It's been a little while. They make it hard to tell the time; sometimes the daily schedules follow a clear pattern, sometimes they don't, and everything happens so quickly, and drains the trainees so completely... most give up on counting the days early on. There is, at least, plenty of sunlight on physical days. Mental and spiritual days aren't so forgiving.

Repeating pieces of scripture for long enough, with enough required focus (the instructors always, always know) is perhaps worse than being forced to run around the facility in a hair shirt. At least then there are spaces to think in. Things to pretend not to look at. Refuge in the burning. Voices to listen to and sing with and become a powerful nothing, a diffuse cluster of beautiful wriggling worms.

Today is, ostensibly, a resting day. Everyone is always on edge during them ever since a resting day was interrupted by a surprise PT session, initiates running around base in their pants and undershirts shouting scripture longer than they ever would have if perhaps they got ready a few moments faster, angered their superiors a little less. Everyone is always ready, now, and being ready is also tiring.

She's alone, because if you aren't doing anything you're alone, here. There are books—AetherOps commissioned readers and helpers on applied theology—but it's hard to have the mental energy to read them.

The bed, though, is nice.