.” He turned off the lights in the kitchen and locked the front door.

“Yes, I finished everything. Did some cleaning, too. Love you too.” He lowered himself into the front seat of Old Blue and put his phone on the dashboard dock.

“Wait, shit.” He mumbled to himself and got up from his seat. He slowly strolled up the gravel drive, eyes locked on an incredibly unassuming rock. “Can’t just leave you here, can I?”

You are under no obligation to move my core, Chris.

“There’s no distance limit, I suppose? And I don’t have to worry about you being stolen.”

Unlikely.

“Still, I’d feel better if you were out of the rain. Also, my uncle’s driveway.” Sarah was silent as Chris walked back to the cabin and opened the door to the tool shed, disappearing inside for a moment. Around the cabin the woods rustled as the dew began to burn off the greenery, and the fauna settled into their routines. An experienced listener would be able to tell that the woods around were… loud, for lack of a better term. Even for springtime, there was more motion in the air than ever before.

Unfortunately, Chris was not an experienced listener.

The door to the shed swung open again, and Chris strode out holding a dolly. He crunched up the gravel to Sarah’s core, and crouched, attempting get some leverage. After a few moments, he swore, assumed proper deadlifting form, and managed to haul it up onto the metal frame.

A few minutes later, the core was in the corner of Uncle Bill’s tool shed, covered by a tarp.

If you are finished, there is a phenomenon that you would likely be interested in seeing before you leave the area.

Chris thought on that for a moment.

“A phenomenon, huh?” She hadn’t steered him wrong yet. “Well, what is it, and where?”

You would benefit more from the experience if you were to form your own conclusions before receiving an explanation. The phenomenon in question is roughly two thirds of a mile southwest of your current location.

“Alright, let me know if I’m going the wrong way.” Chris walked back to the car and grabbed his phone, a water bottle, and after a brief hesitation, his pocket knife from the glovebox. He slipped his phone and knife into the pocket of his jeans. He ran his hands over the smooth denim and wondered whether or not they felt less tight than usual.

His musings were more correct than he knew. Over the next few weeks and months, he would find that it was easier not to overeat, and quicker to put on muscle. The fat he did carry would be distributed more evenly, and his skin clearer and tighter. Now, Chris had never been noticeably overweight, but he had gone to seed in his first few years of college, and wasn’t showing any signs of improvement. In this world, there will always be people who, through some freak of genetics, are lucky. People who are healthy, and thin, and attractive with little effort. Chris had just become one, though he didn’t know it yet.

As Chris tracked through the trees, he felt a vague sense of unease settle over him. The trees seemed to close in around him, the ambient buzzing and rustling of the forest growing louder in his ears. The woods had never been a comfortable environment for Chris. He was the kind of person who was uneasy without a clear sightline of at least 15 feet around. To take his mind off of his surroundings, he experimented with the alien piece of information in his mind.

Status

Ongoing Effects: None

Shifts: Intelligent Design

Skills: Running 6, Boxing 5, Endurance 4, Flexibility 3, Meditation 3, Self-Control 2

Unallocated: 3 points

Well, he had gained a level in meditation yesterday, so that was nice. He had been so caught up in his new ability to control his focus that he had neglected to train anything else. It seemed that the system even recognized his new self-control as a skill. He amused himself by pulling up interesting shifts that he could think of, starting with one he’d seen before.

Corded Musculature: 0/X (38)

Restructures your body’s muscle fibers in a way that enables more efficient and greater generation of force.

“Sarah, why is the cost for Corded Musculature different? It used to be 50, and now its X? Also, what’s this number in parentheses?” he whispered. Sarah hadn’t told him to whisper, but it felt necessary.

Before your body was restructured, the cost listed for any shift was the point of diminishing returns for that improvement. For corded musculature, this would have been roughly triple your unaugmented strength. As a safety measure, the system does not allow individuals who have not been restructured to go beyond that point without a stronger foundation.

“Really? What would happen if you did?”

Depending on the shift, anything from total bodily collapse, to overheating your brain, to your organs being crushed under the weight of your musculature.

“I see.”

The point of diminishing returns is still listed, the number in parentheses. It is lower than before simply due to your body being more efficient than before. Everything is done more efficiently, even the restructuring from shifts. That same point of diminishing returns, again roughly three times your strength, would only take 38 points.

“Makes…. sense. What do you mean by diminishing returns? Less improvement, or none?”

Some improvement, but that is the point where the improvement is constrained by some other factor. To use Corded Musculature as an example, the shift improves your strength through the structure of your muscle fibers. However, there are many other factors than structure that go into strength. If you were to continue down that path, you might be unable to wield the increased strength with any control, or hurt yourself in its application. Here are the three shifts which would lead to the highest increase in the point of diminishing returns for this shift.

Improved Mind-Muscle Communication 0/X (80)

Improves the mechanism by which electrical signals travel between the brain and muscle, increasing the speed and fine control of movement.

Improved Muscular Composition 0/X (68)

Improves and strengthens the cellular composition of the organic fibers that make up your muscles.

Improved Skeletal Composition 0/X (42)

Improves and strengthens the composition of the bones and ligaments.

“Holy shit.” Chris shook his head in disbelief. “These are really specific. Is it possible to go more general? Like… super strength?”

Super Strength 0/X (150)

Increases strength to superhuman levels.

Yes, but you’ll find that each point will be a fair amount less effective, as the system has to assess how best to improve your strength. However, it works well as a stopgap if you have hit a wall and are unsure of how next to improve. You are approaching the phenomenon now.

“I’m coming up on the…” He said, and then he saw it. Through the trees, in the morning light, was a deer eating a nut off the ground. At least, it was probably a deer. The maybe deer was a dappled pattern of green on gray, blending in with the trees around it almost seamlessly. Its eyes also seemed… closer together than normal. He could tell that it was still a baby but it was almost to the height of his waist! And are those horns, no, those are antlers, of a dark grey metallic substance were poking out of its forehead.

“Wh… what?”

And the deer’s eyes snapped to him.