ALL NOVEL 0014 – Speculations and Physical Strength Improvement
In the days that followed, Zoe Carter found her routine aligning rather closely with her short-term plans.
During this time, she experimented with the timing of her tasks, switching the durations of various projects. Yet, after much consideration, she concluded that her initial schedule remained the most effective. Just as mornings were ideal for a run, evenings proved to be the perfect time for honing her sense of smell.
The cool evening breeze always helped Zoe focus as she earnestly committed to memorize the items associated with each scent, storing them in her olfactory database. Thus, she adhered to her original plans without deviation, as life during this period unfolded in a calm and uneventful manner. The sole noteworthy aspect was the third item on her short-term agenda: exploring personal changes and experimenting with hypotheses.
As the days wore on, Zoe confirmed her struggle with insomnia and took the bold step of attempting to induce sleep with the aid of sleeping pills.
Being classified as a controlled substance, sedative hypnotics required a physician's approval for purchase. Naturally, Zoe couldn’t easily procure them, nor did she wish to leave a trace of her acquisition. But she knew she could rely on her peculiar neighbour, Benny!
In Zoe’s eyes, Benny had always been an eccentric character. Provided one could endure his endless conspiracy theories and incessant prattle, having him as a friend was both interesting and convenient. Despite his apparent lack of activity throughout the day, Benny had a knack for producing oddities whenever Zoe was in need—be it rare CDs from decades past, limited-edition gaming consoles, or century-old wines from foreign vineyards. Benny always had something up his sleeve.
On January 22nd, Benny cornered her quietly in the fifth-floor stairwell. When she broached the subject of sleeping pills, he didn’t hesitate to oblige. Instead, he flashed a cryptic smile and declared, "As Eric Hoffer once said, we feel free when we escape—even if it's merely from the frying pan into the fire. Seniorita Zoe, you too believe this world is just a programme, don’t you? The red pill to reach the real world shall arrive shortly."
Faced with Benny's sudden fervour and his conspicuous gentlemanly attire, Zoe could only manage an awkward smile and feign agreement. She explained her mild insomnia and desire for a non-prescription sedative, conveniently omitting any mention of her wish to escape into another reality.
Reluctantly, she nodded, comforted by the fact that this time, Benny's conspiracy theories seemed more like youthful fantasies, in stark contrast to three months prior, when he’d taken to sleeping on the rooftop, convinced the government would trigger earthquakes to devastate the lower classes.
Compared to his previous delusions of grandeur and unrestrained narcissism, this behaviour felt relatively normal. Yet, one couldn’t help but envision him as an old man trapped within a youthful frame, reminiscent of a bygone era.
After skillfully arranging to treat Benny to dinner in gratitude, Zoe received a notification from the courier station that afternoon.
Knowing exactly what it entailed, she collected the package without delay. Inside, alongside familiar study materials, lay a batch of sleeping pills, their origin all too clear yet shrouded in uncertainty.
As for the pills’ safety, Zoe felt little concern—after all, her friendship with Benny, forged over five or six years, wasn’t a matter of life and death. While she’d always sensed something odd about his past—likely not the actions of a decent person—she believed he had genuinely turned over a new leaf.
Day by day, aside from amusing the elderly, passersby, and children, Benny seemed to idle away his hours, drinking, watching television, and perusing novels.
Thus, on the evening of January 21st, Zoe decided to proceed with her experiment using the sleeping pills she tentatively trusted. These sedative-hypnotics function by binding to receptors on the postsynaptic membrane of GABA neurons in the central nervous system, achieving their goal of alleviating insomnia.
However...
After testing, Zoe confirmed that even at the maximum adult dosage, the sleeping pills were utterly ineffective. She hesitated to experiment further—at least for the time being.
When it came to medicinal trials, Zoe had no inclination to delve too deeply. The sleeping pills were merely a rough validation of her own hypothesis.
Aside from the sleeping pill experiment, she modified her method of recording her daily physical condition to once a day, consolidating the numerous entries from January 19th into a single record labelled as the second. Subsequent records would be compiled before midnight each day.
In these summaries, her physical data clearly displayed an upward trend.
[Third Record: January 21, 2024]
[Maximum number of standard push-ups: 1850]
[Fourth Record: January 22, 2024]
[Maximum number of standard push-ups: 1920]
A mere comparison between these two records revealed that her physical endurance appeared to be steadily increasing. Though the magnitude of her improvements wasn’t substantial, the feeling of tangible progress was intoxicating—second only to the exhilaration she felt as she released her sense of smell, absorbing the world around her each night.
After all, witnessing a progress bar gradually fill was akin to the greatest temptation. If not for Zoe's strong self-discipline, she might have succumbed to the urge to continually push her physical limits.
Fortunately, she restrained herself, recognizing that an excessive and rapid recovery without understanding her energy source could be draining. No matter how fervently she craved progress, she needed to maintain a measured pace, executing her short-term plan with diligence and care.
On the surface, these days felt somewhat monotonous. Yet for Zoe, who relished her time at home, the journey of self-exploration, the meticulous recording of changes, and the exercise of self-discipline made her days profoundly fulfilling.
Moreover, after completing her morning run according to her short-term plan, she found ample leisure time to indulge in several games or delve into novels she had long yearned to read.
The short-term plan lacked strict time allocations for each task, allowing her to follow her schedule while still enjoying the occasional bout of entertainment. For a modern young person, this was more than enough—she could even say she was quite content.
These solitary yet gratifying days continued until the morning of January 23rd, when a phone call stirred the tranquility.
It was her editor, reaching out with a cheerful yet slightly admonishing tone. "It’s already Winter oh 1 23! The weather’s warming up, yet you haven’t sent me the new manuscript you promised to deliver by January 18?"
As Zoe listened to her editor’s friendly but pointed inquiry, a sudden realization dawned upon her:
Was she not, in fact, a web novel author?