"Zachary: that is a fine and ancient name. God Remembers."
Professor Enkins was sitting behind an industrial steel desk in a largely bare office. The professor had dark, leathery skin and unusual features: sharp chin, sharp nose, large light-brown eyes that seemed almost liquid. And that gaze never wavered.
Zach stood awkwardly.
"Sit, sit. Tell me why you're here."
The professor spoke as if reciting a formula, as if he knew the answer but was simply going through the pleasantries.
There were a couple of cheap looking padded shairs and a couple more stackable plastic chairs. Zach took one of the padded chairs.
"I apologize for the lack of décor. I know: a professor's office should be stacked with ancient volumes. Or perhaps in this building, overflowing with petri dishes and microscopes. But I share this with five other adjuncts and we try to keep out of each other's way. Academia is like an aging movie starlet doped up on football money and whoring for just one more chance at the big screen."
Zach blinked.
"Ah, right, sorry. Go ahead: did you have some questions about the assignment?"
"You said... you mentioned meditation or something. I was... curious."
Enkins peered at him intently.
Zach could not get a read on his age. His hair was salt and pepper, shaggy but in a somewhat stylish way. His face showed lines of age and care, but still seemed bright with vigor. After just a moment, he had to look away. That gaze was weirdly strong.
"Yes, I did. Something like that. The brain, I believe I said, has been studied through damage, by taking away parts and seeing what breaks. But there are others who have studied it at capacity: not by dissection but through the direct application of mental focus and exercise. In this way, some humans have reduced the machine to complicated machine while others have elevated it to a mystical vortex."
Zach nodded. "Is there anything to it? The mystical vortex?"
"Sort of yes, sort of no. It's not all about the brain, but that's certainly a good place to start. So: would you like to get more out of your brain?"
"Um, yes. Yes. That's why I came."
"Wonderful, Zechariah! Wonderful. Here's my offer: attend my office hours for each of the next five weeks, and at the end of these six sessions, you can tell me if you are not in possession of the finest mind on campus and I will refund your payment in full. That's a joke. There's no money involved. Just a little joke."
"But, is it meditation? I have tried meditating and to be honest it doesn't work that well for me."
"A common experience, my young student. Meditation is a very slow path. And it has its own hazards. It can work, but it has a drawback: after years of hard work, when the full capacity of your being comes into focus, you will have lost all desire to put that capacity to any great use! I can't quite call it a devil's bargain, but it's something like that. No... there are much faster paths when you have the right instructor."
"So, what then?"
"That, my impatient young man, I am going to demonstrate."
Enkins rose from behind his desk. He seemed taller here than in the lecture hall, and a fierce presence seemed to fill the room.
"Lean back, Zechariah, and find a point the ceiling on which to fasten your gaze. No, even a little higher. There. Now keep your focus on that point as if there was nothing else in the universe. I am going to show you one little tweak to your brain that will start you on your new path. Listen to my voice, now, as I count from ten to one. Don't look away from that point, but let the vibration of my voice resonate in your mind. Ten. Breathe deeply. Nine. Relax your muscled. Eight..."
* * *
Zach started awake. Had he fallen aleep right here in Professor Enkins' borrowed office?
"How do you feel?"
Zach noticed that he felt incredibly good. Strong. Filled with ... power. Something he had never really felt in his life. It was a deep feeling.
"Good, I guess," he said, downplaying it considerably.
Enkins smiled. "Good."
