The Birth of a Pod Pilot part 3:

“Being at 83% does put you at increased risk of these things. You’re about twice as likely to suffer mind lock, about five times as likely to just reject the implants altogether. The former means permanent paralysis. The later means you’ve wasted all the training time. Are you willing to accept these risks?”“I am,” Cierra said. “I want to be a pod pilot. I have ever since I was a little girl.”The admissions officer looked down at her shirt, which was a vintage Pod Heroes tee. “You do know you don’t actually turn into a spaceship, right?”She smiled. “Of course.”He smiled back and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard.”***The next semester, Cierra began her training. There were hundreds of others looking forward to becoming pod pilots in her classes alone. Supposedly, there were thousands others just at the campus she was at. Most of them wouldn’t make it. There was no guarantee that Cierra would ever make it either.Most of the classes were surprisingly standard, she found. Of the six she was taking, four could have just been regular courses at the university. They focused on mathematics and science and philosophy and biology. The math and science classes were advanced, for sure, but nothing too far out of the ordinary.“We’re learning the same things in our High Energy Physics course,” Nora told her while watching her do homework one night. “But I can’t really understand it that much.”“It’s not so hard,” Cierra said. “Besides, if you don’t get it, you won’t be able to become a research scientist. If you want help, I’ll be glad to tutor you.”Nora smirked. “I just wish I could steal part of your brain for my tests.”Cierra smiled and put a hand on Nora’s shoulder, which Nora covered with her own. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” Cierra said. “And trust me, the other classes I have are worse. That philosophy class is out there.”“What’s it about?”“What do you think? The philosophy of being a pod pilot. Of dealing with what it means to turn yourself into a spaceship and of being cloned. I think it’s all a load of baloney, but there are some students who really get into it. I swear, some people in that class seem like they’re there only to talk about their creepy fantasies.”Nora chuckled. “What, are they getting way to into describing how the ship docks and undocks?”“What, did you come and see today’s lecture?” Cierra asked.Nora playfully swatted at her. “Oh, shut up.”“And the biology class… Well, let’s just say that it’s a little weird seeing the where they put the implants and what they pull out so that they can put them in there.”“You know, you really don’t need a spleen these days. Especially if you’re going to be in a pod all day long.”“Then there’s the breathing class.”Nora raised an eyebrow. “Breathing class?”“Yeah,” Cierra said. “They teach you how to breathe and calm yourself down and basically… well, concentrate and center yourself. Sort of like meditation, I guess. It’s supposed to help you free yourself of distractions.”“What sort of distractions. What, ‘Oh no! Look out, it’s a Raven coming off my starboard!’”Cierra grinned. “Yeah, pretty much. That and, ‘Oh no! I’m having a missile shot up my ass. Ooh, boy, that really smarts!’”Nora raised both eyebrows. “Well, it could be worse. They could try, you know, simulating that experience for you.”Cierra rolled her eyes. “I think you’re a big enough pain in the ass for me to handle, Nora. Now come on, I’ve gotta finish this homework.”***Cierra had no issues with her first semester of pod pilot training. She watched others fail out; not because the material was too difficult for them, but because it wasn’t the fast track to excitement that they’d hoped. More than a few simply stopped showing up to class once they realized it’d take years to be fully trained. Cierra even felt like that a few times, but Nora was always there to keep her in line.

The second semester started well also. She and Nora moved off campus to their own apartment, which had benefits like more living space and enough room for a really big bed. Her classes also focused more on pod training, with Cierra learning the basics of spaceship piloting and putting the mathematical and scientific knowledge she’d learned the previous semester to work on pod-related matters like calculating trajectories and navigational corrections.The biggest change was the beginning of actual piloting courses. She went to the simulator every day and flew practice missions. They were exciting and she enjoyed them, but they actually gave her problems. She failed missions more than once, while other people passed them easily.One night, she was sitting at home, staring at a computer monitor. “Ugh,” she groaned after her ship once again failed to make the cargo run in time. “This is impossible!”Nora peeked into the room. “What’s wrong?” she asked.“This homework. They sent us some training missions we have to complete,” Cierra peered at the screen. “I have to make a cargo run through a deadspace complex in the allotted time. But there’s an asteroid field right in the middle! When I try to go through it, I always crash and die. When I try to go around, I can’t finish in time!” She ran her hands through her hair. “It’s driving me crazy!”Nora put her hands on Cierra’s shoulders. “Hey, don’t get so frustrated. You’ll get it, trust me.”“That’s the problem! I’m not getting it,” she sighed. “I don’t get any worse, but I don’t get any better either. These are supposed to be simple missions too. But I’m barely getting by. It’s always like I’m moving too fast for my ship to respond. I try to slow down, but it just feels… sluggish then, and I still mess up.”“Hey, as long as you get by, right? As long as you pass, you can move on.”Cierra rested her head against the desk. “Maybe. But if it gets harder and I don’t improve, I won’t pass. And my instructors are worthless. They don’t care about helping me out. They want people to fail, so that there’ll be less of us next semester!”“You’re too tense,” Nora said, squeezing Cierra’s shoulders gently. “You’re just getting frustrated because it’s not coming easy to you. The math and science was simple, because that was all simple brain power. But now you have to train your reflexes and hand-eye coordination, so it’s not so easy.”“You’re right,” Cierra said into the desk. “Maybe I should give up. I just don’t have those skills. I’ll never be a pod pilot!”“Don’t say that!” Nora gasped. “You will too. Believe me. You’re amazing, Cierra. You can do it. If you’re behind the curve a little, so what? The instructors don’t care about that, either. You’ll catch up eventually.”“I guess…”“Come on, you just need some rest. It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.”“Alright.”***Nora was right, of course. Eventually, Cierra did catch up. She never got better than adequate, but that was good enough for the instructors, especially coupled with the high grades she got in the other classes. They were especially impressed by her perfect grade in the Meditative Concentration class (although that was due more to attendance. Anyone who showed up more than half the time passed the class).Her third semester started with more difficulty. They began true simulations, designed to really separate those who belonged from those who didn’t. They simulated pod implants using sophisticated electrodes and a few minor, temporary implants. The first time they hooked her up, Cierra threw up. She was nauseous for the rest of the day, even when she went home. Nora spent most of the night holding her hair back and she was doubled over the toilet.“This brings back memories,” Nora had joked. “Shut up,” Cierra choked out between heaves. “You’re making me laugh and that makes it - hurp!”