Psychic Bang!

In the dimly lit refuge room, a bulb flickered feebly before it finally succumbed, shattering with a soft pop. Shadows enveloped the space, plunging Clarke Higilton into an impenetrable darkness.

Yet, in this obscurity, Clarke's expression shifted. He sensed an anomaly; the light hadn't simply fizzled out, it lingered momentarily, a crucial few seconds that hinted at his burgeoning control over spiritual energy.

"Is this really happening? Can I actually manipulate spiritual energy?" Clarke murmured to himself, a sense of awe coloring his tone.

He explored this newfound realm with a cautious curiosity, gently coaxing the spiritual energy with his consciousness. It seemed pliable, extracted from an ethereal dimension, yet once released, it refused to be reclaimed, fading into the tangible world.

"Possibly, I'm approaching this all wrong," Clarke contemplated, opting for a different tactic. He tried to absorb the energy into his being.

What followed was nothing short of miraculous.

The energy, reminiscent of water seeping through parched earth, vanished into his body. A chilling sensation surged through Clarke's arms, spiraling into his chest before coursing throughout his body. It swirled inside him, finally converging towards his mind.

A shiver ran through him.

The coldness infiltrated his consciousness, prompting Clarke to snap his eyes shut. But in an instant, the icy sensation transformed into a soothing coolness, radiating explosively through his skull.

"Enlightenment!" he gasped, his voice echoing faintly in the dark room.

As Clarke slowly reopened his eyes, a peculiar gray hue flickered within his pupils, casting a ghostly pallor over his features. He looked almost spectral, his gaze emanating a chilling, damp gloom.

He frowned slightly, concerned. The infusion of energy into his mind was unintended, yet it brought an unexpected clarity, sharpening his senses in the pitch-black room.

"Could this be some form of dark vision?" Clarke wondered aloud, his voice tinged with astonishment.

As he surveyed his surroundings, the world appeared in a monochromatic spectrum of gray and white, eerily similar to the imaginary realm from which he had drawn the energy.

"Now, let's see if I can influence the electrical devices," Clarke mused, his confidence growing.

Approaching the lighting fixture, he reached out tentatively and flicked a switch.

Zizzi...

A soft electrical hum filled the room, and the light bulb, thought dead, flickered twice before bursting into life.

"Aren't you affected?"

Clarke Higilton's gaze was tinged with disbelief. The pulsing energy within his mind was tangible, yet it seemed to exert no influence on the lamp's glow. Admitting this aloud would be tantamount to revealing a secret about himself. Could it be that he had harnessed the elusive power of the psyche?

To verify his theory, Clarke focused intently on the lamp once more, his mind conjuring images fueled by psychic force.

Suddenly, a spectral gray-white arc of electricity streaked across his vision. As the mental energy surged, the previously serene lamp burst into a shower of sparks.

Boom!

The room, a sanctuary in Credence, plunged into darkness.

Witnessing this, Clarke furrowed his brow in contemplation. He briskly flicked on all the remaining lights, his piercing gaze locking onto one particular bulb.

In an instant, the targeted bulb shattered, its demise isolated, leaving its companions unscathed.

"Could I be a walking, human electromagnetic bomb?" Clarke murmured, realization dawning upon him.

He understood now. When psychic energy pooled in his mind, he could selectively wreak havoc on electronic devices. A mere glance, coupled with a mental jolt, was enough to short-circuit them, akin to an electromagnetic pulse.

The key difference now was control.

"Yet, the precise metrics of this power demand careful calibration..." Clarke pondered.

He sensed the emotional energy nestled in the imaginary realm, roughly the size of a rubber ball. Transformed into psychic energy, it shrank to a ping pong ball's dimensions.

The reality-borne psychic force was a mere fraction – one-tenth – and demolishing two bulbs had consumed another tenth of that.

"One percent of psychic energy can devastate a room's electronics or remotely shatter a bulb ten meters away. If this is the baseline, my mind harbors around a hundred units of this energy."

Clarke recalled his three-day sojourn in the hospital. The imaginary space he'd enveloped had reached over 3,000 individuals. In three days, these people had unwittingly donated 100 units of psychic energy to him.

After a quick mental calculation, Clarke adopted this standard as his unit of measure. It was imprecise, yet the only viable option for now.

In the future, with a dedicated team, more accurate assessments could be made, but that time was not now.

Yet, Clarke felt this was not the zenith of his psychic capabilities.

He closed his eyes once more, attuning himself to the subtle flow of spiritual energy within. It was neither gas, liquid, solid, nor plasma.

"It's akin to a electromagnetic wave... perhaps, the wave-particle duality?"

Clarke's expression shifted, a spark of insight igniting within him. He strode towards the elevator, ready to ascend back to the world above, his mind racing with possibilities.

"Annie, could you find me some beginner programming tutorials?"

Upon returning to his lavish villa in Credence, Clarke Higilton immediately addressed his digital assistant, Annie, who stood by attentively, her holographic form shimmering subtly in the ambient light of the spacious, modern living room.

"Certainly, Master Clarke. Do you have a preference for interactive, one-on-one lessons with instructors?" Annie's voice was infused with a hint of eagerness, as she stepped forward, her holographic image casting a faint glow on the sleek furnishings.

"No, just pull up the most popular introductory courses for now," Clarke replied, waving his hand dismissively as he sank into the plush sofa. The room's advanced holographic environment simulator sprang to life, projecting a virtual web page into the air before him, listing an array of programming courses:

- "Introduction to Optical Quantum Computer Assembly"

- "The Potential of G Language: We Will Eventually Become God"

- "Mechanical Ascension: The Language Art of Computers"

- "G+: From Entry to Entombment"...

Clarke browsed through the courses, noting that most required a fee, ranging from 100 to 1,000 crypto-dollars.

"It seems G language is the universal computer language in this world," Clarke mused, his gaze lingering on the floating titles. In this era where quantum computers reigned supreme, the rudimentary semiconductors and binary codes of the past were obsolete. The complexity of G language, as the assembly language of quantum computers, was daunting, yet intriguing.

However, Clarke was not entirely out of his depth. His past experience as a hacker provided a solid foundation, and he felt confident in grasping this new language through analogy.

With a thoughtful nod, he selected the highest-rated course and settled in, ready to immerse himself in the world of quantum programming. The room's lighting adjusted subtly, creating an optimal learning atmosphere as Clarke embarked on his new educational journey.