Chapter 6 — Graduation
And thus begins Chapter Six.
Now, children.
Mith returned to the dance floor.
This time
equipped.
Framework understood.
Bait acquired.
Confidence restored.
The fisherman had completed orientation.
Now came fieldwork.
But before we continue,
the Archive must acknowledge one deeply unfair advantage Mith possessed over me.
Past Nuo.
Present Nuo.
Probably Future Nuo unless something extraordinary happens.
Children.
Body.
The council pauses.
Body?
Body.
Gymrat.
Muscles.
Shoulders.
Posture.
The general visual architecture of a man who voluntarily picks up heavy objects
and then puts them back down
for recreation.
Potentially
abs.
The council checks records.
Confirmed?
No.
Children.
I never checked.
Archive law.
We do not invent abs.
But plausible?
Very.
And me?
The council slowly turns.
Children.
Praise be
to the inventor of hoodies.
The greatest contribution to human civilization
since fire.
Perhaps language.
Maybe penicillin.
The council objects.
Hoodies.
Because beneath a hoodie?
Mystery.
Could be muscle.
Could be definition.
Could be
one,
perhaps two muffins away
from being medically classified as fat.
The council squints.
The point is
hoodie.
Concealer of anatomy.
Protector of dignity.
Guardian of uncertainty.
By the time a potential bonk partner discovered the truth,
perhaps she would already be sufficiently invested in the evening
to reconsider the administrative burden of leaving.
The council groans.
A magnificent garment.
Mith?
No such concealment required.
The man had visual credentials.
Useful.
Very useful.
So I watched.
From my wall.
Cigarette.
Observation Lounge operational.
And immediately
difference.
Earlier?
Mith stood like prey.
Eyes darting.
Who?
Where?
What do I do?
Now?
Scanning.
Children.
Important distinction.
Same eyes.
Different operating system.
Before:
panic.
Now:
selection.
He had bait.
He understood the lake.
And he was looking for
appropriate woman.
The council nods.
Professor Nuo?
Proud.
Very.
He had posture now.
Purpose.
Less:
Please tell me what to do.
More:
I know what I’m doing.
Or at least
I have enough information to convincingly imitate someone who does.
Children.
That is adulthood.
The council reluctantly agrees.
And then
Mith did something I had not taught him.
He sat down.
Pause.
The council watches.
He just
sat?
Yes.
Children.
And activated
Look Sad Protocol.
The council opens another classified technique file.
Wait.
You taught him this?
No.
That is the beauty.
I had used it myself before.
Occasionally.
With a respectable enough success rate.
But Mith?
No briefing.
No seminar.
No demonstration.
Free will.
His own terrible beautiful brain
had independently arrived at:
Maybe I should sit somewhere
and look emotionally wounded.
The council leans back.
Natural talent.
Exactly.
Children.
At that moment,
I knew the student had potential.
This was no longer imitation.
Adaptation.
He had understood the core principle
and produced his own technique.
The professor smiles.
Promising.
Very.
Mith sat.
Large man.
Muscular.
Sad face.
Somewhere inside a nightclub full of dancing,
drinking,
kissing students.
Children.
Visual contrast.
Useful.
A hulking creature sitting alone looking emotionally devastated
creates questions.
Why sad?
What happened?
Is this giant okay?
And remember Lesson One:
questions.
Questions are doors.
You merely need somebody curious enough to open one.
And then
female approaches.
The council leans forward.
Yes.
A woman noticed him.
Walked over.
Crouched down.
Face roughly level with his.
Children.
Immediate result.
No fishing rod required.
Fish came to inspect fisherman.
The council protests metaphor abuse.
Too late.
She said something perhaps.
He answered.
I could not hear.
Music.
Distance.
Crowd.
But based on everything we had just discussed?
Children.
Presumably
Bongo.
Maybe not immediately.
Maybe after one sentence.
Maybe two.
Archive does not contain subtitles.
But the sequence was clear enough.
She listened.
Mith spoke.
And then
hug.
Pause.
The council looks at Nuo.
Promising?
Very.
Extremely promising.
Children.
The Bongo Protocol had produced emotional contact.
I took another drag.
Professor satisfied.
Then a few more minutes passed.
And
she was on his lap.
The council erupts.
GRADUATION.
Exactly.
Children.
Arms around him.
Holding his head.
Close.
Comfortable.
Connection established.
The fisherman had caught his first
The council raises a finger.
Finish that metaphor carefully.
Fish.
Metaphorical.
Human woman.
Autonomous.
Fine.
The fisherman had successfully achieved
connection.
The council approves.
Barely.
Children.
Graduation complete.
No certificate required.
No gown.
No ceremonial hat.
The lap was the diploma.
I stood against the wall
looking at Mith
with the pride of a parent whose child had just completed university.
Except the university was Dee Tee
and the degree was
Applied Bonk Logistics.
The council refuses accreditation.
Cowards.
But more importantly
my involvement was finished.
This mattered.
Because the hard part for Mith had never been:
What do I do once somebody likes me?
Children.
That?
He knew.
Kochi training.
Slow burn framework or not,
the man understood conversation.
Attention.
Keeping someone entertained.
Being funny.
Being warm.
Being
Mith.
Once the initial connection existed,
he no longer required Professor Nuo.
He was back on familiar terrain.
The council nods.
Engineering resumed.
Exactly.
Foundation established.
Now he knew how to build.
Would bonk happen?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
No longer my department.
Children.
He had reached self sufficiency.
I would not hover nearby giving hand signals.
No:
Lean left.
Say this.
Now deploy dog grief.
No.
That would be horrifying.
The student had graduated.
Go forth.
Do whatever adults do once Professor Nuo stops watching.
The council immediately points out that Nuo is still watching.
Different.
I was admiring my work.
Children.
Mith sat there.
Woman on lap.
Arms around his head.
Clearly engaged.
And I?
Proud.
Proud Nuo is proud.
There are moments in friendship where you think:
Look at him.
My boy.
This was one.
Deeply stupid context.
Real emotion.
The council accepts.
Now.
Primary objective
complete.
The council checks mission board.
MITH BONK PARTNER ACQUISITION ASSISTANCE:
Successful enough to terminate supervision.
Exactly.
Which meant
new quest marker.
Children.
The original quest marker.
The ancient one.
The reliable one.
The one Manipal Nuo entered Dee Tee carrying even before Mith required remedial education.
The council sighs.
Find Nuo a bonk partner.
Correct.
Because let us not lose sight of the night.
I had spent a respectable amount of time
educating Mith.
Watching Mith.
Smoking cigarettes.
Feeling proud of Mith.
Lovely.
Beautiful.
Brotherhood.
But children
Nuo remained Nuo.
And Dee Tee remained Dee Tee.
There were attractive women everywhere.
The evening remained young.
The rum buzz remained functional.
And Professor Nuo’s office hours
closed.
The council sees the transition.
Teacher mode?
Off.
Hunter mode?
Maybe don’t call it that.
Fair.
Participant mode.
Better.
I pushed away from the wall.
Looked once more toward Mith.
Still occupied.
Excellent.
No need to interfere.
No need to check on him.
No need for Legal Council.
No need for Muscle Division.
He had his own side quest now.
And I
mine.
The council updates objectives.
PRIMARY QUEST:
Find mutually interested attractive woman.
POSSIBLE REWARD:
Bonk.
Children.
Classic Manipal.
The evening had finally returned to familiar programming.
No more mentorship.
No more tutorials.
No more deer rehabilitation.
Just Nuo
in Dee Tee
with a cigarette ending between his fingers
and the ancient confidence of a man
who has absolutely no business being as confident as he is.
The council smiles.
There he is.
Exactly.
Now.
One interesting thing.
Watching Mith succeed had changed my mood.
Not enormously.
But enough.
Children.
His nervousness had been entertaining.
His graduation?
Even better.
And there is something infectious about seeing your friend suddenly having a great time.
The room becomes more inviting.
The possibilities feel larger.
The night appears
generous.
So I looked around.
Not darting.
Scanning.
The council notices parallel.
Oh.
Yes.
Children.
Professor and student had converged.
Except unlike Mith,
I had spent enough nights here
that scanning required no conscious effort.
You notice groups.
Energy.
Who appears bored.
Who appears engaged.
Who is dancing.
Who is waiting for someone.
Who is
The council interrupts.
We are not turning this into a hunting manual.
Fine.
Archive.
Not tutorial.
The point?
I looked.
And somewhere in the noise,
the next part of the night waited.
Children.
We had entered Dee Tee with two men.
One experienced in this ecosystem.
One completely out of his depth.
Less than an hour later?
Mith had adapted.
Found his rhythm.
Found company.
And Nuo
was finally free to stop being a teacher
and return to being the same idiot
who had taught the class.
The council closes the academic department.
DEE TEE UNIVERSITY:
One graduate.
Professor immediately resigns to pursue personal interests.
Correct.
Thus concludes Chapter Six.
The Body Advantage.
The Gymrat.
The Muscles.
The Unconfirmed Abs.
The Praise Of Hoodies.
The Concealment Of Human Anatomy.
The Fisherman’s Return.
The Difference Between Darting And Scanning.
The Independent Invention Of Look Sad Protocol.
The Student Surpassing The Lesson Plan.
The Woman.
The Approach.
The Crouch.
The Presumed Bongo Deployment.
The Hug.
The Lap.
The Embracing Of The Head.
The Successful Graduation.
Proud Nuo.
The Return Of Mith To Familiar Social Terrain.
The End Of Professor Nuo’s Involvement.
And
The New Quest Marker.
Children.
Mith had arrived at Dee Tee
a deer in headlights.
I gave him the lake.
The bait.
Bongo.
And then he independently discovered Look Sad Protocol.
Within minutes,
a woman was sitting on his lap
hugging his head.
The council issues diploma.
Mith had graduated.
Which meant I could finally focus on the person who truly mattered.
Me.
