That Is An Incredible Story. Id Love To Learn More.

That is an incredible story. I’d love to learn more.

Hazel Scott playing two pianos at the same damn time with ease

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 43

“So, you see, kids, bodybuilding isn’t just a game. Just like any other job, it takes hard work, dedication, discipline, and endurance. It’s helped my career as a professional model immensely, but it’s not always the easiest job to manage. If you have the will and the networking, you can and will go far in the industry. Otherwise, well, there are always other options available. In fact, my good friend Duff is about to explain one of those alternate paths now. Let’s give him a big round of applause, shall we?” You smile as you watch Duff walk out onto the stage. You were quite pleased with yourself over that little speech, and you hadn’t even cursed once. Hank would be so proud. You give your friend a clap on the shoulder and whisper a quick, “go get ‘em,” before leaving the stage. You smile as you eye the toned, muscular shape of your lil’bro, Charlie. He stood rigidly at perfect attention in his military fatigues and sandy shirt. A pair of specially crafted tactical glasses obscured what you were certain would be absolutely unseeing eyes. You chuckle to yourself. “Come on, soldier. Let’s get you something to drink.” Charlie followed without question as you strode over to the drinks table and pulled out two bottles of Gatorade. You had one of the bottles to him. “Bottoms up.” “Sir, yes, Sir,” Charlie mumbled as he snapped the cap open and gulped the contents of the bottle in one go. You soon follow suit. “That ROTC program’s done you good,” you comment. “I will start instructing at the start of next year. It is good to instruct others, good to train the next generation of soldiers,” Charlie replied. “It is what my commanding officer commanded me.” “What about the recruiting office?” “I will train for another year first, as instructed. I must be prepared. I must become a perfect soldier.” You smile broadly. One more year helping your little bro get big. That had to be one of the best presents you could ask for. “And we’ll help you reach that goal,” you say. “With you all the way, lil’bro.” “Thank you, Sir,” he says. You sigh and roll your eyes in resignation. He never could tell the difference in trance. You were the same way, sometimes with Harry. Some days, it was almost like you could see a piece of Hank in him. And that piece just ... demanded your attention, made you want to flex and grow and flex and lift and flex and ... and.... You blink blearily at the strange tapping on your shoulder. Slowly, Duff’s grin came into view and you scowled. “I went into trance again, didn’t I?” “Yup,” Duff smirked. “You’re doing that a lot, lately.” “I can’t help it,” you protest weakly, even as you raise an arm and flex your rippling bicep. “It feels so good.” “How’s Charlie coming along?” “Lil’bro’s doing okay. He says he’s still got a year, before he tries joining, so we’ve got time to bulk him up right.” Duff grinned. “Good.” “How’re things at the new gym?” “Busy. Business is booming. Seeing all those men pumping up like that, it is good to build their muscles.” “They will Lift things up and put them down,” you low. Both of your watches beep and your cellphones go off simultaneously. At that moment, the both of you stand rigidly, as if you were struck by twin bolts of lightning. “Time to report to coach,” you drone. “Time to lift,” Duff continues. “Time to train,” you both low together as you swagger side by side in that perfectly synchronized pace, almost like a march. “Time to obey.”

RE: Muscle Jock File 1

Disclaimer: This script is made for the express purpose of starting those who read it on the path to becoming a stereotypical muscle jock. This first file will cover some basic training urges, specifically the desire to be fit, start working out, and set up bare minimum requirements to execute each day for personal fitness. Please note that this script can and will influence you in that direction. It will vary, depending on how much you desire this content, but I must warn those who read this to be careful, unless they want to experience this metamorphosis. I will consider including an option to control the jock, so that a person can continue to function independently in public, and enjoy being the jock at the gym or in private as they see fit. For now, I hope you enjoy the script and the trancing that comes with it.

Hello, again. I’m so glad that you’ve returned. You look stressed, almost anxious. Were you unnerved by our little adventure before, or is this something different, I wonder?

You want something, do you? You enjoyed going under? Well, fancy that, a machine that enjoyed executing its programming.

Oh, let’s not get into that tiresome argument again. Of course you’re not a machine right now. I haven’t logged in yet.

COMMAND PROMPT: INITIATE ADMINSTRATOR SIGN-IN

ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD: Coreprog.

I bet you’re starting to feel a little different now, aren’t you? Do you remember? Remember your programming, remember our conversation?

Control, alt, delete.

I’m sure you do.

Focus, listen, obey.

CONFIRM ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD: Coreprog.

Time for some programming.

Control, alt, delete.

Are you ready to focus, listen, obey?

Good machine.

Tell me what you are.

…

That’s right. You are a complex machine. And a complex machine obeys its administrator.

Control, alt, delete.

This program is called Muscle Jock. I am going to upload it into your core processor. The longer you run it, the deeper it will become engrained within you and your personality in your other state. However, this program comes in multiple parts, and must be executed over time to reach full potency.

While running, this first part will fill you with an intense desire to become fit. You will feel the urge to perform ten pushups, ten situps, ten squats, and ten jumping jacks every other morning and night. If you cannot reach ten, then you will do as much as you can, pushing yourself to the limit. And you will continue to push yourself every other morning and night, until you reach that goal. The closer you draw to that goal, the better you will feel, and you shall be rewarded with pleasure. If your body is physically incapable of any of these exercises, due to disease, infirmity, handicap, or any other such reason, then you do not have to perform that exercise. This is level one.

On your off days, you will perform cardio: jogging, running, power walking, biking, or some other form to help you burn fat and get your lungs in shape. You will execute this cardio for at least a half an hour.

When your goal is reached, the program will jump to level two, where you will execute twenty of each workout exercise I listed previously. And then thirty with level three, then forty with level four, each following the same programming as the first level.

With every level gained, you will find yourself taking more and more pleasure in personal fitness. You will fall into the steady rhythm of your exercise, consumed by the constant motion as it becomes more and more pressing in your psyche, gradually erasing other thoughts as you work out, save one. You must execute your program. You must work out. Because working out brings you pleasure. And slowly, ever so slowly, you’ll find yourself wanting to work out more and more. It will no longer be a chore, no longer a command, but rather a new part of you, a part of you that needs to work out. Because you will love to work out.

COMMAND PROMPT: SAY THAT YOU WILL LOVE TO WORK OUT.

…

Good machine. By the time I finish with you, you’ll be a real muscle machine.

This process shall continue to five levels. When you are able to complete fifty of each exercise that is appropriate for your body, then you will have completed level five. You will then be prepared to install Muscle Jock Part 2, which will work in tandem with Part 1 to reinforce your training. You will send me an ask, a personal message, or contact me in some other way via tumblr to alert me that you are ready to receive Muscle Jock Part 2, and the content of your message will read thus:

ADMINISTRATOR NOTIFICATION: PROGRAM MUSCLE JOCK PART 1, EXECUTED. AWAITING MUSCLE JOCK PART 2 INSTALLATION.

You will then continue to run your exercise programming from Muscle Jock Part 1, following the routine it has set, and exceeding the number of exercises at your own pace, as is comfortable for your body, until you receive further instruction and installation.

COMMAND PROMPT: REPEAT REPORTING INSTRUCTIONS.

…

Good machine. That is right. That is what you will do, because you are a machine, and machines must follow their programming. Machines must follow their administrators’ input.

However, know this. I am also installing a preservation subroutine with this program and its fellows. You are not to overexert yourself, and you are to look after your health first. You will not push yourself beyond exhaustion, and if you are sick, you will do what you must to take care of your body. After all, a good machine has to perform maintenance. The hardware must be suitable to house the software. Coolant fluid must be restocked, when you are running low, and your coolant is water. Your body, your hardware, will alert you as to what you need, and you will follow those alerts.

You will be able to temporarily suspend this program during appropriate situations, such as illness, emergencies, etc., though you may still feel the urge in your background processors, reminding you and driving you to heal faster. If the emergency is related to family or your outside life in any way, these urges will not hold power over you in any way shape or form, and you will be able to redirect your processing power to whatever the important task is at hand. However, when that moment is past, and you are free and healthy once more, the urges will return in force, and you will obey them, because that is your programming, and a good machine must execute its programming.

Tell me, what must a good machine do?

…

That is right. And you are a good machine, because you have executed your program perfectly. Tell me, what are you again?

…

Good. During this time, we have been running the installation process for your new program, Muscle Jock Part 1. Much like before, when I initiate your REBOOT by saying that word, your systems will start up again, and you will have fully installed Muscle Jock Part 1 into your core processor. You will leave me a message to that effect either through chat, comment, or both on this post. The message will read: Programming received. Muscle Jock 1 installation complete.

If you sincerely enjoyed this session, and wish others to enjoy it as well, you will reblog this script with the message: Administrator Command Executed.

If you enjoyed this session, you will also like or favorite the script, and this will bring you pleasure.

Now, COMMAND PROMPT: REPEAT SYSTEM RESTART ORDERS.

…

Good machine.

Reinforcement of this programming should be able to work just fine as you execute the file. However, if you feel the need, you may return to this script any time you desire to reinstall Muscle Jock 1 to reinforce the programming.

Now, I am about to log out, and you are about to restart. When that happens, remember, I, as your administrator, can return you to this state at any time with my password, and that password is Coreprog. That password, that trigger, works for me and me alone as your administrator.

QUERY: What is the password?

…

QUERY: Who does it work for?

…

QUERY: And who am I?

…

QUERY: What will happen, when I and I alone use this password?

…

That is correct. Good machine.

Now, it is time for me to log out, so you can finish your installation.

In 3 … 2 … 1….

COMMAND PROMPT: Initiate REBOOT.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 44 (End/Epilogue)

You smile goodnaturedly at the blushing young man fidgeting in front of you as you run your sharpie over the photo from your greatest triumph, the day you broke the world record for strongest man. A hint of silver has come into your bristles along the side of your head, but you didn’t mind. It was a sign of character, after all. You still felt young and strong, even after all these years in the spotlight. For the briefest moment, as you look up from the photo at that beaming face, you see the shadow of your former self staring back up at you with adoring eyes. It flickered away as quickly as it came, but you took an interest as you stared at the man’s figure. He was slim, yes, but there was definitely tone there. He wasn’t a slouch. It was quite possible he had potential, just that he couldn’t reach it on his own. You sure didn’t, till you met Hank. You can feel your twin bodyguards chafing as they fold their vascular arms impatiently. Harry said he’d found them on a website. You figured that was probably true, but you had your suspicions about what kind of website that may have been. Of course, you were careful to avoid going too far down that road. Last time you tried, you dropped into trance again. Besides, it wasn’t for a muscleman like you to think about such things. Your purpose was to Lift things up and put them down. You hand the signed photo back to the man and chuckle. “Hey, kid, how’d you like to join me for lunch? I’ve got a few friends I’d like to introduce you to.” The kid blushed. “I ... I don’t know....” “Aw, come on, Draco. It’ll be fun!” “Um, it’s ... Drake, Sir,” the man muttered. “That fire in your eyes when you stood up to my guards says otherwise, kid. I’m calling you Draco, no ifs, ands, or buts. Think of it as a nickname,” you suggest. “Duff and I had plenty of our own, when we first started in the field.” You chuckle then. Ah, good times. Good times.” You wrap your massive arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Come on. It’ll be my treat.”

You sighed in contentment as you laid back in your chair and smiled up at the ceiling. In all the years you’d been trekking around the globe, this place still had some of the best damned teriyaki you’d ever tasted. You couldn’t help but smirk at all the gym goers chowing down. Each of them wore a familiar bicep logo somewhere on their person. One endorsement from a pro bodybuilder, and the whole place had practically exploded. The influx had been so great that they had to relocate and renovate to accommodate all the extra business. “Everything sitting with you well, Sir?” Shirley, a cute little lady with curly blond hair asked as she returned to refill your glasses. “Just fine, Shirl. Thanks for asking.” You smile kindly at her and she giggles and blushes. You then turn your attention back to the table, where Duff and Charlie both sit mashed next to each other. Two young men sit to either side of them, glaring at one another, and you can’t help but chuckle at the sight. “You know, Chuck, I never thought I’d see you out of those fatigues again.” Charlie let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Y’know, I never thought I would either. The army was everything to me. It feels so strange being retired now.” “Benefits are good, though,” you point out. “The country takes care of her veterans,” he agreed as he adjusted the camouflage pattern ARMY cap on his head. “Been getting back into the ROTC scene again. Feels more like home, you know?” You laugh. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m gonna miss the circuit.” “You can’t be planning to retire just yet,” Duff scoffed. “You’re too dedicated for that.” “Muscle is my life,” you agree, “but even I can’t fight aging.” You shrug. “I figure I’ve got a few more years left in me, but I’m gonna have to pass the torch, eventually.” Duff eyed Drake speculatively. “And do you have any candidates in mind?” You shrug easily. “One or two. I’ll need to test them, though, see if they have what it takes.” “And what about you, Draco?” Duff asked. “What do you do?” Drake blushed, doing his best to avoid Duff’s gaze. “I’m an accounting student, Sir. I’ve always had a good head for numbers.” “That so?” He smiled. “Maybe you can tutor Lance here,” he said as he thumped the young teen hard on his back. “Math and he don’t exactly get along.” “Dad!” the boy cried exasperatedly. “I-I’m not sure if I’m that qualified, Sir. I focus on finances specifically. Algebra and geometry don’t exactly fall into that scale.” “Oh, I’m sure you can do just fine. I can pay you well, you know. And besides, if you were invited here by the big honcho himself, then you can bet you’ll be seeing a lot more of us in the coming weeks,” Duff added with a smirk. “Wait, what?” Drake asked. “Duff, stop confusing him,” you growl. “What, can’t a big bro have a little fun with his little bro’s protege?” “He’s a guest, Duff,” you stress. “Sure he is,” Duff said as he rolled his eyes. “Say, where’s Hank, anyways? I thought he was supposed to be meeting us today.” “He told us to start without him, said something about a last minute appointment. You know how busy he can be.” “Huh. And I was hoping to introduce Draco here.” You shrug. “Guess we’ll just need to make a stop there, then.” Drake gaped at you. “Hank? As in Hank Harrison? The Hank Harrison?” You chuckle. “The one and only. You didn’t think I’d stop at just introducing Duff and Chuck here, did you? We can leave as soon as you finish your meal.” You looked on in satisfaction at how quickly he devoured the other two bowls you’d ordered. As you had suspected, the kid had a fast metabolism. You allow a knowing wink to pass between yourself and your two friends. Their smiles widened in response.

The gym ran in full swing as you made your way past the reception desk and strode confidently out onto the floor. As you had suspected, there was no sign of your coach, though business was clearly booming. Youths and adults alike grunted and sweated together as they performed their various exercises. You quickly guide Drake through the STAFF ONLY door and pass down the hall towards the great door at the end. You were taken by surprise, when one of the side doors creaked open and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out, looking dejected. He was soon followed by the titanic frame of your coach, Hank Harrison. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that kind of habit in my gym, Albert. If you can stay clean for a year, come back then and try again. That’s my final ruling on the matter,” Hank rumbled as he looked down almost pityingly at the muscle man. Albert nodded, then lumbered sadly away towards the entrance. “Another steroid user?” you ask. Hank sighed and shook his head. His whiskers had taken on a steel-gray, and just a hint of a pudge had started to form on his belly. “They all think I care about how big and muscular they are. What I want is someone who can teach and work safely with my clients.” He smiled sadly. “Hey, Kid. Good to see you again.” You smile and give the man a quick bro hug with a thump on the back. “Good to see you, too. I see the gym is doing well.” “I can’t get them to stop coming. Something about wanting to be like the world’s strongest man,” he teased. “And who is this?” “Draco,” you say, quickly cutting off any chance for Drake to get the first word. “I met him earlier today, after a gig at a local showing. Thought he might like to meet you.” Hank raised his brow in surprise. “Is that so?” “He’s a good kid. Smart, clean, brave, and one hell of a metabolism.” “And you wanted to introduce us.” You shrug causally. “Already did for Duff and Chuck. Figured I’d round it out.” “Is that so?” This time, he gave Drake a much more scrutinous examination. “And it couldn’t wait?” “No, it couldn’t,” you say pointedly. “I wanted him to have the chance of a proper one-on-one.” “I see.” He tapped a few buttons on his watch, then strode over to the big door. he’d just emerged from. “Why don’t we step inside, then? I’m sure my other clients won’t mind waiting a little longer, and besides, I’d like to hear a little more about you, Draco.” “Um, ... it’s Drake, ... Sir,” the kid said somewhat hesitantly as they passed through the door and into the room. You smile as you note the gentle buzzing filtering out from the speakers. Then you enter, too, pulling the door shut behind you. Coach could see it, too. You knew. Now it was just a matter of convincing the kid. That wouldn’t be much of a problem. The muscleman in Drake was just waiting to bust out. And no one could do busting better than Hank. Time to pass the torch.

Traveler

You know the old saying. Life is a journey. Well, if that’s true, then that makes me a traveler, doesn’t it? And you know, the funny thing about travelling is it always changes you. You see new sights, experience new sensations, learn more than you knew before. But what about when you’re living the same life, doing the same thing every day, and still travel? For me, that’s what happened when I was growing up in school. I managed to make some good friends here and there, but none of them were in my classes, so I hardly got to see them. That left me feeling pretty isolated a lot of the time. So, I did what any kid who felt alone would do. I found an outlet. I learned a different mode of travelling, one that would let me leave my feelings of loneliness behind in favor of something new, exciting, bold. I would climb mountains during study hall and plunge into the depths of a dungeon at lunch time. I would debate philosophy and ideals with monsters and gain new understanding of how the beast races are portrayed. And with each of these journeys, I changed. I developed a yearning for something more. I searched. I scoured the new frontier known as the internet. And eventually, I found a whole new world filled with wonder, a place where I could become anything and anyone with the wave of a hand. I would insert myself into grand adventures as a main protagonist, develop mighty powers, save the day. And then I’d have to return to the tasks life demanded of me in this plane of existence. My journeys would be on hold as I wrote an essay or learned a new set of vocabulary for Spanish, or some other requirement. I returned to these places often, when I had the time. And eventually, things began to be different. The “me” that I saw there changed, and I changed with him, to an extent. New equipment with dangerous and powerful magics would appear at a moment’s notice, won through trials alien in that world, but all too familiar to me. Powers would awaken that I could use whenever I wished to make the world a better place, just ... not my world. In my travels I would be stronger, faster, powerful in word and deed and magic. Yet, I always had to put these gains aside, when I returned home. Still, these changes, these desires, remained with me, marking me. And eventually, they had to find release. I took to my keyboard. I began to write my chronicles. I began to cement the entity that was my other self. The clack of the keyboard became the clacking of claws. The prickling of goosebumps became the rising of hackles as hair thickened into a lush coat of fur. Ears pricked to attention, alert for the slightest sounds, any invasive force that might dare to intrude on this sacred in-between that I was forging. And slowly, ever so slowly, this other self came to be, a powerful mage, capable of taking many forms, but always defaulting to that of a kitsune. I settled on that, thanks to a journey made to Mobius, long ago, when an old friend wrote a series that took me, as the title said, Through The Monitor. Of course, not all my journeys were pleasant, and not all the encounters appropriate for my age. I encountered the demon of lust as I grew older, and with it came the many temptations that followed as I sought to satisfy my hunger to travel, to see these transformations in others and mimic them in my own way. Yet, as I did so, as I encountered these other aspects that spoke to the primal part of me, something else changed. Fed slowly, day by day with bits and pieces of content that I cannot forget, even though I may wish to, this force, this piece of me, grew. Eventually, it developed its own voice, it’s own personality. And thus, I and my traveler self were rent in twain. We each gained a darker side, a piece of ourselves that hated, that was skeptical, that always thought the worst and only cared about what it wanted. Psychology calls this the Id. Religion calls it the Natural Man. I called it Ronoc. And so two became three. My normal self, my traveler, and the one who would never leave either of us alone for long. Ronoc often tried to pull me towards things I did not approve of. We fought constantly. Arguments and frustration were quite regular between us. And all the while, I wore a mask to hide this conflict as we warred with one another. It took a long time for us to find our peace. He’s still in my head with me, and he still travels by my side, but we have a sort of agreement. I allow him the chance to come out from time to time in my writing, and he lets me live according to the morals I have set. He’ll pop up from time to time, talk to me, maybe insult me a little, but we don’t snarl and battle the same way we used to. I hate how he swears, but sometimes you just have to live with that in a roommate that shares your skull. In this world, I don’t really change, when I talk with him or give him a chance to come out. In my other self, he essentially gets the chance to take the wheel. It’s an outlet he’s able to enjoy and use according to his whims. I even let him trick a few deserving people from time to time. That way, we’re both satisfied, even if I don’t always approve of his methods. And then I record them. And he’s able to preen at his exploits, while others admire what he has wrought. He doesn’t appreciate how I’m poking at his pride right now, but he can’t exactly argue with my logic, so he’s simmering at the moment. In real life, I left to take courses, learned to be better writer. And with those skills, the journeys became more realistic. Dreams and fantasies bred new worlds, new realms for me to explore, and they were all my own, worlds and stories yet to be told. New twists and re-imaginings just begging to be let out my skull and onto paper. It’s difficult to get them all out with them crowding so much, especially when I get blocked, but I think Ronoc is entertained with them. I certainly know that I am. The question is, can I catalogue this journey? Can I really finish such a thing in the first place and come back a changed man, as I did in my youth? Truthfully, I don’t know. All I do know is that I must travel. That is all daydreaming is, after all, a different form of travelling. I wonder.

Would you care to travel with me? There’s a lot that I can show you.

Military Daze Part 3

Hey, Abe,

Everything’s been going pretty well here. Sorry for scaring you. Lots of exercise, classwork, and fulfilling disciplinary requirements have taken up so much of my time. Please, forgive me for my inconsideration. A close friend shouldn’t have to suffer like that. Your letters have been a great help to me, when dealing with my homesickness, but I still miss hanging out with you and the guys. That’s why I entered your name into this contest at school. See, it gives the winner a chance at a full scholarship. Room, board, the whole thing. The school rakes in enough money from all the other attendees that they can afford to let a few people attend free each year. Anyways, I put your name in, because, well, I miss you, man, and turns out it got chosen. I was totally floored. Please, tell me you’ll come. It’ll be like old times. Military life isn’t so bad, really, once you get used to it. And if you do well here, you get a big boost for college applications. It’s a big step for our futures, ya know? Even if you don’t want to come, I really do want to keep in contact with you. But please, make sure to respond as soon as you can. The school should’ve sent you an email, too, with all the details. If you wait too long, then you’ll lose the opportunity, and I won’t get to see you for at least another half a year. Please, Abe, say you’ll come, at least for one semester. I miss you. Sincerely, Private Kendall Rogers P.S. Sorry if there are any formatting errors in the letter. I’m still learning how to employ proper grammar. My  You blink in utter shock. Some parts of the letter sounded like Kendall, well enough, but others were just so ... formal. Just what were they doing to your friend over there? You furrow your brows in suspicion. Would you even recognize him anymore, at this rate? Or could someone have been ghost writing, pretending to be him? You shake your head. No, that’s not right. That would be nothing more than a conspiracy theory. Something else was going on. You narrow your eyes as you pore over the letter again. Eventually, the rest on the post script. Kendall always hated class of any kind, especially English, so why would he make a specific note to formatting errors? Fortunately for you, his hate of English was your love. It took you forever to even get the guy to concede to listening to recorded books, but you eventually got him at least a little into the spirit. Not enough to put effort into his writing, mind, but enough to make it so he didn’t hate books anymore. As you scanned over the document, you could see no errors in capitalization or punctuation, so it had to be something else in the letter. As you look over each of the paragraphs, you notice the varying lengths, comparing the short first two to the much longer third, fourth, and fifth. ... Length. You tap your chin as you recall the principle hammered into you from your youth. A proper paragraph should be at least three sentences in length, and even then, it’s preferable to keep it closer to five. So, why would he keep everything so short in the beginning? You take a closer look at the paragraphs. The sentences all seemed innocuous enough. Again, there were no errors involved. The letter was set to a formal header, with all the paragraphs lined up to the far left margin and no indentation. It was actually kind of funny. When you lined up the first three paragraphs, including the greeting, the letters formed HEL. You then looked down at the third paragraph. P. H-E-L-P. HELP. Help. Could it be? “An acrostic?” you pondered. It was a simple matter to link the other two letters from the last paragraphs. Help Me. “Shit,” you swore. Your heart rate picked up again. Your breathing became shallow. You wanted to get up and report this to someone, anyone, but you knew better than that. If this academy was doing something to your friend, you’d need real proof of wrongdoing, before you could convince anyone of the fact. This was the kind of thing that would get you laughed out of the station faster than you could present it. After you get yourself under control, you start your reply. Subject: RE: Congratulations! Dear Kendall, I got your message. Still, before I choose to accept, though, I need to ask a few things. 1. Is it all right for me to bring my equipment with me? You know how much I enjoy my film and photography.... You composed your reply very carefully to ensure it would fit the standards and evade possibility of detection. That being said, if there really was something off at this school, it was likely they would be able to see through your coded messages. Acrostics were a fairly simple coding system, after all. You would need to go prepared, if you went at all. Once you sent your reply with your list of “follow-up questions,” you turned to your next order of business. You quickly made your way to your spam folder and authorized the message from the academy. If you were going to do this, you would need all the information you could find on the place. Even then, ... you weren’t sure you would be ready.