Chapter 18

  Several weeks passed. I didn't go out again, though I could feel someone's eyes on me almost all the time. I'm not sure if it was good eyes, or bad eyes, but I knew I was being watched. I did my class work, learned new Patterns, better Thread control, more theories than you can shake a stick at, and kept my head down. In my off time, I still tried to compress Threads and attempted to Braid them over and over again. I still hadn't figured out why they repulsed each other, though.

  While I wasn't able to compress Threads much, I did have a bit more success there. Slowly, they would shrink. Not much, not enough to make a difference in Weaving, yet, but progress is progress. I wasn't going to knock it.

  I tried Braiding every type of Thread, then even tried mixing and matching. Every time, they repelled each other. Unless they were being Weaved directly, they did not want touch. Why? I couldn't figure that out. I did start learning to pull longer Threads from the Spool though, which eventually gave be an idea. What if I tried to just Twist a single Thread that looped back on itself. Would it repel itself?

  Turns out, it does not repel itself, and it can be Twisted. The issue, however, is in locking a Twist, as it will unravel rather quickly. Braiding would be self-locking, if I could figure it out, but Twisting was not. At least, not the way I was attempting to do it. So how did one lock the Twist in? I didn't know. The teachers I asked also did not know. Apparently, it was possible and had been done before, not a full Braid or Rope, but Twisting a Thread back on itself to increase it's power density, but it was an advanced technique that many current Weavers either couldn't do, didn't know could be done, or didn't know how to do if they did. They were a little shocked that I had theorized it was possible, actually. They were more shocked when I asked about compressing the Threads.

  "No one has ever succeeded in compression, don't even try. Many of those who have tried have ended up blowing themselves up. It's intensely difficult to squeeze the Threads to begin with, and if you do manage that, locking it in a Compressed state is all but impossible. Once it rebounds to it's normal size, it will release that energy, taking you out with it. That is dangerous, so don't even think of trying it!" That's what I was told, or a version of it, by every teacher I asked.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Of course, that didn't mean I wouldn't keep trying, but it did mean, I would have to be a little more careful with it. I didn't want to blow myself up, or anything else for that matter. But learning how to do that still sounded like a power option. Maybe something from Earth would help here, I'd have to think on it some more.

  Between attempting to learn how to Twist, and eventually Braid, Thread, how to Compress it for more power, and learning as much as the Academy could teach me, I eventually forgot about the man, or looking for the Pattern he hid on me. I could only hope that it would fade away, and I would eventually be able to tell someone what happened. I didn't trust that the guy didn't take writing, signing, or other forms of communication into account with his Pattern, so I didn't even attempt, for fear of destroying the Academy.

  I did not see the Headmaster again. Seems he dumped me in with the rest of the students. Luckily, if there was any cutthroat politicking going on in the Academy, they avoided me with it. I was fine with that. I nodded politely when someone acknowledged me, but other than that, I did not go out of my way to talk with people. If they asked, I would answer, then excuse myself back to my studies. Eventually, they started seeing me as the weird kid that rarely ever talked, only learned.

  I spent time with the books when I couldn't practice Weaving. I learned more in that first year than most of the other students would learn in all their years they went to the Academy for, whether it was two (the minimum), or eight (the maximum). Most left after three, though I planned to stay as long as they let me.

  Time passed, as it always does, though. Memories fade, though caution remained. I got used to the eyes that seemed to follow me. I knew there were multiples, I could see the Patterns out of the corner of my eyes. Sometimes it would be one, sometimes two, occasionally three or even more. It got to the point where I just ignored them. Let them watch.

  Soon enough, my first year at the Academy would end. Little did I know, that with the end of the first year, came the end of my solitude. I would soon be forced to join the Elite, whether I wanted to or not.