My Future Self Is Ruining My Life! 50 Greyscale Books

Michael pondered the System's statement as he opened his eyes back into reality. His body felt completed rested, though his head still ached and his brain felt tired. Still, he was pretty satisfied with the couple of hours of basic combat practice he'd been able to perform within the s.p.a.ce. He quickly threw out a few awkward strikes while acknowledging a notification he'd received near the end of his time.

<'unarmed combat'="" skill="" unlocked.="" sub-skill="" 'basic="" military="" combat="" form'="" tracked.="">>

"So, Unarmed Combat will track individual styles if I learn them?"

"Yep! Hurry up and improve on the basic form and the weight lifting so you can complete that other mission! I'm curious to see what you'll unlock," was the excited response Michael heard resonating in his head.

"Wait, you don't know?", Michael replied, puzzled.

"Well, sort of. I have a good idea of what it will be, but I won't know for sure until you complete the mission. After all, I'm not the author - based on the parameters of the mission, I have access to certain rewards, and I know what should be a.s.sociated with a given mission."

Michael took a moment to absorb this new information. He wasn't in a place to unpack the complexities of the relations.h.i.+p between the System and his future self at this point, so he decided to leave it alone for now. As far as his combat practice was concerned, he had determined that just practicing within the Lucid s.p.a.ce was not going be nearly enough.
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He had realized that while his idea was good, there were serious limitations. For one, he could only practice the form, but he had nothing to interact with in the s.p.a.ce. For another, even if he had the Centurion's lecture recorded, it would never improve. He had some ideas on how he could improve the overall process, though, and he'd test some of those out with his next opportunity, but at the end of the day, the form included a lot of throws and holds, and those weren't things he could practice properly in isolation.

"It seems that I'll still need to find a teacher," he murmured glumly. After all, the Lucid s.p.a.ce wasn't a complete cheat - it was really just a way to use his own memories, imagination and predictive abilities to perform glorified thought experiments. It couldn't replace hard work. He then stretched and made his way over to exercise mat.

Since it was Sunday, he'd decided to incorporate the yoga and internal martial arts forms he'd read up on prior to his calisthenics. He still wasn't used to the changes to his body's senses, which made him feel every muscle movement individually, but he thought that in this instance it would be particularly useful.

The sensation was quite distracting, but as he it forced him to notice the movement of each muscle, he was able to determine which muscles were being activated in each exercise. He compared this with what the literature said he should be feeling to try to confirm that he was performing the exercises properly. He focused on following through the motions without being concerned about his speed, maintaining his breathing and completing a cycle of each of the exercises, albeit haltingly.

Still, he saw some minor boosts to his coordination sub-attribute, so it appeared to be meeting the intended purpose. Satisfied, he proceeded to perform his regular exercise routine, then got ready and went out for his run.

---

After he'd returned and showered, he had breakfast with his family before saying goodbye and heading out to the location Mr. Maddox had given him. He'd taken a moment to look it up online and then had the System record the proper route, saving him from having to jot down the directions and follow them by hand.

He hesitated a bit over what to wear, since it was the weekend and he didn't need to wear his uniform. However, he was going to be working for someone on the school staff, so he wasn't sure what the appropriate dress would be. Ultimately, he decided on a collared s.h.i.+rt, a pair of beige slacks, and a grey v-neck sweater over top. He decided to wear his usual pea coat over top, despite the fact that it had the school logo emblazoned on the breast. His only other option was his winter anorak, and that would be much too heavy for the fall air. He lamented his lacking wardrobe, which wasn't normally a problem for a student but quickly presented an issue for an aspiring entrepreneur.

Since he still had a while before he needed to be there, he'd decided to walk. As it happened, the address was on the other side of the downtown core, so he ended up pa.s.sing by the cafe, which hadn't opened yet. As he walked down the quiet Sunday morning streets of the downtown, he enjoyed the sun and crisp fall air as he walked towards the river.

Soon, he was following a pedestrian and cycling path through the main downtown park. There were a few morning joggers and cyclists enjoying the weather as well, and he smiled and nodded to folks as they pa.s.sed by. He contemplated taking a longer jog some day and enjoying this route himself as he approached his destination.

The address led him to what appeared to be a large riverside warehouse or factory. It was fenced in by cobblestone half-walls topped with wrought iron, with a small bra.s.s sign and an electronic call bell next to the gate.

"Greyscale Books," Michael murmured as he observed the image of three overlapping circles, one hollow, one shaded, and one completely filled in. The pattern reminded Michael of something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he set it aside as he confirmed the address and pressed the buzzer. Shortly, he heard a familiar voice ring out from the speaker.

"Who is it?"

"It's Michael Prout, sir," the boy said hesitantly.

"Ah. You're right on time," the librarian's voice said in an almost accusatory manner. "Come in."

Michael heard the electronic buzzing sound that signified the gate unlocking, and it slowly slid it self to the side. He stepped into a tastefully appointed paved courtyard. An outdoor lounge area complete with fountain and fire pit was laid out between the gate and the building, with a lawn and garden visible from the far side. The side nearest to Michael was paved all the way to the river, where a dock jutted out into the river. The closest face of the building had ma.s.sive windows near the top, and immense doors at the front that would have been big enough for two large trucks to pa.s.s side by side.

After Michael had had only a few moments to look around, he heard the sound of metal sc.r.a.ping on the other side of the door, and a smaller portal inset into one side of the ma.s.sive entrance opened up to reveal Mr. Maddox himself. The man was dressed in his usual style, sporting a waistcoat, collared s.h.i.+rt, and knit tie. He quickly gave Michael a cursory glance before grunting and turning back into the building.

"Come in. Hang your coat up there, next to the door. You can leave your shoes on on the first floor, but I ask that you take them off if you go up to the second. Also, I appreciate that it's the weekend and you're a teenager, but I'd ask that you still wear a tie next time you come."

Michael cautiously followed him in through the smaller door into what appeared to be a entryway, removing his coat as instructed. He winced internally at the last sentence, then registered the final portion of the librarian's sentence.

"Next time, sir?"

"Of course. I doubt you'll finish today."

"Finish what, exactly sir?"

"Building the electronic catalogue, of course."

Michael followed the man out of the entryway into the next area, where he quickly had to stifle an audible gasp.

What appeared from the outside to be a large building turned out to be mostly one giant room, which stretched from one set of giant doors to another at the far end of the building, which Michael guessed was almost up to the river's edge. Lining the room in row upon row of towering shelves was more books than Michael had seen in his entire life.