Time Corps 4

I've never felt healthier. We started with a compulsory 15 minutes per day 4 days a week on the cross-trainer and a 4 mile hike once weekly. We've now advanced to 40 minutes 4 times a week plus 12 miles. They're not trying to make us miniature versions of themselves - we don't use weights - just build stamina, cardio-vascular fitness.
Combine that with plentiful and healthy food, I've put on 8 good pounds since arrival.
Feel different too, more can-do, more kick-butt, more generally capable in life.
One of the "miniature" MP's is our phys ed instructor. She abstains from what movie-goers would expect and instead is cheerful, encouraging.

Perhaps the gentle reader is familiar with Toastmasters, who develop public speaking skills. Similar program here, we do a weekly meeting. It's educational as well, finding out more about the others' historical epochs. We start in just our little group. Once we gain some expertise, we're joined on to another group, people of this time.
The biggest surprise of all is the first time they videotape me. I really had thought it was interesting, good stories from childhood days in Guyana. I'm first in shock, then tears, as I see, so wooden, so boring, so ah well dead.
Col wraps an arm round me, "you see Indira, now you know how it really is."
"I just had no idea it was that bad."
"Problem is not the topic, had good anecdotes. Presentation, since you don't feel emotion or rather very little, you just plain don't put any in. So here's what we do, enroll you in an acting class. I'm strictly of the fake-it-til-you-can-make-it school of thought."

I arrive for the class, an evening. The Sergeant in charge grins wickedly, "right, got just the role for you. See, it's set in a bureaucracy. The clerk in charge of supplies is one genuine first-class sadist. Won't give out a new pen til you bring back the old one, run outa ink. Only dish out one row of staples at a time. Make everyone sign the receipt book for every paper clip even. Won't allow access to the photocopier til the boss's initials authorize the job. So, think you could get into something like that?"
I stand straighter, "bring it on."
She grins, "warn you, they'll try everything. Try to be your friend. Threaten to complain to the boss of your Stalinesque manner. But stand firm, don't give one inch, be the grinch who stole Christmas. Sound like fun?"
"Oh ye-ah."
It is scary how quickly the role grows on me. By the second reading, I'm putting real venom, real scorn, real snarls into it. One woman pulls back her fist.
In a flash, Sgt grabs it, "chill you moron, it's just a play, she's just doing her job."
The woman blushes, "sor-ry."
Sgt, "that scene from the top. Indira, gimme more, more snarl, more arrogance. Faye, more bitchiness in the voice, but keep your dukes down."
End of the evening, Sgt asks me quietly, "so Indira, how you feel?"
"Great, better than I have in a donkey's age."
"Same time next week."

As I arrive back in the common room, Betty Lou says, "I just don't believe it, never seen you that cheerful. Either you got laid or killed someone. Which?"
I tell of the class.
She grins, "Col is very people smart."

The acting class isn't one big play we rehearse endlessly, but a series of short skits and one-act plays. Meant to give us maximum experience with shifting roles.
And so it is, next time I am a medic in an Airborne unit. As I kneel over my "casualty", pretending to apply a bandage, I assure her all is well, she'll live.
In a furious voice, Sgt shouts, "cut! Now you look here, you just killed my sister!"
"I did?"
Taps her shoulder flash, "know what that means?"
"Airborne."
"Right, now every person in Airborne is to viewed as a brother or sister," by now she's starting to cool a bit, "so, your first experience of things military?"
I nod.
"No friends or relatives back in your time?"
"No."
"Ever watch war movies or read war novels?"
"No."
"Ok, what precisely is the sum total of your war knowledge?"
"Term paper was assigned, we had to choose a one-day event from World War 2. I chose the epic low-altitude US bombing raid on the oil refineries at Ploesti, Romania."
By now she's chuckling, wraps an arm round me, "right, now here's what you did. See any serious wound like that, people are often in the territory where they choose to live or die. So, with your totally lacklustre assurance that she'll live, she naturally assumes the worst. Now try again, put energy into it."
After my next try, Sgt calls a short break, draws me aside. In a gentle tone, "I see how it works. Since you view life as little more than a tedious pain in the butt, you find it hard to actually encourage another to stay alive."
"Ah well ah"
"Don't deny it. True, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Kid, what on earth do you think actors and actresses do? You think the movie bank robber is a crook in real life? No, probably a sweet gentle guy who dotes on his kids off-screen. Now get in there and act. Pretend life is important, means anything, is worth the powder to blow it to Hades. Act like the most important thing in the whole world is keeping that friend alive. Do it!"
This focuses me, I'm not me anymore, just a fictional character. Next reading I put more energy into it.
Sgt smiles, "close, but no cigar. From the top. Now this time, act like it's life or death - your friend lying there is the most important thing in the whole world."
As we wind up for the evening, Sgt quietly asks, "how you feel Indira?"
"Utterly wiped, not used to that."
"Get used to it. Now next week, you walk through that door, you leave you behind. For the evening, you are someone else, the character."

As I return to the common room, Betty Lou asks, "rough evening?"
"Whole place is one gargantuan pain in the kiester. Rather be adrift on an ice floe near Greenland or dead."
She laughs easily, "we-ll now, there is some promise for you."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Try putting some of that bitten energy into the gym or the upcoming term paper."