The following day, Sadde goes to town at a reasonable time to buy a tiny cactus with some of the proceeds from his terribly tedious job, and sneaks it into the bag with his clothing he brings to Isabella's room. It is inside a cute little box, which he offers Isabella the following morning when she wakes up, saying, "Happy three-month anniversary!"
Nothing obvious, although the military and government booths claim they will find a use for anybody.
"I'm a psion going precog, he's a mage going biokinesis," Isabella says. She takes the generic psion and the specific precog pamphlet the government offers her; the government gives Sadde corresponding literature.
"What kind of biokinesis?" asks the government.
"I can gendershift, but I've been working on healing since I left virtuality," he fibs the last part. "Way I feel my magic working, though, it's kinda all the same thing."
"Military's always got the most use for healers, but there's civilian-side things - VA healers don't have to be military themselves, foreign aid if you don't mind travel. I'm federal but if you go more local there are firefighting departments, especially out West where they have wildfires, who'd love to have a healer on hand."
"I don't know about the firefighters, but the federal government will put you through college and one gap year for a promise of five years' work if you can qualify for a security clearance or demonstrate aptitude exceptionally suitable to nonsecure use. You don't have to commit to military enlistment but under this option you may wind up being stationed on a military base, including one abroad, as a noncombatant, nonmilitary personnel sort of like the Red Cross or what have you."
Off they go, then. "That was informative, is it always the same booths or does it vary?"
"It's probably mostly the same, maybe some of the little companies change year to year. I don't remember exactly."
"Yeah. Well, the contact info might change, so if you don't pick something in the next year you could go update your phone numbers."
"I don't think picking anything while I'm technically a... what am I even, a sophomore? A freshman? Anyway, that, would be a good idea."
"And actually what am I? Like, officially? This doesn't really have the structure regular high schools do..."
"I don't think you are anything in the category of a grade or a nickname for a grade," she says. "It's just not structured that way. It's not a law that you have to be in a grade, you know, homeschooling exists." She heads for the building exit.
He, of course, follows. "I suppose. Does that mean I could just stretch my stay here indefinitely?"
"I think they boot you when you're eighteen or complete all your requirements and some further number of credits, whichever comes second."
"So, if I don't complete all my requirements for a long time I could stay for a long time if I wanted to," he muses.
"And I don't think I've ever heard of anyone here older than like 'just recently twenty' so there might be an age past eighteen where you have to hurry up and shoo anyway, you don't look like such a potential generous alumnus if they think you dawdle on getting things done."
"True. What do other eclipsed do between school and being able to effectively produce mountains of money?"
"I don't think society has evolved a good standard answer to that question. Virtuality's not that old."