—— ? ——

  Simon had never trained like this in his life.

  Not in martial arts. Not during physical therapy after the accident. Not even when he tried to learn about taxes.

  The issue wasn’t that he couldn’t grasp what he needed to do. The prompt was straightforward.

  All he needed was to give one performance that would show he understood the basics.

  Simon had been to college. Multiple subjects were not in his wheelhouse. But this place, this cursed realm of torture, was beyond studying some general education class you don’t care about.

  The first month had not gone well. Once Dr. Melo—formally known as an avatar of Melodian the Magnificent—had recovered from his initial shock, they got to work. His new teacher of circumstance had believed that his main avatar must have been overreacting.

  Boy, did Simon crush that hope into dust.

  By the second day, Dr. Melo was carrying around a bottle of the rainbow liquid wherever they practiced. The timer still ticked down at a painfully slow pace. Simon had hoped it would speed up or change.

  It had not; He still had nine years, eleven months, and twenty-some odd days to go.

  By the end of the first week, Dr. Melo had realized the Main Avatar hadn’t been exaggerating Simon’s lack of skill.

  Simon had tried and failed with a variety of instruments, art styles, artistic pursuits and so much more.

  “I think I understand why the main avatar set the requirements for your performance so abysmally low.” Dr. Melo remarked at the start of their second week. Simon had just finished his second attempt at comedy after long hours of coaching from his teacher. The crowd of memory shadows was helpfully explaining how untalented the poor human was.

  “Yeah, well, this wasn’t my first choice. Hell, did I even have a choice? I am trying as hard as I can, Dr. Melo.” Simon sighed. “This whole situation is just sad.” He quickly vacated the stage, tired of reading and hearing the crowd’s comments.

  “That we can both agree on, mortal. Let’s try another approach. You told me earlier that you have never had musical instruction, acting instruction, or anything of the sort?” Dr. Melo asked as he swirled the liquid in his half-full bottle. As it swirled, it gave off a dazzling display of light.

  “That’s right. I learned business at college. Then I had to survive, so there was not a lot of free time. “

  Simon said as he followed Dr. Melo out of the building. “Also, it’s Simon, not ‘mortal’. I don’t see this taking a small amount of time, so you might as well call me by my name.”

  The god nodded after hearing this, tapping his bottle in thought. He was deep in thought for several moments as they strolled along the circular path of the realm.

  “I will call you by your name when you prove any form of ability to me.” The god scoffed, “Let’s rectify that lack of knowledge. Learning the building blocks and theory should be the new goal for you. Normally, a student shows some type of talent as we try the various arts and instruments. But you are definitely an unusual case. Never have I met a mortal such as you.”

  Dr. Melo finished speaking as they approached the Harmonic Library. They entered, and Simon was greeted with a familiar sight.

  The Harmonic Library was alive with motion. Simon was sure there wasn’t a reason for it to be so, but it was still a sight to behold.

  Rows upon rows of bookshelves covered every wall. Pleasant lights hovered throughout the tall structure and lit its entirety. There were comfortable seating areas scattered along the main level. These had closer lights that could be adjusted by anyone sitting to give them their preferred lighting. In each area, there were books scattered on side tables and coffee tables, giving the place a feeling of being used and alive. Occasionally, one of these books would gently close itself, then take to the air and find its home. New books would slide from their places on the shelves and move to the reading areas.

  Each cardinal direction of the place had a sparkling white spiral staircase that climbed to the floor above. When Simon turned his gaze upwards, it was hard to make out the ceiling of the structure. Books flew across the expanse on every floor. Lights pulsated in the distance as they were adjusted. The walls not covered by the shelves were covered in flowing scripts of runic-like glyphs.

  All of this together gave the impression that invisible patrons were sitting in the alcoves and sitting areas, busily studying.

  Simon walked forward, taking the sight in again. He had thought it was interesting the first time they came in here, but his thoughts had been preoccupied with the Hall of Flowing Time.

  This place was exactly what Simon would have imagined a magical library to be.

  He approached the center of the building, where Dr. Melo had shown him how he could request books. A circular counter stood, carved out of a gorgeous white wood that had green lines flowing through it. Simon turned back to look at the god who had followed.

  “So, how exactly does this place work, now that you have put a limit on mental interference? I just come here and speak the names of books I need?” Simon asked.

  “Ah, so you remember its function. It’s almost an intelligent question. There may be hope for you yet, mortal. While the limit imposed prevents entities from intruding, you can project your thoughts. To make it simple for you to understand. Think at the construct, and it will react.” Dr. Melo said and then took a seat in a nearby sitting area. “But you shouldn’t worry about this. I will pick your reading material for the foreseeable future. Your case requires a firm guiding hand. For now, summon yourself a book while I think.”

  Simon rolled his eyes mentally. Recently, the god had been adding snide remarks whenever he asked questions. He was pretty sure it was after his singing performance. Dr. Melo had told him it sounded like a goat giving birth to a trombone. Those insults had become a recurring trend with the grumpy god.

  He looked at the counter and thought about what he wanted. Today’s comedic performance was embarrassing. Maybe that was a good place to start.

  Ok, magical counter. I want a book for someone who has never performed stand-up comedy. Simon thought at the counter.

  This felt really stupid.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  As if to prove him wrong, he saw a book come off the shelves and fly quickly down to the counter.

  He read the title and its introduction.

  “So You Think You’re Funny: A Beginner’s Guide for First-Time Fools”

  By Merran Farstride, Bard of the Bitter String

  So, you decided you’re funny. Welcome to the life of a fool.

  Before we begin, let’s make one thing clear: comedy is not easy. It is not kind. And it absolutely does not care about your feelings.

  It is a stage with no mercy, an audience with no patience, and a spotlight that makes fools of the unready.

  You will die on stage.

  Not just metaphorically — in some realms, you might literally die from a terrible performance.

  I’ve performed for drunk kings, angry warlords, weeping widows, and one sapient mushroom colony that only laughed at existential dread. That was a tough crowd.

  In my travels, I have seen Fools flee with brimming eyes, nearly every object imaginable thrown, and the worst offenders. Fools explaining the punchline.

  Think carefully if this is the path you should choose. But if you’re stubborn, reckless, or simply desperate enough, continue to read, my dear fool.

  In this book, I will cover the fundamentals. I will explain why our first instinct is wrong, how to survive the first silence, when to stop talking (much sooner than most would believe), and how to find your first honest laugh.

  Welcome to the stage, new fool.

  — Merran Farstride

  “Not a horrible choice,” Dr. Melo’s voice said. His eyes focused on the book in Simon’s hand. “Merran was an excellent comic. One of the better ones. “

  Simon looked at his teacher and noticed a large stack of books resting on his table. He gestured for Simon to come sit with him. Simon walked over with his book and examined a few titles from the large stack. He sat as he read through them.

  “Volume ≠ Emotion”

  Why Screaming Isn’t Singing and Other Vital Lessons.

  By Cordelia Dunesinger.

  “Notes, Tones, and the Sound of Self-Doubt”

  Understanding Pitch and Why You’re Missing It.

  By Darcian Songsage, Theoretical Harmonist.

  “The Pause is the Punchline”

  Timing in Comedy, Storytelling, and When to Shut Up

  By Merran Farstride.

  The last title caught his gaze. He scoffed after reading it.

  “How Not to Offend a God”

  A Primer on Divine Etiquette and Performance Boundaries.

  By Rhalis Emberline, Bard of the Crimson Court.

  “A primer on divine etiquette? Sounds like a deeply musical topic.” Simon said, giving Dr. Melo a flat look.

  “I will not apologize for picking the best material for you. You already have one god who has cursed you; Do you want to add to that number by singing?”

  He may have a point there.

  The god continued, “Now I understand that some of this could be beyond you. But I trust you will apply yourself as well as you are able. This library will be your home for the foreseeable future. If you have questions or cannot grasp concepts, come find me. I will know if you leave the building and will assume that means you have need of me,” Dr. Melo rose from his chair and gestured at the books. “Make your best effort.”

  “What about where I was sleeping?” Simon asked.

  He had taken up residence in a small building connected to the Hall of Flowing Time. The small buildings he had seen earlier had apparently been residences for students.

  “On that wall, the bookshelf will move if you ask or think about it,” Dr. Melo gestured to the right side of the building from the front door. “I have already swapped the interiors, so there will be no change. “

  Simon grumbled internally. He had said it was the interior of the building that he liked. That wasn’t true; He just wanted to be next to the place with Cosmic Dance Dance Revolution. While his sense of rhythm and dance was awful, he still enjoyed it. It was regrettable that his flailing around in that place had caused the god to decide that dancing and rhythm weren’t his thing.

  Simon sighed. He wanted to get out of this place. If studying and reading books were the way, that was just a fact of life.

  But he was going to sneak off to Cosmic DDR at some point.

  Make no mistake.

  Over the next few months, Simon did not touch an instrument, sing a song, or do any form of performance. Everything was books, theory, and concepts. He was feeling proud of his progress. Even the grumpy god seemed to gain hope again.

  While his way of explaining the things he learned left much to be desired, Dr. Melo was increasingly excited. Simon couldn’t explain, but he could answer questions if given in the right format. Dr. Melo realized he could answer multiple-choice-style questions easily enough. This just felt like college all over again.

  After the first week, the god relented and let him mess around with the Hall of Flowing Time during breaks. Simon got the impression that the god realized he was genuinely trying his best. Dr. Melo himself spoke of the importance of downtime to recharge your artistic mind.

  Finally, after six months of Simon being in the realm. The god decided it was time to perform again. Simon even caught the god’s smile a little when he told him it was time to show what he had learned.

  After the first performance, that smile turned into a hopeless expression.

  “HOW?! You KNOW THIS. YOU CAN ANSWER ALMOST ANY QUESTION ON BASIC THEORY?” Dr. Melo shouted in disbelief. “Not only that, YOU ARE SOMEHOW WORSE?!”

  Simon was sitting on the stage of Eternal Auditions, looking flummoxed. He had come into this with high hopes. He watched the god pace back and forth through the theater, flailing his arms. Dr. Melo walked through the shadows as if they were nonexistent.

  I guess technically they are. Simon smirked at his thought.

  The god froze and stared at Simon’s expression, mouth working up and down, but no sounds emerged. His face was going through multiple emotions in seconds. Confusion, anger, bewilderment, and hopelessness.

  He closed his eyes and mouth and then inhaled to calm himself. After a deep exhale, he spoke again.

  “Mortal. You are taking this seriously, correct?!” His voice was icy.

  Simon gulped as the chilly feeling washed over him. Dr. Melo was pissed.

  “I am. I want nothing more than to leave this place.”

  “THEN HOW ARE YOU NOT IMPROVING?!!” the god shouted, losing his composure again.

  “I don’t know! Trust me, I just don’t! “It’s just my first performance; Maybe my studying improved something else?” Simon said, pleading with the god. This entire thing was also deeply unsettling to Simon.

  He hadn’t slacked off; he did his best, but it wasn’t good enough.

  After a beat, the god calmed again.

  “Yes… I suppose,” he sighed. “I know you are trying. You have studied intensely. Let’s go try and see if anything has improved.”

  After several hours, it was clear. Simon had somehow taken the knowledge he had learned and used it to butcher the bardic arts in increasingly complex ways.

  Both he and the god were mechanically going from one building to another, testing Simon.

  Close to the end of the tests, Simon would just look at Dr. Melo, and he would just shake his head.

  But then it happened.

  They went to the Hall of Flowing Time.

  Books on dance and rhythm were something Simon enjoyed, so he consumed the books Dr. Melo had given him with gusto. During his free time, he had found more books on the subject and read those as well.

  He tried to do all the steps in the suggested reading and failed.

  But then he asked if he could try one more. Dr. Melo just shrugged sullenly.

  It worked.

  Simon felt himself enter a flow state as he finished the first form from the book. He looked at the god after finishing waiting for the inevitable shake of his head. Instead of finding the dead eyes of a soul that has given up, he saw a fire burning in Dr. Melo’s eye.

  “That form, that style. It wasn’t on my list.” The god muttered and then snapped his fingers. They were instantly in the Harmonic library.

  “Simon, what was the book title?” The god asked, waving his hands wildly. Books from the last six months were arranging themselves in the air like soldiers in formation.

  Simon was stunned. This was the first time the god, going by Dr. Melo, had used his name.

  “Hello? Are you awake, mortal?!” the god said, stalking up to Simon and waving his hand in his face.

  “What. Book. Was that from?”

  “Uh… It was … uh… something about steps?” Simon said.

  The god whirled around and waved. Every book with steps in its name came forward, then the god quickly eliminated the ones he had given Simon.

  One remained.

  “Steps of the Shifting Echo”

  A Story of Flow, Balance, and the Art of Moving Between Moments

  By Kaelen Stridebreaker, Bard of the Steel Steps

  The book opened in the air and quickly flipped through its pages as Dr Melo focused on it.

  “How simple.” Dr. Melo muttered, “I should have known…” then he turned to Simon with an enormous smile.

  “I think we found your performance,” the god said, nodding to himself while continuing to grin.

  He turned to look at the mortal in the room and added, “Simon.”

  —— ? ——