I don't remember saying a word the rest of that evening. I must have, Samantha had us together to get to know each other. She told us about our training courses and where we'd be escorted tomorrow, what we'd learn and what to bring. I was exhausted. Cadmus and Balthasar were laughing and boisterous. We went to dinner and ate and were escorted back to our room. This was my first night sharing a space with anyone besides my family. I cleaned up and slipped into bed like an oil slick. My roommates asked me some questions, I don't remember answering them. I stared at the wall and let their words fall over me. I began to realize the impossibility of my vow not to talk to anyone.
"Goodnight." I closed my eyes as I said it, scared to see their faces.
"Goodnight Aaron." They said.

I fell asleep, and that was it. My training began the next morning. We went to class, like most children do. Our days were split between new limb training and traditional school. We learned history, literature, math, science. We learned how to use our new arms to grab things with neutral beams, to carve things toys out of raw material, how to get up after falling down. New children were admitted throughout the years, just like any school. We had our cliques, they were revolved around our roomates. Cadmus and Balthasar did become my best friends. We went everywhere. We would join with other groups, but they switched. We joked, we talked, we made fun of teachers.

It was terribly normal. There were quiet kids, goofy kids, pranksters and smart kids. I was quiet, Cadmus was goofy and Balthasar was smart. It didn't make us special. Our personalities may have played rolls in how we communicated, but the tragectory of our lives continued on course whether or not we talked, or made too many jokes, or knew all the answers. Life was incredibly unconcerned with how we related to it.

The scientists had built into our new limbs a series of upgrades to be initiated after successful and demonstrated control of all the previous functioning capabilities. At first, our arms were only capable of using the neutral beams to carry things, to lift things like we would with our normal hands, things of that nature. When we were comfortable with that, we were upgraded to use the carving tool. This is a low grade laser capable of carving soft materials like rocks, wood and most synthetic material. We could adjust the scope of the beam and width of it to dig trenches, or carve toys. We learned how to be dextrous with our limbs.

I must mention that most rooms had a dampening code built into them to dissable every function but the neutral beams. Being young boys, they didn't want any mistakes to happen as a result of heightened emotions. They didn't want anybody losing another limb, or dying. Certain rooms and areas and practice grounds were modified to allow use of more capabilities. Staging grounds and training fields were modifiable to allow a greater range of uses.

The upgrades continued with age and experience. Soon we began to hold mock dog encounter scenarios. Our drill teachers taught us guerrilla tactics from earth and how to deploy them in open spaces. We ran through these drills for hours, three of us at a time, moving as a team. Our teachers were tireless, any mistake resulted in a new start. Sometimes we'd train for the entire day, moving quietly, eyes hard. Those days were tiring. For Balthasar it was a welcome relief from the pressure of his advanced math work. For me it was just another day. Balthasar was smart, but he was too carefree for math. These drills gave him open space to use math. He hated being confined. Cadmus, he loved everything.