CHAPTER 76: LEARNING CURVES

Marcus woke to the familiar grayness of his real world life. After learning about world seeds and taking responsibility for an otherworldly refugee, returning to Tyler's apartment felt even more surreal than usual.

He arrived at Pressley Guns to find the place busier than it had been all week. Several workers had returned from the gun fair in Texas, and the shop hummed with activity.

"Marcus!" John Pressley called out. "Good timing. Alex is going to give you some range time today. Get you familiar with the products."

Alex limped over, carrying a training rifle and a box of ammunition. "Come on, chief. Time to see what you're made of."

The indoor range occupied the back half of the building. Sound dampening foam covered the walls, and fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows over the shooting lanes. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air from earlier sessions.

"This is a basic .22 rifle," Alex said, setting the weapon on the bench. "Good for learning fundamentals. Low recoil, easy to handle."

Marcus nodded, trying to look like he hadn't spent months in Valdris working with crude firearms and black powder weapons. The modern rifle felt alien in his hands compared to the shotgun he and Sara had built.

"Safety first," Alex continued. "Always treat the weapon as loaded. Never point it at anything you don't intend to destroy. Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot."

They spent the first twenty minutes on basic handling. Marcus fumbled through loading procedures, his hands remembering the weight of different weapons from another world. When Alex had him practice reloading, Marcus moved too quickly and sliced his hand on the rifle's action.

Blood welled up from a cut across his palm. "Damn it."

"Don't be a hero," a voice said behind them. Irene appeared with paper towels and a first aid kit. "Happens to everyone."

She handed him wipes and helped clean the cut. Her movements were efficient, practiced. "You'll need to fill out an incident report. I'll help you word it so it doesn't look worse than it is."

Marcus studied her face while she bandaged his hand. Up close, he could see the signs of distress more clearly. Dark circles under her eyes, a distant gaze that seemed to focus on something far away. When her phone buzzed, she answered in hushed tones, fear flickering across her features.

"Thanks," Marcus said as she finished the bandage.

"Just be more careful. This place has enough problems without adding workplace injuries."

That evening, Marcus took bus to the private course for his first security certification class. The classroom was filled with young men and women, many of them ex military, all trying to get their licenses after their day jobs. The instructor, a gruff former police officer, ran through basic procedures and legal requirements.

During the break, several classmates invited Marcus to join them for drinks afterward. "Come on, man. We're hitting Murphy's. Good way to network."

Marcus declined politely. "Thanks, but I have studying to do."

One of the ex military guys, a woman named Janet, laughed. "Studying for what? This course is basically common sense."

"Other stuff," Marcus said vaguely.

I don't have time to make friends or party, he thought. While they were planning bar crawls, he had two worlds depending on him. Mushroom cultivation deadlines, sewing machine designs, and now an otherworldly refugee who needed training in basic human functionality.

The class resumed with practical exercises. They learned about incident reporting, emergency procedures, and basic conflict resolution. Marcus took notes dutifully, but his mind kept wandering to Valdris. Was Palwin adapting to life with his family? Had Lord Hammond's people started preparing the mushroom growing facility?

"Chen!" the instructor barked. "Pay attention. This could save your life someday."

"Sorry, sir."

After class, Marcus took the bus back to Tyler's apartment through empty streets. The city looked different at night, lonelier. Streetlights created pools of yellow light between stretches of darkness. He thought about Irene's distressed expression, the way she'd helped him without being asked.

Everyone seemed to be fighting their own battles. Marcus with his dual world existence, Irene with whatever demons were chasing her, Palwin with her confusion between group mind and individual consciousness. Even Tyler, streaming to audiences that might not really care about him.

In Valdris, he was trying to prevent famine and civil war. In the real world, he was trying to build skills that might save both worlds.

Marcus rubbed his bandaged hand and thought about the cut from the rifle. Maybe the injury was appropriate. Learning new things always involved some blood, some risk, some pain.

At least he was learning. And maybe, eventually, he'd be skilled enough to actually help the people counting on him in both worlds.

Time to sleep. Time to switch back to Valdris and see how Palwin was adjusting to life with his chaotic refugee family. Somehow, that seemed like it might be the biggest challenge yet.