“Welcome to the testing lab,” the slightly accented voice said from over the intercom. “I’m Henri and I will be your lab technician for today.”

It was the day after my classroom incident and my regular schedule had been cleared for me to spend some time in here. The testing lab was in a large bunker type building made of reinforced concrete and steel. The lab itself was about the size of a soccer field. There were places on the walls, floor, and ceiling where repairs had obviously been performed. Placed at regular intervals were concrete blocks, like tables, with various objects on them.

“You’ll be the only one in here during the tests so you don’t need to worry about injuring anyone,” Henri said again. “I’ll be monitoring you through the cameras. If I lose contact with you for whatever reason, the red lights will turn on and you are to stop whatever test you are currently performing and someone will enter the testing room to give you further instructions.”

Considering what I’d done to the class, I was relieved to know that no one would be around while I was testing things out.

“These first tests are not to test your overall strength but to get you used to what happens when you break things as well as to help you learn better control. Approach the table to your left and pick up any of the objects there.”

I did so, finding a selection of rocks, chunks of metal, and blocks of wood. I picked up a piece of wood, trying hard not to damage it just yet.

“You have a piece of soft wood in your hands,” Henri said. “Using either one or both hands, crush it slowly.”

That was easy enough. The wood was like butter in my hands, but instead of squishing out between my fingers it popped and splintered.

“You will find most solid objects you crush will behave like this,” Henri explained. “The harder the object, the more violently it will explode from being crushed. Try one of the steel blocks next.”

I put the remains of the wood down and picked up the steel cube. As soon as I began to apply pressure to it, shards began to explode off of it. I was expecting it this time so I didn’t freak out though I did flinch when a piece hit my cheek, bouncing off harmlessly.

“Slow, deliberate movements will be your best chance of avoiding catastrophe,” Henri went on. “We are going to practice picking up and putting down these objects. Nice and slow.”

It was about as interesting as it sounded and I quickly grew bored. Still, I knew it was important to practice this skill so I forced myself to be attentive to what I was doing. Slowly grab a piece on the table, close my fingers until I just barely begin to feel a slight pressure, then pick it up. Sometimes I’d pass it from one hand to the other before setting it back down. In some ways, the wood was more forgiving in that I could dent it slightly before it would break, but it quickly developed imprints of my hands from repeated handling.

The rocks were the worst because they broke apart at even the slightest touch. Some split apart while others exploded.

“Try a scooping motion to pick them up,” Henri suggested.

I felt like a toddler following his instructions, but to my relief and surprise it worked. Scooping them up allowed the rocks to shift and not get crushed. I had to hold them in my palm with my fingers spread open but it worked.

“Good job, now try tossing it from one hand to the other.”

We’d been going for only half an hour or so but I felt this was a bit early to be complicating things.

“Go on,” Henri prompted when I continued to hesitate. “You’re here to learn and part of that involves making mistakes. I entirely expect you to need some practice before you can do this without incident.”

He was right. The first attempt resulted in the rock being launched up into the ceiling.

“Force equals the mass times the acceleration,” Henri reminded me. “You do not need to put so much effort into tossing them. Just a gentle toss will do.”

The next time I selected a piece of wood, wondering if I was limited to the rocks or if I could use anything from the table. When Henri didn’t contradict my choice, I tossed it just higher than my head and caught it again with my other hand. The wood burst into splinters as I reflexively closed my hand around it.

I kept at it for several more minutes without success, no matter what I used. Eventually, everything on that table was useless debris and Henri instructed me to move on to the next table where I found several bicycles and some tools.

“You’re going to repair the flat tire,” Henri announced. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Nope,” I said, then chuckled to myself at the impending failure.

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Each step was straightforward enough, and no matter how badly I messed up or broke things, Henri just had me get another bike or replace the tool with another one until, surrounded by failed attempts, I had one fully functioning bike.

“Now ride it,” Henri instructed. “And be careful you don’t snap the pedals off.

Of course that was the first thing I did, followed immediately by the handlebars as I tumbled forwards. The bike ended up in a twisted heap and I just lay there, laughing quietly at my failures. Such simple tasks were almost impossible for me, not because I lacked coordination or skill but because I was too strong. It was certainly not a problem I ever thought I’d have.

“No worries,” Henri said after giving me a minute to compose myself. “Select any of the remaining bicycles and ride it, after you have repaired the flat tire, of course.”

I groaned at the idea of having to attempt that feat again but was pleasantly surprised when it only took me three tries to get it. Then came the riding. This time I moved even slower. The handlebars bent slightly under my grasp and I lightened my grip even more. I placed a foot on the first pedal and pushed off with my foot, standing up and swinging my leg over to the other side and resting it on the other pedal. The metal snapped at once and the pedal clattered to the floor. I let the bike coast a few feet before turning back around and coming to a stop by the table.

“That was very good for your second attempt,” Henri said with mild surprise in his voice. “Let’s see if third time’s the charm, eh?”

I set the broken bike to the side and grabbed one of the remaining, functioning bicycles. By now I felt pretty confident in my ability to repair the flat tire. The confidence, however, proved my undoing since I repeatedly broke tools and bike parts until I was out of usable components.

“Well, no matter,” Henri said. “We will move on.”

It was lunch by the time we were finished with all of Henri’s exercises.

“You did well for your first time in here,” he told me. “I will see you next time, perhaps.”

I left feeling somewhat better, though I had failed at the tasks more often than not.

“Misha!” Hector’s voice called out as I made my way over to Cane Hall.

He and the other strong supers were making their way over to lunch as well and were waving for me to join them.

“I hear you got your first time in the lab,” Hector said. “How was it?”

“Fine, I guess,” I replied, not sure what else to tell them. “Broke a bunch of stuff, fixed a few flat tires.”

“You actually fixed a tire?” one of the others, Cassie, asked. “I still keep snapping spokes.”

“Did you ride it?” Hector asked.

“For about half a second,” I laughed. “Then I folded it up in half.”

“Sounds about right,” Hector nodded. “I still can’t ride it for more than a few seconds before something breaks.”

“Let’s hurry up and eat so we can go do something before our next classes,” Cassie suggested. “I want to see how high Misha can throw Hector.”