Chapitre 5: Seeing mom again
As soon as Michael regained control over his emotions, he hurried to go home to figure out all the specifics of Glory. It was wonderful, a tech program from a world of sword-flying immortals, with what Michael expected to be a functioning AI.
As he walked down the stairs, he heard voices coming from the floor below, and realized that the exam in room 204 must have come to an end. Michael didn't anyone to see him in the school an hour after his dismissal, so he hushed his footsteps and even quieted down his breathing.
"And that Russian kid? Ridiculous! Everyone knows that history teachers are some of the most strict and ruthless here! He must have stones of steel to talk back like that!"
"Pffft, what stones, his face in the end was so pitiful, I wanted to give him a few bucks".
"Yeah, he looked more pitiful that a beggar on the streets!"
"Guys, come on. He did it for all of us, you know? He wanted to do something good, not to attract attention. If you ask me, you should be thanking him" this voice sounded slightly familiar to Michael, but he couldn't place it at all. It was one of the children in the room with him today, but Michael felt that he heard that voice more than just once.
The footsteps of younger kids didn't even fade yet, when softer, lower voices appeared, as older students followed energetic kids out of the school.
"That's what you call a speech! So grand, so majestic!"
"I don't think he can become a student here, but I guess I could make note of him for my dad, that kid is sure to grow up to become a skilled public speaker. What was his name again?"
"Mikhail Severniy. Just remember as Michael Northern and then translate into Russian".
"Thanks, that's much easier".
'Well,' thought Michael, 'That's why I changed my name as well. Hard to interact with people when half of them can't remember your name and the other half butchers it with their pronunciation'.
After everyone else left and there were no other sounds of footsteps, Michael made his way down and passed a security guard with a straight face. As he went down the set of stairs in front of the building, he saw all the facilities that belonged to the school.
Over 30 buildings, including several school buildings, a café and a restaurant, three shops, a small concert hall, teachers' and students' dorms, living quarters for other personnel and their own classrooms for some of them, several sports facilities, and many more. The school provided its students with whatever their hearts desired and demanded almost nothing in return except for academic excellence. Of course, for the rich and powerful, no rule was unbreakable, and the school was somewhat divided between actual talents and geniuses on the one hand and rich kids that struggled on the other hand. There were measures for making sure the rich kids never felt like that though.
Michael walked along the football field and the running track towards the gates that separated this little oasis of imagination and nurture from the gray outside world. There, outside of the school territory, were several buildings which also belonged to the school, parents' living quarters among them. For many of the rich students, their parents were too busy to spend their days close to their children, so they assigned servants and nannies to look after them. For those who weren't that excessive financially, and chose not to rely on the school's caretakers, they moved to the school together with their children.
In his past life, Michael used to live in the students' dorms on workdays and spend time with his mom on weekends. His mother worked as a clothing store manager nearby after transferring to another company from Russia, but kept her job seniority with the school's assistance.
Now, they were both still here temporarily, uncertain whether they would have to move back to Russia or stay here for several years. That depended on Michael's exam results. Of course, Michael was aware that he would have to bring home bad news.
But even though he was heartbroken about not being able to go to school with his friends all over again, his attention lay with Splendid Glory and its promises of a bright future.
"Alright, Glory" he murmured softly, "How do I cultivate exactly?"
"Link between host and infofield is already established. Host can cultivate directly".
"Uhmm, Glory, I've never cultivated before. I have no idea how to do it, directly or otherwise".
A short silence followed, which didn't concern Michael. He knew that Glory simply had to take time to answer some of his more complex questions.
"World Tree cultivation is very close to host's memories of meditation. Host should assume a comfortable position and follow a set of relaxation techniques. Set can be purchased for 10 glory points. Then, Glory will stimulate host's infolink to receive energy from infofield".
"Excuse me, purchase for glory points? I don't have any glory points! Glory, are you a pay-to-play program? I was cheated! I thought you were here to help me cultivate!" Michael exclaimed in dismay.
"Glory is a program designed specifically for cultivation. Process of cultivation does not require any glory points".
"Then what are they and why do I need them?"
"Glory points are a clear representation of host's interaction with infofield. Cultivation is a process of receiving energy from infofield. When host strives to become a perfect being, infofield recognizes the attempts and pushes more energy into infolink. Glory presents this excess energy as glory points. Host can manage glory points freely".
"Well, if I don't need them for cultivation, aren't they unnecessary?"
After a short pause, Splendid Glory responded with what Michael thought sounded like a ridiculing undertone, "Host, glory points are necessary to cure LZD1".
"Great" he responded helplessly, "So what do I do to get points?"
"Host has to learn by himself".
Well, that was unexpected. Seemed like this program had some more rules.
Michael approached a small block of flats near the school gates. The grey building would've become his weekend home for the following few years if he hadn't messed everything up. He entered the building using the key he found in his pocket. After going up to the eighth floor, he turned right and inserted the key into the door.
It didn't budge.
'Something's not right' he thought. This was the apartment where he lived with his mother for 6 years, he couldn't be wrong. He took a closer look at the key chain in his hands. The keychain had three keys, for the building, the apartment and the mailbox, and also a tag that said "803". How could it be 803? He lived in 805!
He tried to use the key to open apartment 803, and the door opened easily. Michael heard some noises inside – his mother was vacuum cleaning the carpet. He took off his shoes and entered the guest room.
His mother wasn't young anymore, but she looked much better than he remembered. Even though she was already close to 50, she didn't look her age. Her hair still retained its lush chestnut color, and there were no wrinkles on her face. She was slim in a healthy way, but her hands were a bit rough because of the hard work she had to do when Michael was younger. When she heard the door close, she looked at her son and smiled brightly.
"Misha, how was it?" she asked in Russian, still getting used to speaking English every day. She could explain herself when she had to, but Russian came much easier to her. On the other hand, she hired a tutor for Michael to teach him English when he was only 5 years old.
She was always like that, giving everything to her talented son, trying to build a bright future for him with her two hands, believing in him even when he had trouble landing a job after university. She passed away shortly before Leon announced himself at Michael's door and gleefully explained that Michael would never be able to find a job, he would make sure of that. To her last day, Michael's mother believed that her son would be able to find success and happiness.
As he saw his mother's bright smile, Michael almost broke down in tears. He held her in his arms and hugged her tightly, saying "I'm not sure, mom. It was really tough. Let's just wait for a few days and see".
He couldn't break her heart, not after she left everything she knew in order to move so far away to provide him with the best education he could get. There and then he swore to use everything in his disposal to make money, to make sure his mother wouldn't have to work another day in her life.
"I love you so much, mom" he whispered.
"Oh, Misha, it will be alright. Worst case, we'll go back to Russia and you can go to one of the schools for gifted children there" she said with emotion.
"Ding! 5 glory points earned for filial piety. Host is a good son! Please, work hard in the future" agreed Glory.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
BlackInk
BlackInk Hey, everyone!
Mikhail is actually pronounced "Mee-huh-EEL" (did I do that right?) and Misha is an informal way of address specifically for Mikhails. In Russian, terms of endearment are sometimes built into names.
Please, leave a short comment and let me know what you think!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone