CHAPTER ELEVEN: ...But Not Insane
Ambros woke in his tent in the swamp. He sat up, stretching, and rolled his shoulders. He crawled out of bed.
He stood and did an abbreviated set of stretches and calisthenics, then sat on top of his sleeping bag. He assumed the position he called ‘quarter-lotus’, which was an excellent passive stretch for his legs and hips.
As he stretched, he pondered: “I was never able to reach the Full Lotus position, however hard I tried...”
He tried it again, and, somewhat to his surprise, achieved the goal: “Ahhhh!” he cried out, briefly in intense agony. He had to use his hands to pull the upper leg off of his thigh before he could unwind himself.
He sat a while, stunned: “Okay,” he said: “I’ve been exercising and stretching a lot more lately...it’s not just something I do for myself. Now it’s part of my job...”
He sat nodding, adding up all of the little changes that he’d noticed over the past five months.
‘It’s not just that I’m exercising and stretching,’ he thought: ‘The Combat Medical treatments I’ve been getting are having more and more effects as time goes on. Each treatment adds stuff, and the effects are cumulative.’
He realized what that was leading up to: “I’m not Superman, and I won’t ever be...but with that armor, that tech…”
He shook his head, dismissing the disturbing train of thought. “Enough fantasies. I got work to do.”
He knew he was putting off an important insight: “Who cares?’
He tapped his MPS alight and looked over the Calendars, separating and merging them and thinking about all of the things he had to do. A quick check showed him the time in the Commonwealth: “First bell plus fifty leptae...forty-five minutes past 7:30 AM...eight fifteen USIT time. I slept in.”