“The Mentor’s Way”

“No! No! Incorrect! No! This part’s too vague and this whole section is completely wrong!”

Those were the first words of complaint that I remember Nuju saying to me as he partook in what would be the first of many lessons with me. I wasn’t surprised. I had read his academic evaluations shortly before he had come to my workplace. All of them spoke very highly of him; many other Seers who had taken him under their wing believed he was destined to become a fine scholar. Indeed, he was believed to be one of the brightest and most promising students Ko-Metru had seen in decades, maybe even centuries. He had a huge amount of potential.

However, there was a catch with taking on Nuju as a student — there always is in these sorts of things, I suppose. Despite his intellectual brilliance he was said to be… impatient and always said to be in a hurry. He was firm in his convictions and ideals, which was always a promising characteristic, but he was stubborn in his beliefs. Many had said it was difficult for him to see things from other perspectives. He was still a learner after all, and bright ones like him always stood behind their ideas.

I watched as the young Ko-Matoran glowered at me coldly. I took no offense to the gesture; it was a natural and totally normal stare amongst the Matoran of Ice. But Nuju’s eyes gleamed with more than just intellectual frustration and hunger; they glowed with disappointment.

He held out the tablet he had just finished reading. “This cannot be a useful learning tool, Ihu.” I smiled at him and walked to where he was sitting. Countless stone tablets lay scattered messily on the top of his table, each lecturing on a different subject of philosophy and science. Nuju held his hand out expectantly, clasping the tablet he was clearly displeased with. I took it from his hands and examined it closely.

“Nuju, you are critiquing a highly-acclaimed document,” I began. “This text is a record containing the notes of some of Metru Nui’s finest scientists. I do not see how their collaborative ideas on how to create Kanoka can be inaccurate, especially since they have been in practice ever since they were devised.”

“The information is hundreds of years old,” Nuju grumbled. “Since those years, scores of mask makers have proposed new and better ways to create Kanohi. These techniques are obsolete and outdated.” My new student’s tone was as firm as it was detached.

“And what do those mask makers base their improvements on?” I asked him. “They always refer back to this data when they wish to make improvements. The technology that created the first Kanoka, regardless of how old it is, laid the foundation for an entire business industry in this city.”

Nuju grumbled for a minute, his eyepiece expanding and shrinking as he re-examined the tablet in much closer detail. It was brand new and had been attached to his Matatu by a fellow named Vakama, who I had heard was becoming something of a rising star in the Ta-Metru foundries. I smiled at my new student courteously, despite the icy glares he gave me that seemed as sharp as a dagger. He still had so much to learn.

“Why am I studying this anyway?” he demanded, shaking his head fiercely. “I am no common student. If I was, I would have gone to the schools in Ga-Metru. Regardless of what you think, Kanoka studies are not relevant fields to the scholars of the future.”

I had expected this much from Nuju. “You study this to prove to you that great advancements in Matoran culture do not solely rely on stargazing or deciphering cryptic puzzles.”

Nuju frowned. “But studying Kanoka does not help us learn about the future.”

I turned away from him and walked across my observatory, coming to a stop near the massive window that looked out onto the frozen district of Ko-Metru. I had chosen to leave the room devoid of any personal effects, save my necessary stargazing equipment and basic furniture, though with the stainless reflective metals being bathed under the dying evening light, the room seemed to look like an artistic setting. It was beautifully minimalistic. I cleared my throat as I gazed at the distant stars above.

“To understand the future, you must first comprehend the basic things that allowed our societies to leap forward. You must understand the past and the present, before you are willing to judge the future.”

When I turned to face Nuju, he had a look of shock on his face, as if I had just muttered some foul Skakdi curse in the Great Temple. He almost seemed insulted.

“With all due respect, Ihu, the past is something we leave the Onu-Matoran to bumble about with. Every Ko-Matoran knows that making a difference to our society means consulting the patterns of the future. The past merely tells us what has gone before. It cannot guide us into our future.”

I frowned. Nuju was bright, but also naïve.

“But without learning the lessons of the past, how will we be able to adapt to the future? Our society is built upon the past. Every historical mistake anyone has ever made affected the way they address their future. The Great Spirit teaches us this. There is just as much importance in the past as there is in the future.”

“This would explain why many of your peers consider you such a maverick, sir.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the comment. It was true that the name of Ihu had both positive and negative connotations. For years, I had been described as one of Metru Nui’s finest thinkers and Seers; a pioneer in an age of development and prosperity. Many times before, I had met with figures in power I did not believe would have time for a dusty, old scholar like myself. In particular, my extensive knowledge and understanding of the prophecies of the future had earned me much praise. Many times over my career, I had deciphered some of Metru Nui’s most cryptic prophecies in high levels of detail.

Yet for one so relegated to learning and pondering, I had been called upon to lecture in Ga-Metru schools, the depths of the Archives, and even in the private rooms of the Ko-Metru Towers of Thought. Yet my tendency to place as much value on the past as I did on the future had caused many to comment that I was a tad eccentric, especially amongst the circles of the Ko-Matoran. I, personally, did not mind their words. Their reactions amused me. I gave Nuju a friendly smile as I continued to ponder his sharp statement.

“I suppose that would explain a great many things, Nuju, but that is the only controversial thing I have to say for the day. I hope I’ve given you plenty to think about. I would have failed you in every department if I didn’t. Perhaps the next time you’d like to exchange ideas, you’d be a little more willing to see things from a different perspective.”

Nuju snorted as he raised himself from the table he had been sitting at and left the room. I could tell in that instant he was going to have a rocky start with me. He wasn’t my student, not in mind or spirit, but he was a relatively new scholar in the Knowledge Towers. He would need a helping hand to get him through these early years, especially when surrounded by some of the best Seers the city had ever seen.

I would be more than happy to help him, but it would be up to Nuju to accept it and do the most important thing a Ko-Matoran could possibly do: listen.

I was standing in the lobby of one of the Metru’s innermost Towers of Thought. The atmosphere was tense and apart from the mechanical chirping sounds of the nearby Vahki drones that flooded the room, not a word had been said. Though it was expected that all would be quiet in the realm of Ko-Metru (hence the nickname, “the quiet Metru”), it was almost a relief to know the nearby scholars were bound by silence, so they would have no need to whisper rumors and gossip amongst themselves.

It had been two months since I had become Nuju’s mentor, and very unfortunately, he had not been responding well to my teachings. He found my methods nonsensical, my works unworthy of the academic praise they had received. More than once during our lectures, he had attempted to undermine my respectable standing, like many of my peers had when I myself was a young Seer, but I simply proved to be too well versed in my field of expertise to be undermined by a young upstart.

Many times over, Nuju had presented me hours of work that I had dismissed with the wave of my hand, which further fueled his irritation. There were always small oversights, not enough attention to detail, and not enough conclusive or compelling arguments. He did not hate the fact that I criticized his work; he hated the fact that I was right. Obviously, it had finally gotten to him.

I approached the group of Vahki, keeping a wary eye on the various scholars that encircled them from the corners of the room, their eyes boring holes into the back of my head as I approached. The Vahki squad leader, clearly of the Keerakh variety, split off from the rest of its team and approached me, taking long, calculated strides as it came closer. Beside it stood the relaxed form of Nuju, who was staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, a look of confusion decorating his blank face.

I sighed as I realized the cause of Nuju’s mental state. The Staff of Confusion was always said to be the most merciful of the Vahki stun tools, far more compassionate than the Vorzakh’s Staff of Erasing, but I always found it unnerving to see these drifters borne of the staff wander aimlessly in the streets of Ko Metru. The Vahki commander turned and barked an order at its comrades, and immediately, the other Keerakh turned to the other Ko-Matoran and began shooing them off. I looked up into the empty icy blue eyes of the commander, who stood as still as a Po-Matoran statue, and cleared my throat.

“I heard of what Nuju did. I do not condone what you did, but I wish there to be no lasting damage.”

The Keerakh shook its head slowly, its mechanical eyes never flickering off me. A short pause ensued and an almost sinister silence filled in the blank. It was numbing. Nuju continued to stare at the ceiling. Though he had not been my most yielding of students, I had never wished any ill. I cleared my throat again as I realized how long I had been rooted to the spot.

“Thank you for your assistance. I will escort Nuju back to my observatory whilst the effects wear off.”

The Vahki didn’t reply. Instead it broke itself from its motionless state and left the Tower along with its squadron and within mere seconds, they vanished into the blizzard outside. I frowned for a moment, then turned and herded the confused Nuju through the winding hallways and passageways. We strode past several rooms of prophecy, ancient centers of learning and various laboratories. Along the way, countless scholars scowled at me disapprovingly as I guided my pupil through the halls, though I paid the gestures no thought.

By the time we had returned to my observatory, near the very top of the tower, Nuju was back to his old self again, though he refused to talk until we were within the safety of my room. I seated him down in one of my armchairs before turning on him sternly.

“What was that?” I asked him. I was not being malicious.

Nuju shrugged. “The things you have been trying to teach me have not been about looking backwards or forwards! It’s all about looking to the here and now! How is that relevant? It was a sign of protest, Ihu!”

I fought back the urge to pull a face.

“A sign of protest? Screaming down the corridors of the Towers of Thought is not a sign of protest, especially when you’re complaining about my adequacy as a mentor. It gains you nothing! You know as well as I do that the Vahki monitor those buildings extremely well; they’ll withhold someone for making even the slightest noise. I’m surprised they were willing to escort you back to this Knowledge Tower and notify me of what had happened. What you did there was downright stupid!”

Nuju was silent. Accusing any Ko-Matoran of being stupid was a great offense, to say the least.

“You’re an excellent savant, Nuju. Your genius will take you far in your future career, but things like this will not do any favors for you! All it will do is make your peers assume you’re a brash fool who will have no proper place with them in the future.”

Something changed in Nuju’s eyes in that instant. It was subtle of course, like the ripples in a pond when you chucked in a pebble, but the effects were there nonetheless. I smiled inwardly. Finally, I was getting somewhere with him.

“I see,” he said plainly. His gaze then turned to the large telescope that sat outside on my balcony, the one I had used so many times to study the stars. “Perhaps we should see what secrets the stars can tell us tonight,” he said politely. “It would be a good way of taking our minds off this matter.”

“Maybe, but not tonight,” I said to him, a feeling of satisfaction washing over me. “You need to rest. Go think about what I’ve said. The mysteries of the Great Spirit will still be waiting here when we return tomorrow.”

I turned away and did not look back as Nuju left the observatory. My eyes were fixed on the twin suns setting in the distance, with their orange lights joining them in the retreat. Had my back not been turned, my pupil would have been able to see my expression, but since he couldn’t, only I could truly appreciate it. It was one of happiness.

After so much struggle and resistance, my student was finally beginning to take his first true steps on the path of becoming a great polymath.

Things had changed dramatically over the year.

From being my most defiant student to my most avid listener, Nuju had become more than just another pupil. He had become my friend, an intellectual peer. Since the incident with the Vahki, Nuju had begun to mellow somewhat, with his impatience and stubbornness fading to some degree.

He was still a razor-sharp critic, who analyzed everything that crossed his desk with intense scrutiny, but now he was really starting to grow as a scholar. With his newfound position, lessons had become much easier with him in the depths of the Knowledge Towers. He had even been permitted back into the Towers of Thought, despite the incident he had instigated the last time he was there. Word had obviously spread that he had finally begun to cooperate with my teachings.

Today, however, I had decided to do something a little bit different.

Feeling the need to push aside any lingering disagreements, I had decided to take him with me on a ‘semi-excursion’ to Ga-Metru. I myself was familiar with the region; many Ga-Matoran teachers had asked me to do lectures and had more than once offered me a position at the schools there. They were very respectable positions, but they were not suited to me. I could never really wrap my head around those Proto Level examinations. Still, coming to this district was always immensely pleasurable.

Unfortunately, however, Nuju was not quite as well traveled as I was, and was immediately thrust out of his comfort zone. I couldn’t help but smile. Like many Ko-Matoran, he rarely left the Knowledge Towers he was admitted into, let alone the Metru itself. So seeing his reaction to the stunning scenery of Ga-Metru was unforgettable.

We began our tour of the city’s greatest spiritual and learning hub with a trip past the Fountains of Wisdom, followed by a tour of the jaw-dropping Great Temple (a place that made even the most emotionally detached individuals feel in awe). We then went on an expedition along the coastline of the water region via a business called Macku’s Canoes. By the late afternoon, Nuju had chiseled up about forty-five pages of notes. Not surprising.

“Next time, I should take you to see the musicians in Le-Metru,” I remember saying as we walked across an intricately crafted bridge that overlooked the beautiful Protodermis Falls. “Nobody makes quite as good an orchestra as, surprisingly, the Le-Matoran. Some of their symphonies are breathtaking, provided they don’t have their choirs speak in that highly confusing Chute-Speak.”

Nuju grunted in acknowledgement and leaned against the railing, staring out at the orange suns and the glimmering, unpolluted waters of the Falls. The subtle hints in his body language suggested he was just taking a second to soak up the atmosphere; that aura of peace, harmony and tranquility that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the city. Seconds ticked by as the two of us just stood there, just watching the waters topple over the cliff tops and down to the rivers below.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked me gently. I did not look at him.

“To prove a point to you,” I replied.

“When do you ever do anything that doesn’t relate back to a point you are trying to prove?” Nuju asked. It was a rhetorical question.

Ignoring his wit for once, I continued.

“I wanted to prove to you that there is far more to this life than just sitting in skyscrapers and gazing up at the skies above for answers. So many Ko-Matoran look so far forward, they miss everything important that goes on around them. It’s an addictive lifestyle; not necessarily a bad one, but it can sometimes take away from your experiences.”

“So you want me to do my research during live Akilini games?” I laughed. “No, my friend, not at all. But the Great Spirit did not lay out all this beauty before us just so we could lock ourselves inside specialized laboratories and think about why it’s so beautiful. At times, one must simply appreciate what life offers us simple Matoran, rather than observe the world through narrow scopes and spyglasses.”

Nuju’s eyes gleamed with deep contemplation. “You are a very wise soul, Ihu. Metru Nui will never have a Seer more insightful than you.”

I smiled at him as I finally forced myself to meet his gaze, my mind having finally reached the heart-felt conclusion it had been trying to make for days.

“And that is why I am now challenging you to prove that statement wrong, my friend. You no longer need me now, and your Destiny is your own. I have taught you just about everything I can and you have finally learned the one thing I have been trying to teach you this entire time. Everything else was just an added bonus.”

Nuju’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “And what would that one thing be?”

I paused for a second before I found the right words. “Humility and respect; the ability to look beyond your own opinions by accepting and understanding the views of others. By learning to keep an open mind for yourself.”

“Ihu, you have a visitor waiting for you in your observatory.”

I turned away from the group of philosophers I had been talking with to face a young messenger. Ehyre, I believe his name was. “Tell them to make an appointment first,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I, like any one of the Matoran here, am very busy right now. And I’m also due to leave in a few minutes as well. So please tell this guest to either sit and wait in my office for the next week or so or head off home.”

Ehyre stiffened non-too subtly as he said his next words. “Sir, I believe your visitor is an old student of yours. Seer Nuju awaits you in your office.”

I turned back to the messenger, a look of surprise on my face. It had been four years now since Nuju had officially completed his training with me, and since then, he had gone on to experience a very successful career as a thinker in the upper echelons of Ko-Matoran society. He was scarcely found outside his new observatory, where his restless mind could focus without a hint of distraction. It was then I noticed something else.

Ehyre had said his last statement through gritted teeth, and he had made no effort to disguise his discomfort in mentioning my friend’s name. Something clicked in my mind. Ah yes, this was that Matoran whose scholarship Nuju had very bluntly denied. He had said the Matoran was ill suited to the role; he lacked patience, was too talkative and quick to act. Personally, I suspected Nuju had seen too much of himself in the enthusiastic errand runner.

“Tell him I’ll be right with him,” I said. Ehyre nodded solemnly and left without a word. I quickly excused myself from the scholars I had been chatting with and hastily made my way through the crystalline corridors of the Tower. Meetings like those were always rather dull.

Arriving at my observatory, I opened the doors to see Nuju standing out on my balcony, gazing up through my telescope. He turned at the sound of my entrance and nodded courteously, the ghost of a smile on the tips of his mouth. I smiled back to him as we walked up and tapped each other’s fists lightly.

“Nuju, my friend! How have you been?”

My former student’s telescopic lens zoomed in and out as he looked around the room. “I am most well, Ihu. Since we formally parted ways as student and teacher, I have been involved in a large number of research projects. I also noticed you have redecorated your observatory since the last time we visited one another. I don’t like it.”

Though it wasn’t obvious, this was Nuju’s version of a joke. The only main problem with him telling a joke was the fact that he never smiled or made it seem like he was actually trying to say something funny.

“Well, fill in a complaint and see how far it gets you,” I replied. “I’m sure our peers will get a good laugh out of you criticizing the décor of my office.”

Nuju titled his head, then dismissed my statement and continued. “How have you been since we last met? Taken any more students under your wing?”

“Not this time,” I said as I took a seat in one of my armchairs. “The amount of stress you put me under sometimes was enough to make me realize I wouldn’t be taking any more promising Matoran into my studies.”

“So what do you do now?” asked Nuju as he seated himself in the chair that lay opposite my own.

My eyes trailed off over his shoulder as I thought of a response. “I’ve been participating in some fairly big science projects. Many value my comprehensive knowledge on the prophecies, so I haven’t run out of interesting work just yet. However, I have been relegating myself to smaller works.”

There was a pause. It was in no way awkward. Many Ko-Matoran paused mid-conversation to collect their thoughts and catalog their feelings. It was a perfectly natural habit.

“You’re going somewhere, are you not?” Nuju asked.

I fought back the urge to ogle at him. He was spot on. “What makes you say that?”

Nuju shrugged.

“Your most important intellectual properties are not present on your desks. Implication is they have been stored somewhere. Your telescope’s lenses have been changed. Ko-Matoran rarely bother to change their lens caps unless they are leaving for long periods of time. Also, the door to your office was locked; fortunately, I know the code to your office. You really must change that.”

Nuju inhaled a breath of air as he concluded his deduction. “My hypothesis: you are departing Ko-Metru. Most likely to conduct another talk.”

I chuckled lightly, more to myself for having made that all so obvious for him. “Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me, Nuju. Indeed, you are correct. A group of Archivists want me to sit as a guest speaker in a public talk. I’m to talk about the relevance the past has on determining the future.”

Nuju sighed and rolled his eyes. “Typical. The Onu-Matoran’s work gets more attention than it deserves, especially with all those constant expansions to their Archives. One day, I’ll make sure the importance of the future and the significance of our research will become well known to them.”

I smiled at him with an unexpected amount of warmth. “Well, when you become the next great pioneer of our future, remember to name something after me.”

Nuju smiled back at my joke. “Consider it done.”

Nuju’s smile surprised me; there had been very few (if any) occasions where I had seen him actually do so. I peered outside the window and stared at the suns, giving me an understanding of the time of day. Deciding now would be the best time to leave, I rose from my armchair and moved to my desk.

“Now then, my friend, I believe it is time for me to depart. I don’t want to miss my trip,” I said as I picked up a Chute System pass ticket. “I’ve already got my luggage at the station and you know what those attendants are like; so unwilling to skip the standard procedure when you don’t board in time.”

As I began to make my way towards the door, Nuju rose and raised his fist, which I bumped firmly into as I deviated from my journey to the door.

“Best of luck with your oration, Ihu,” he began, his voice filled with a surprising amount of genuine emotion in his tone. By the sound of it, he clearly valued me as much as a friend as a mentor. “I would be very interested in hearing what those narrow-minded Onu-Matoran will have to say on your comments. Have a safe trip.”

“Oh, Nuju,” I said merrily with a wide grin etched on my face. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

And this concludes my memoirs for the time being. Being a Ko-Matoran, I feel recording these reflections on a series of stone tablets is both irksome and unnecessarily tedious, so I have devised a better way to relate my thoughts. Indeed, many will question my use of this Memory Crystal for sentimental purposes, or even brand me as downright selfish for trying to leave some small imprint of myself upon this world in such a complicated manner, but I do not see any better way.

The Memory Crystal’s potential goes far beyond that of a mere data storage tool; it can be used to record entire biographies and accounts of one’s life without the painstaking effort of carving letters on tablets. It’s a quick and easy method of transferring information, so I see no reason for my colleagues to intervene because of my unusual usage of this crystal.

Whilst my memoirs are currently incomplete — my tutoring of Nuju simply being a smaller section of a much larger piece of work — I intend to properly conclude them once I return from my excursion to Onu-Metru. Until then, I leave you with a small statement I once gave to Nuju, one that had him thinking for days:

Life is a puzzle that cannot easily be solved. It takes much time and patience to piece its riddles together, and then to understand its meaning. If these mysteries frustrate or confuse you, do nothing more than look to the skies above and keep an open mind. Your future is not a series of events set in stone; your future, my friends, is whatever you make it out to be…