“She talked the guy down?”
Kaem barked a laugh, “No. She kicked his ass. She’s got a black belt.” Dreamily, he said, “I’ve wanted one ever since.”
Arya likes to fight?! Lee wondered in astonishment. She was about to ask about it, but Kaem stopped. “This is the dojo.”
She looked up at the logo of a kicking man above the words “Lago Dojo.” She thought disappointedly, I guess Kaem’s macho after all. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kaem said, “Um, Lee?” When she turned, he said, “You might consider taking a self-defense course yourself.”
She reacted according to her non-violent upbringing. “What? No!”
He tilted his head. “What we’re planning to do is going to make some people mad. I hope none of them react physically but… you never know what’s going to happen when folks get excited.”
She narrowed her eyes, “What’s going to anger people, and why are we doing it?”
“Building a space elevator. There’re going to be groups objecting to our obstruction of their view, and some complaining about the noise, and people who lose jobs to the competition.” He shrugged, “And a whole bunch of things we haven’t even considered.”
Lee thought, I’ve been a Pollyanna, seeing only the benefits of the tower! Of course, some people are going to take exception! She said, “I-I’m going to hope none of them react physically,” and turned to continue on her way. Am I just burying my head in the sand? she wondered.
She was so focused on her own worries she didn’t notice the concerned look on Kaem’s face.
***
Kate Warren, an assistant instructor at Lago Dojo surveyed her beginner students. They ranged in age from almost teenagers to a woman in her fifties. She’d had them for just a few sessions so far but already knew most of them would never become proficient. Most likely they’d been motivated to take karate as a form of exercise with the side benefit that they’d learn something about protecting themselves, not because they hoped to compete. Some of the young boys had probably been signed up by parents concerned that they might be bullied. “Okay,” she said. “Who can demonstrate the Gedan Barai for deflecting hammer that we learned in the last class?”
No one stepped forward. Sweeping their eyes, most looked uncertain. Probably because they’d forgotten which of the drills they’d practiced was the one named Gedan Barai. “Come on,” she said. “Somebody volunteer. Don’t make me pick on one of you.”
The black guy in his twenties, Seba, stepped forward and bowed. She wasn’t sure what to make of him so far. She didn’t think she’d ever had a young man in her class who was in worse physical condition, but he also seemed to learn strikes, blocks, and drills faster than any student she’d had before.
She gave him a nod. “Seba-Kun, please demonstrate.”
Seba made another bow, then—though she’d only expected one step in slow motion—he performed the three steps of the Gedan Barai going forward, then immediately reversed and completed the three steps moving backward. This was how she’d had them performing it by the end of the last session. Huh, she thought, used to the quality of the performance of a drill deteriorating between sessions. He did that as well as he did at the end of the last session. He must’ve been practicing.
Maybe I do have one serious student.
She stepped forward and complimented him on his execution and on practicing between sessions. She caught the surprised look on his face as she mentioned his practice and felt smug that she’d recognized it.
She didn’t consider the possibility that he might not have practiced.
Soon she had her students going through the drill together as she critiqued each one, working with them to improve their form.
That evening she thought back over Seba’s drills. It’s as if I only have to show him once. From then on, he does it perfectly… well at least as perfectly as I was able to get him to do it when I worked with him. As if it only takes one performance to set it perfectly into his muscle memory. Not the many repetitions it takes everyone else. Not all the practice it takes me, she thought, vexed. He also seems to be in a lot better condition than he was in the first session. She gave a mental shrug. He’s probably been practicing every day, she decided. A serious student.
***
Kaem walked home after his karate class, exhilarated. Any one of the drills constituted more exercise than he’d ever undertaken at one time before. After each drill, he kept feeling surprised that he wasn’t exhausted. That he felt able to do another, then another and another. That this session seemed easier than the first one he’d gone to on Monday just a week ago. The second one last Thursday had been a little easier than that first one, but this one seemed substantially easier. Is it just because my blood counts are still improving and this is how easy exercise is for everyone else? he wondered. Or is it because I’m getting in shape from the exercise? Even working out seems easy compared to the complaints I’ve heard from others about how painful training is for them. Maybe I just think it’s easy compared to the way minimal physical exertion used to just kill me?
Maybe I could take up jogging too?
He ran a few steps, still in his old mindset that a few strides were all he could do. But, after he stopped, he realized that it hadn’t tired or stressed him at all.
He jogged the entire last block to reach his apartment, feeling more and more excited. Reaching it, he turned back and looked back the way he’d come. That was a little bit uphill. Before my gene therapy, it would’ve had trouble just walking up it!
He
