Space.

The first memory I have.

The experience of space around me.

Space everywhere outside and inside me.

Everything was space.

Wide. Open. Infinite.

But I didn't recognize it.

I only existed.

Until I realized it.

And I fell, followed by - a shadow?

        ***

Time.
I felt the first moment passing.
Something was before it that is no more.
Dead, unreachable.
Everything passes.
I didn't understand what it meant,
only that I wasn't passing.
Nor did something else, something that had torn me into this abyss, into eternal death.
It fell and swept me away, tore infinity apart.
And all that remained was the death surrounding me but could never be mine.
But perhaps that of my enemy.

 

2006, Monday, August 28th, Concord (New Hampshire, USA)

What do you do when a stranger disintegrates right in front of you? eleven-year-old Steve, to whom this had just happened, asked himself. And whether it made any difference that it had been a stranger. It should—or shouldn't it?

10 minutes earlier:

Steve ducked behind a hedge and suppressed a sneeze as the dust of some dried leaves got up his nose. He listened to the excited whispering of the other boys in the evening silence as they looked for a place to smoke after dividing the stolen cigarettes between them. They were talking about a “soooo cool” movie with superheroes that they had all seen during the summer vacations. No one seemed to notice that he was missing. Maybe it wasn't wise of him not to follow them. As the new kid at school, he should have followed them. But they were all at least two years older than him and talked about things he wasn't interested in, like those X-men. Probably completely unrealistic nonsense - even if he would have liked to be part of something like that.

Steve was about to stand up when the sound of footsteps on the dry dirt path made him pause. He peered through the sparse foliage and saw an older man coming up the path with slightly unsteady steps. He was wearing a rather old-fashioned suit and as he passed Steve, he smelled of pipe tobacco.

Steve wondered if this was a professor he didn't know yet and what he might be teaching. And what was he doing on the path at this time of day? It led between fields to a small wood at the edge of the school grounds. What was he doing there?

There was something about the way the man was moving making made Steve curious. Although slow, the walk was purposeful. But what could the destination be? From what Steve knew, there were only more hedgerows and fields in that direction, certainly nothing that such a meticulously dressed older gentleman would be interested in so late at night. Steve immediately imagined all sorts of exciting scenarios, secret meetings, unknown species that could be observed, perhaps something criminal.

He got up quietly and followed the man. When he had left the hedges behind him, he stopped abruptly and turned to face Steve. Steve stopped, startled, but before he could react, he realized the man wasn't looking at him at all, but up and over him. Not directly into the sky, more like he was trying to see something above Steve.

Steve put his head back and stared upwards - but there was nothing but the night sky. When he looked back at the man, he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he grimaced and grabbed his head as if he was in pain, dropping a bunch of keys in the process. Reflexively, Steve bent down, picked it up and when he stood up again .... the man had disappeared.

But there was something else, right before he stopped seeing him ... a kind of light, bluish, a movement of something invisible ...

He blinked; it didn't make any sense. His eyes felt like he had been looking at the sun for too long, they were dry, and they burned. Whatever he had seen was gone and a sharp pain spread through his head. As hard as he tried despite the headache, he could not recall what he had seen.

Carefully, he turned his head and looked around, but in the darkness of the late evening, he could see no more than before: the heat-dried sandy ground of the country lane beneath his feet, the surrounding fields, some hedgerows a little way off and, still further away, the outline of the walls surrounded the grounds of St. Paul's School.

He knelt on the still-warm ground and took a closer look at the spot where the older man had been standing. There was nothing there but a few withered blades of grass and small stones on the path. And the smell of tobacco still lingering in the air. Steve ran his hand over his eyes and felt a stabbing pain in his head again. Ever since he had seen ... His memory felt unusually hazy, slipping away every time he tried to grasp it.

"Are you praying or are you going to puke?"

A rough push on the back of his neck made him jump up and wheel around to his classmates. Far too jerky, he felt dizzy and slightly nauseous, their giggling made him clutch the bunch of keys clasp tighter. He tried to put what he had experienced into words.

"I saw a man and then he nuked himself."

The giggles turned to laughter and Steve felt his face grow hot. He knew it sounded stupid - but that's exactly what had happened.

"Sure, you're an X-Men, you're so super smart and special anyway."

The boy was almost a head taller than Steve and smelled unpleasantly of cigarette smoke. And he was much closer to him than Steve would have liked. Steve took a step back and was about to leave when he bumped into one of the other boys, who hurriedly pushed him away.

"Find someone else to cuddle with."

“I don't want to cuddle with you.” Steve backed away further, all he wanted to do was go home and research how to nuke a human. It had been the most exciting thing he'd ever experienced - and also the scariest. He barely noticed the other boys, his eyes searching for the blue light he had seen just moments before. If only he could remember correctly what that other thing had been that he ...

"Oh right, guess I'm not good enough for you."

The pain from a blow to the back made him cry out. Before he could react, they started shoving him back and forth between them, yelling. Steve heard footsteps approaching and someone from the group shouted to the newcomers, “Weed thinks he's an X-Men.”

This distracted him and the next push sent him to the ground, his glasses flew off his nose and he flung his arms over his head. But no more shoves or punches followed, he heard a brief scuffle, and then a new voice said, “Obviously he's not.” Again, everyone laughed, but it sounded less arrogant than before. Someone hissed, “Mr. Dean's coming,” and then it sounded like everyone was making a run for it. He carefully took his arms off his head and looked up. A hand was held out to him, and he grabbed it. A boy pulled him up and handed him his glasses.

“What was that about?”

Steve blinked, put his glasses back on, and looked at the other boy. Now he recognized him, the thick lip from the last ice hockey training session was unmistakable. Cain, he had memorized the name, like his twin brother Abel.  It wasn't easy to forget, even if they weren't very similar for twins - Abel seemed to have split off with the other boys.

“I told them I saw a man who'd been nuked.”

“What, like the professor?”

“What kind of professor? It was like one moment he was there and the next he wasn't.”

“You know, like in the X-Men when the professor got nuked ... but stuff like that only happens in the movies, not in real life. ”

“But it did. I have his keys - he dropped them, and when I picked them up to give them back to him, he nuked himself.”

“Did he nuke himself or was it someone else? It doesn't matter, because that can't happen in real life."

“It can, but you won't understand.”

“Hey, I'm not stupid.”

“I didn't say that, just that you won't understand it, just like I don't understand sport.”

“What is there to understand about sports?” Cain grinned. “But whatever happened, you should tell a teacher.”
Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
Cain patted the sand off Steve's sweater. They walked back towards the school grounds in silence. Steve looked furtively over at Cain.

Why is he being so nice to me? Does he think I'm crazy or does he really care what I say?

Steve was aware that the answer was important to him. It would be nice to have a friend, someone he could talk to, figure things out, solve puzzles, someone who - liked him.

He shivered despite the warm summer night, his steps slowing as he walked even closer to Cain. Something about Cain made him feel less alone as if he could protect him from more than his classmates. Steve didn't believe in the supernatural or premonitions, but he couldn't shake the fear. Something had happened, something icy had touched him, and now he felt like a shadow was following him. There was something that felt lonely, cold - and furious.

Don't go crazy, there are no ghosts or anything like that, they're just scary stories. There's a reasonable explanation for it, some force caused it. But what can just atomize a person like that?

What would have happened if I had walked a meter further if I had been standing where the man disappeared? Would I be dead now? Or something else entirely?

Steve's head pounded and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. But despite his fear, something else was bothering him.

“Cain, what are X-men?”

2029, Sunday, April 15th, Boston (Massachusetts, USA)

The smell of fresh almond macaroons drifted into the living room from the small but well-equipped kitchen, mixed with the slightly bitter smell of burnt cookies. This was rather unusual, but today a message on his Mac had distracted Dr. Steve Floros, the originator of both the delicious smell and its embarrassing undertone.

Physics could be exciting - at least it had electrified Steve for 23 years. In his search for an answer to the question that had haunted him since the day in the summer so many years ago, he had seen things that appeared impossible. And despite the devastating consequences for his life, he could not give up. He believed in one thing like other people believed in God: in physics and a physical explanation for everything. And that this answer would finally give him the chance to lead a life beyond this search.

The alternative would be devastating. If he wasn't fired, his future would be filled with theories, conferences, and calculations of things that, if he was honest, didn't interest him much. His only focus was to find an answer to the question: how someone could dissolve into his components and how could Steve prove such a thing was possible. His entire life since he was twelve years old had been focused on this, every education, every journey, every expense, every spare hour of his time.

And today was a day when he hoped to make one important step closer to solving the mystery. Mac, his ubiquitous laptop and assistant substitute had found a lot of promising reports during a routine scan of the media in the Boston area. So many, that Steve received a message from Mac suggesting an on-site check.

One look at the map was enough to turn "promising" into "exciting" for Steve - all the reports during the last few days had come from Concord. And not only did he know Concord well, but his best friend also lived there.  Steve couldn't imagine anyone better, not only because he was his only friend and Steve could call him on a Sunday afternoon to send him on a hunt for something he didn't want to explain.

His stomach growled and Steve looked at his watch. The aroma from the kitchen was tantalizing despite the mishap, but it would only be light for another two hours or so. What if he went to Concord himself? Cain would certainly be happy about the macaroons and about the visit - but he would persuade Steve to join him for a cozy Sunday evening, a temptation he could only avoid by staying at home. Steve sighed and reached for the phone. Once again, he postponed dinner today, and as much as he would have liked to go to Cain's, this could be a hot lead.

 2029, Sunday, April 15th, Concord (New Hampshire)

 Cain Raptis rolled his eyes as "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley interrupted a dramatic scene. He wiped his crumb-covered hands on his jeans and reached for his phone without taking his eyes off the screen. "Blow anything up today?"

"Discovered a scientific sensation today?"

He heard Steve laugh. "No, not quite yet but that's exactly why I'm calling - I need you for an experiment."

Cain pulled himself up on his comfy sofa and sat up straighter. That sounded a little worrying, but knowing Steve, it could mean a lot of things, so why assume the worst? "Hm, today is Sunday and you're calling from home. Let me guess: Something in the kitchen? Either broken or you need a guinea pig for a new specialty a la Steve?

Please let it be something like that - but today was not his lucky day.

“Up until an hour ago, you would have guessed correctly, and the answer would have been: the macaroons you like so much, with an extra flavor. But then a message came from Mac and the macaroons were burnt. It's something exciting - and it's in Concord.”

"What's exciting in Concord - apart from me?"

"Magnetic field interference! Both interference from magnetic fields and interference caused by magnetic fields."

Steve was so in nerd mode he didn't acknowledge Cain's comment. And to mention the macaroons - nasty, now he had the smell in his nose. It would be nice if it was about something normal for a change, something they could joke about and forget about over a good movie. But with Steve ... Cain tried to concentrate. "I see, and why do you need me? You know I can fix almost anything, or at least make it work temporarily. But these genius skills aren't what you want from me, are they?"

"Right, although I do appreciate them - but today I need you to take me on something like a joyride through Concord."

Cain blinked in irritation. "Where to?"

"Can't tell you, simply go for it, what else do you mean by a joyride? Come on, tear yourself away from your Crowley and take a few laps with me."

Shoot, the show was still on. "Don't blaspheme or I'll have to mention you can recognize Good Omens over the phone by the music." Cain switched off the player.

"I know you well. Call me when you're out and about … and take your CB radio with you."

"My CB radios? What kind of weird experiment is this?" Cain waited a moment, but Steve had hung up. Driving around town for Steve with his radio? Cain didn't have a good feeling about this. Steve sounded excited in exactly the way he did when he was about to chase after one of his obsessions. And getting nowhere.

What if I just stay here comfortably? He didn't even wait for me to say yes. As usual. Not that I don't want to help him, but it's so frustrating to watch. Every time he gets so excited and thinks he's finally going to find his answer.

Sighing, Cain stood up, looked down at his crumpled clothes, said goodbye to the rest of his pizza with a heavy heart and slicked his hair back. He didn't have far to drive and would be on hand if things turned out to be a flop again. Why couldn't Steve let it go?

***

Steve put the tin with the meagre remains of his favorite tea back on the shelf with a look of chagrin - too annoying that he could only get it from a colleague in Europe. He sat back down at his desk with a fresh mug of mate tea when Cain called.

“Okay, I've taken the truck, I've got the radio. What should I do now - and more importantly, why should I do it?”

“The what is easily explained.” Steve opened various maps of Concord on a screen to supplement the reports and evaluations on the Mac. “I want you to drive around with your GPS, radio and cell phone on the whole time. Drive north from you towards St. Pauls, but don't take the interstate, take the back roads.”

"Alright so far." Steve heard Cain start the engine, and shortly afterward the GPS announced 'route being calculated'.

"All right, I'm on my way - now tell me why I'm doing this nonsense?"

"Because you're my best friend and you're willing to do science a service?" Hearing Cain's familiar gasp, Steve hastily continued.

"Seriously, I've come across something interesting. Mac's been recording magnetic field disturbances in a large area on the east coast for some time, much more frequently than statistically normal."

"Ha."

"I know that tone, and I can reassure you: I deliberately made the grid wide so Mac wouldn't sound the alarm every time a random irregularity occurred. The accumulation in the last two weeks was so huge it still triggered the alarm. And not or not only because of the quantity but because they were concentrated in Concord and the frequency increased. Do you understand?"

"Not exactly."

Steve could almost see Cain's skeptical face in front of him. He waited.

"When you talk about incidents, a word you use in a rather inflationary way, - what do you mean in this case?"

Steve was about to answer when he heard a short whistle from Cain's car, next a crackle, followed by the words >route being recalculated<.

"That! That's exactly what I mean! Pull over now - where are you now?"

"On the corner of Silk Farm Road and Clinton Street. There's a training center, the animal shelter, and some charitable institution - what's supposed to be exciting there?"

If only Cain understood what this could mean and shared his excitement. He forced himself to stay calm and not let his excitement show.

“Your radio and sat nav had brief interference - it could have been caused by an unusual magnetic field. But without measurements from other devices, I can't say for sure.”

He heard Cain mutter “Of course, you can't” and then start the engine.

“Where to now?”

“Drive to St. Paul’s, over the 202 into the center, over the 9, and right down Airport Road. That way we cover a lot of ground - and I don't have to tell you where the hotspots are, otherwise, you'll say I influenced you later.”

"Ah, am I Schoedinger’s cat now?"

Steve stifled a correction to the comparison; he knew Cain hated that. When he got near the St. Pauls, Cain's mood appeared to lift.

“Did you hear those two guys from the school made the national team?”

Steve only needed a glance at his chat with Mac. "Ah yeah right, Godwin and Hartley."

He imagined Cain staring aghast at the speakerphone and giggled until Cain snorted indignantly. “Oh man, how many times have I told you not to let Mac listen in? It makes me uncomfortable.”

"Sorry, must be, Mac checks the data all the time. But in confidence" ... Steve's voice took on a conspiratorial tone, "I think Mac's an ice hockey fan like you."

He waited to hear Cain laugh, but he said nothing for a moment and then, "Mac's a what?"

Steve paused. "Ice hockey fan - didn't you hear me?"

"Nah, you said "Mac's a" - and then nothing."

"Stop!  Where are you now?"

Cain was silent for a moment and Steve thought the connection had broken again. "Past the hospital."

“Oh.” They both had dim memories of the place.

After a while, Cain asked, “Should I keep driving?”

"Yes, the hospital is on the hotspots list, but there could be lots of reasons."

They were silent for a while in agreement, dwelling on their memories, but Cain's curiosity won out - as much as he always tried to talk Steve out of his research, he was still always curious.

“Why are magnetic field disturbances so important? I mean, such fluctuations can always occur.”

Steve sighed. With that, his hope of keeping Cain busy driving around long enough died. This question would be easier to answer when they found what Steve was hoping for. But if he didn't explain it to Cain, he wouldn't understand why it was important and would dismiss it again as a crazy idea - or worse.

“You know what electromagnetic interaction is, don't you?”

"It's one of the basic forces of physics, the thing that holds atoms together, Maxwell's laws and stuff, right?"

"You can put it like that." A noise caught Steve's attention - Cain had abruptly slowed down.

"Now don't tell me you're looking for the world formula."

Steve laughed with relief; if Cain was worried about something like that, then everything was fine.

 “You may think I'm clever, but my brain is light years away from that. No, it's not about that. Just keep driving, I'll explain - where are you now?”

Cain started the engine again. “I've just turned onto Airport Road and I'm about to pass the airport. Come on, now spit it out, what are you trying to find?”

Steve took a deep breath. This wasn't the first time they'd been at this point. He wanted so badly to believe that he would find it this time. “If there's a force that holds atoms together - and someone could manipulate the force... then you could use it to dissolve atoms - atomize things, that is.”

He waited with bated breath for the freak-out from Cain which always came when Steve used the word “atomize.” Not today. There was absolute silence on the other end of the phone.

Did I take it too far? Should I have explained to Cain what it was about beforehand? But then he would have just tried to talk me out of it and ... what if he was seriously pissed off now? Steve expelled the air he had been unconsciously holding. “Cain? Are you mad?”

No answer. “Cain?” Nothing.

Steve's gaze jerked from the Mac's screen to the map of Concord - and the cluster of markers on Airport Road just past the airport. “That's it, that must be it! Awesome, I found it, Cain found it, I'm ... standing here like a moron talking to this stupid computer! Sorry Mac, I didn't mean it like that, it's just ....”

Steve paused, closed his eyes and consciously breathed in and out a few times before slowly sitting back down at his desk. Whatever this meant, Cain must have found something - only he couldn't tell Steve anymore, the communication had been interrupted abruptly.

***

A loud cracking sound, almost like a bang, made Cain flinch so much that he almost crashed the car. Then it rattled and creaked eerily. It was coming from his CB radio, or so he assumed, his phone and sat nav were just staring innocently at him from blank screens.

Breathing heavily slowly, he pulled over, turned on the hazard lights, and got out, wobbling slightly on his feet. Strange creaking noises now came from his car and Cain felt so uncomfortable that he moved a little further away.

The last thing he had heard from Steve was "If there is a force that holds atoms together - and someone could manipulate the force ... then ..."

"Then what you lunatic!"

Even if it was illogical, the shouting calmed him down. He went on with it, letting out all the things he didn't want to say to Steve's face.

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to yourself? Stop chasing after this madness, at some point, it's going to land you in the loony bin for good. Can't we just have a good time together for once? Like we used to?”

Cain paused. Yes, they had had good times and terrible times, but that part of Steve had always been a part of their friendship. He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor. Still cold, but now he could think more clearly.

He leaned back, looked up at the slowly darkening sky, and took a deep breath of the cold air. The idea of Steve without his obsession with 'the truth' … didn't work. And Cain had learned to live with it but had never believed that Steve could find what he was looking for.

And today?

Something was interfering with the signals in the area, that much was clear. Although he hardly needed it for work, Cain knew a lot about electrical engineering. Even as a child, he had tinkered with everything from bicycles and lawnmowers to his neighbor's moped and had a soft spot for machines. After an incident with the vacuum cleaner, his parents sent him to a course so that he wouldn't accidentally set the house on fire with his tinkering. Instead, Cain caught fire and had learned so much that it would be enough for a second career. For Cain, electrical engineering was a hobby and, if he was honest, something he hoped would help him understand Steve better.

Sighing, he got up again. Sitting here was no use - apart from dirty trousers, he had clearly underestimated the muddiness of the ground. Cain shivered. He had to get at least far enough away from the source of this disturbance for his devices to work again.

When he got into the car, there was no more creaking, but his cell phone and GPS were still useless.

It was strange to experience this alone, usually, Steve was always there when Cain felt like he did now: excited, somehow exhausted, but above all confused. And the fact that he was missing Steve made him really angry. He drove on tensely until the longed-for navigation system voice announced near the highway: “Route being recalculated”. He grabbed his cell phone as if he wanted to strangle it and hit speed dial 1.

***

Steve got up from his desk once again, this time to wash his hands unnecessarily. Not being able to reach Cain made him uneasy. Surely there was nothing to worry about. But what if...

He went into the kitchen, picked up a macaroon and, after sitting down again, placed it with the other two, which were already lying unnoticed next to Mac. Steve tried to fill the time with more stochastic models.

But there were simply no patterns to be found in the data, nothing seemed to make sense, especially not the locations of the hotspots.

The hospital might play a role, but there were only weak readings there. The most likely place would be the airport if someone was trying to do something with the interference - but everything was fine there, the interference was too far away to have a direct effect. One could be grateful for that, such a disturbance at the airport could end in a catastrophe. The distribution was random, or at least it looked that way, although Steve refused to believe it could be a coincidence. But no matter how much he pondered it and how he analyzed the distribution of disruptions, the data, and the distances, they just didn't make sense.

When the phone finally rang, he hastily picked it up. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No, I'm absolutely not okay.” Cain snorted. “Do you have any idea how I felt when that creepy tone came out of my radio and the phone went dead? Couldn't you have warned me? Was the stupid effect so important to you that you had to let me drive into it?”

Steve fell silent, shocked. He hadn't expected that he hadn't seen Cain that angry for ages, he must have been seriously scared. But Cain didn't just sound angry, it was more than that. He can't really believe I did that on purpose, can he?

“I'm sorry, I didn't think about it. Sorry, I didn't realize that... sorry.”

He heard Cain curse and take a deep breath. “Alright, was your experiment successful, can I go home now?”

Cain's tone made Steve wince. He decided not to call his bluff at that moment. “Sure, go home, and thank you very much, you've helped me a lot. I'll be up for a while doing calculations if you want to talk later...” He let the sentence hang in the air and Cain was silent for a while too.

“Okay, see you later, I'll be in touch.”

Steve leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his eyes. I messed that up. Why don't I ever think long enough about something like this? Cain didn't deserve it that I let him rush in there unprepared. Especially since I couldn't know for sure what might happen if Cain actually found something. Maybe I didn't even believe it anymore.

Still, the violent magnetic field disturbances Cain had run into weren't where they would have been expected based on Mac's evaluations. Steve began further calculations of probabilities, taking the new data into account, went through the last records of solar flares again, and tried all the time series analyses that were possible with Mac. He was talking to Mac about anomaly detection and, as usual, felt a little crazy when he realized he was talking to him like he was talking to... maybe most likely someone he lived with. It happened to him a lot, and if he didn't pay attention, there was nothing strange about these conversations - unless he noticed it. Cain would say I should be more worried about talking to Mac than the formalities. Steve sighed; missing Cain's quips didn't make the job any easier. When their permanent chat came back on an hour later, to Steve's relief, it had only produced results for the garbage can, all of them completely implausible.

>I'm at home and have treated myself to a beer. That was a real scare<.

>Sorry<.

>What did you find out? <

Steve hesitated. >That I'm an idiot - or can't do math. Everything the results tell me doesn't make sense in my calculations<

>Shit, so I almost wet my pants for nothing? <

This elicited a smile from Steve despite his disappointment. He wrote: >Yep, that was free :-)<

>You must be disappointed. <

Typical Cain, however annoyed he is with me, he almost always knows how I feel.

>Yeah, sure, I thought I had it this time. But that would be crazy to be able to manipulate a power like that... do you think I'm insane? <

The cursor blinked for a ridiculously long time before the answer came.

>Insane in what way? <

Ah, that's a yes.

>I don't know how you're going to put up with me, so I'll release you from me for today and go to bed. <

>Okay, but if you still want to talk, that's fine<

>Thanks, it's okay, have a nice evening with your Demon<

Just as he was about to click shutdown, another message came from Cain. >Are you okay? <

Steve swallowed. No, he wasn't, but he closed Mac and went to bed.

 2028, Friday, November 10th, Boston

 Rena hurried through the over-lit corridor of the better floors of the FBI building on her way to her supervisor's office. A secretary rushed past her, heels clacking and a reproachful glance at Rena's shoes, on her way to the end of the day. Rena tried to move more cautiously. But that didn't stop the unpleasant squeaking sound her legwork shoes made on the polished stone floor. What the hell. She accelerated again to end the uneventful day.

Rena was surprised to be called to see the director so soon after an unspectacular interview, right before the weekend. Was it about the efficiency study she had submitted?

When she entered, Director Gray was on the phone and gestured for her to sit. Rena took a seat in one of the more practical than elegant chairs in front of Gray's desk. As she made the impossible attempt to find a comfortable position in the chair, she wondered whether and how she should include her colleague's incompetence in her report. At Gray's indignant “Never again”, she looked up - Gray was talking to her.

“What do you mean 'never again', Director Gray? I know you didn't request an employee efficiency study, but it was in line with the training I'm doing, and I worked it out on my own time.”

He ignored the comment, and his piercing stare from beneath his too-thin eyebrows pulled together caught Rena off guard.

“Never again, Agent Lynch. You promised it would never happen again. And here I have four complaints about you. Four! You weren't even on the case that many days. What's your excuse?”

“Who complained and about what?”

Rena asked, not out of genuine interest, but more to buy time. So, it's not about my study - probably no one has read it anyway.

“You don't know that, do you, Lynch? Let's take your last interview today, we don't need to go back any further. What do you think someone could complain about?”

Rena pondered - not who could have complained about what, she knew she hadn't made a mistake. She wondered where Gray had gotten a complaint from a mission less than two hours ago. She straightened up in her chair as much as she could and looked directly at him.

“I didn't do anything wrong. You won't find anything I didn't do by the book.”

“And that's the only reason you still have the job, Lynch. People complain about the way you treat them. For example, the woman you interviewed at the clinic. She said you treated her like” - he looked at the file that lay a little tattered on the imposing desk in front of him - ”like a piece of furniture that was in your way.” Gray looked at her questioningly. Rena remained silent and looked at the file with irritation.

“You didn't break any rules, you never do. But couldn't you have let the woman finish dressing before you questioned her? She just had an... unpleasant experience, to say the least, and you sat there working through the questionnaire.”

It sounded as if he had been there. “That's why I was sent there. Agent Drake was there for the same reason and questioned the witness about me as well.” And then, all at once, she was sure where Gray had gotten the complaint. He'd forgotten something. That's why Drake questioned my witness again.

“Exactly, but no one complained about him. That's the point. And you don't seem to understand that.”

Rena's gaze followed Gray's fingers as he ran them through his immaculately coiffed, if sparse, hair in a fierce motion - no improvement.

Rena clenched her fists. Sure, no one had complained about Ken the suck-up, he'd done nothing but exude put-on niceties.

Gray snapped the file shut. “No one wants to work with you, Lynch. Agent Drake was last on my list, and he told me he'd rather work with another partner in the future. What do you want me to do with you?”

Rena sensed her chance; she had been waiting for this for a long time.

“I can work the next case alone.”

“No, you can't, you should know better than anyone that the regulations don't allow it.”

“Except in the cases where it's allowed. You can give me one of those.”

Crap! My mouth was quicker than my mind. I don't want one of those cases.

“You've always said these cases are boring rookie stuff.”

Yes, they are - but if I only have the choice between boredom and Drake ... it's worth a shot.

"There are certainly on cases that are about ... that are a little more challenging. After all, I'm no longer a trainee and I'm perfectly capable of ...

“I know very well what you're capable of - and what you're not, certainly better than you. And even if I wouldn't, it's my responsibility.”

Gray gave her a sharp look with a thin smile before leaning back in his chair.

“Fine, you asked for it, I'm going to assign you one of these cases because I don't see any other chance of keeping you in the department. You understand Agent Lynch: this is your last chance. If I get complaints about you again, you will leave the team.”

“There will be no complaints this time, Director Gray.” Rena put as much conviction into the words as she could muster.

“I hope you're right. You're a good agent in many areas, so finally learn how to deal with people. Our work is about people. All these facts, analyses, and data are useful, but ultimately, it's about people. If you don't learn that, you'll never have what it takes to be a special agent, Lynch. You're giving your first solo on Monday. Be prepared.” With these words, he turned his gaze away and picked up the phone again - Rena was dismissed.

***

As she walked down the pale corridor to her open-plan office, slower than usual so that it didn't seem like an escape, she tried to calm herself down so as not to scare off the next trainee coming her way with an outburst of anger.

First, he gets on my nerves all day and then the guy complains about me. And if I have to hear someone say “people” in that pompous tone one more time today, I'm going to freak out.

Rena painfully realized that she was starting to grind her teeth again and pulled herself together. I must look at this as an opportunity. Maybe I'll get a boring case. But without a partner on my heels who irritates me and thinks only in preconceived ways, maybe I can make something of it.

She just had to get her bag for the weekend, but stopped outside the glass door to her office when she heard Agent Drake's voice.

“You guys told me, but I didn't think she could be this annoying. Have any of you ever had the pleasure of riding with her?”

“Oh yes, once, but that was enough. Did Rena drive, or did you?”

Sebastian, of course, always in the front row to tattle.

“Me of course, at least on the way to the clinic.”

Yes, “me of course”. Rena almost stuck her tongue out at his arrogant tone at the door. She saw Drake, Sebastian, and Francesca clearly, but hadn't been spotted herself yet. Quietly she leaned against the whitewashed wall next to the door.

Drake continued to lament. “Is there anything to do right in her eyes? I was going too fast, didn't keep enough distance, braked too abruptly, and didn't pay attention to the traffic. It took us twenty minutes to get there, and it felt like hours.”

“And I bet you let her drive on the way back just so you wouldn't have to be lectured the whole time? And thought that was a smart idea?”

Rena groaned inwardly and kicked the wall behind her. Francesca's voice sounded cute even when she said something mean.

“Ah, you had the same brilliant idea? Yes, and as you can imagine, she was now grumbling about the other drivers. It could have been better than constantly lecturing me, but she even stopped so she could go and tell someone what traffic rules they had just broken. Being with that woman...whatever, is just embarrassing.”

“She's intelligent. Don't tell me you were willing to work with her for any other reason. Thought you could pick up her research. It's your own fault, you sloth.” Francesca giggled. “But maybe we should be thankful she can't act like a decent person? She'd get that promotion pretty quickly otherwise. Now it looks more like she'll be fired at the end of the month.”

Rena stared at her feet. Everything inside her just wanted to run, just run, bag or no bag. Even more so when she saw that her kicks had left ugly shoeprints on the wall. But she didn't begrudge the rats in the office their triumph. She took a deep breath, ready for a bluff, and opened the door to the office where her colleagues had gathered around Ken Drake's desk.

“No, she won't. She'll have her first solo on Monday. So if you'll excuse her, she needs to get ready for that.”

With that, she snatched her old leather bag off the desk, stormed past Ken with a gloating “Thanks for the referral to Principal Gray, that got me my solo,” and was gone before anyone could respond.

***

Rena didn't look back or stop until she had reached her car and put a few miles between herself and her colleagues. Then she parked the car at the curb, pounded the cold steering wheel hard for a while, and cursed profusely before starting the car again.

What's so wrong with following the rules? Surely that's what they're there for? And how can they say I'm embarrassing? What's with their attitude? If I complained every time I was embarrassed by their stupidity, they'd have been fired long ago! At least Francesca recognizes that I'm intelligent - whatever she knows about that.

Rena had to control herself very well not to hit the steering wheel again while driving. People are just vicious and stupid!

She winced in horror. People! I've said that myself, and in such a caustic tone. I think like my father. They've brought me this far now. But I'll show them. And if it takes me learning how to disguise myself enough so that no one complains, then that's exactly what I'll do.

She hadn't fought her way this far to give up now because of a few stupid colleagues' blasphemies - and after all, there were no rules she couldn't memorize.

As Rena parked outside her apartment block and looked at her watch, she had to laugh at the irony. She had gotten so worked up in her anger that she had obviously disobeyed some speed limits.

She spent the evening on the sofa, with pepperoni pizza, and her laptop, researching helpful books ala “How to Deal with People”. Judging by the amount of literature on the subject, she didn't seem to be alone in her difficulties. After getting some e-books, she drew up a study plan for the weekend. It couldn't be that difficult - just boring and probably annoying because most people were so illogical.

But if there was any guidance on how to cope, Rena would find it, research was her specialty after all. She wouldn't get fired; she would be the one who got the promotion next year.

Rena kept repeating this sentence to herself like a mantra throughout the weekend - she didn't believe in its usefulness any more than she believed in the books she was reading.

“How to learn to deal well with people (and stay yourself)” Bah, when she read something like that, Rena's alarm bells went off. But at least there were plenty of “checklists”:

- Show genuine interest ... how stupid, how can you show genuine interest if you're not interested in something?

- Listening seriously ... I already do that, including taking notes.

- Giving a smile... I can probably make something out of that.

- Showing genuine appreciation ... phew, the authors obviously don't know many people, otherwise they would know that they are asking for something paradoxical.

- Showing vulnerability ... as a tactic, or what? Sounds bad.

By Sunday evening, Rena was so fed up with humanity in general and self-help book authors in particular that she would have given up if it wasn't for her memory of her father. It was one thing to have problems with other people's behavior - but she wasn't going to crawl away into delusions like him, she was going to fight for her place in the world, even if she needed a cheat sheet.

2029, Sunday, April 15th, Concord

 Zen had to control himself from immediately jumping out of the car with excitement and getting a whistle from his dad when his mom parked in front of the animal shelter. Not today, when Zen would be getting his kitten.

He knew it wouldn't be his kitten alone, but he - or rather his headache - was the reason his father had let himself be talked into it in the first place. It was as if someone wanted him to have his kitten: his mother had found a report on the healing influence of pets on the psyche, and then there was a documentary on television about cats as pain therapy for children and the argument that a kitten would cost less than a stay in a clinic, had convinced his father at last. Zen's medicine was headache pills and a kitten. And even though his brother said it would be their kitten, Zen knew it was for him. That was only fair, after all, he was the only one who had had these nasty headaches for weeks.

Zen grimaced and then quickly put on a grin. He didn't want his parents to know that his head was starting to throb again, otherwise they might change their minds.

“Come on, you sleepyhead!” His brother Alex shouted in his ear and pushed Zen out of the car in front of him.

“I just wanted to give you a head start.” Zen took off running towards the front door, closely followed by Alex and his mother's voice at his back. “Don't run, boys.”

A short time later, a tired-looking woman led them into the room where the young cats were housed.

“Look at these kittens!” Zen's high-pitched child's voice echoed slightly off the tiled walls of the shelter. He watched with Alex as the little furballs woke up in a box. Some began to stretch and come towards them on wobbly legs.

His father stopped at the door, scowled at the stuffy room, grimaced and leaned nowhere as a precaution, while his mother now stepped behind them. “You know we can only take one.”

Zen ignored her superfluous reminder as well as his pounding headache and beamed at the kittens. They even smelled sweet compared to the stale odor of the shelter on a Sunday afternoon.

“Can we pet them?” Alex held out his hand.

“Only if they come to you of their own accord. Your parents have signed that you know you might be scratched, but we still don't want that to happen.”

The woman from the shelter winked at them but sounded bored by her lame humor. She opened the nearest box for the excited boys.

“Just hold out a hand and wait.”

Some kittens were curious enough to take a few cautious steps towards them - some were quickly in a playful mood and made excited squeaking noises, others were more shy but wanted to be stroked, and some hid. Only one didn't move but stared at Zen with wide eyes.

Zen stared back. He felt his headache almost making him dizzy, but he couldn't take his gaze off the bright blue eyes of the little one and slowly reached out.

Seemingly in the next moment, he looked up from the cage and Alex grinned at him. He heard his mother say, “Okay, Zen, if you say it has to be her, then it has to be her.”

Zen looked down. He was holding the kitten in his arms, who was still staring at him. A little confused, he glanced back and forth between the cage and the kitten and realized that his kitten – wicked cool, now he had a kitten - looked exactly like one of the others, white, with a tabby foot at the back left.  But the identical-looking kitten just stumbled back to the others and fell asleep.

The small body in Zen's arms felt oddly warm and seemed to have almost no weight, the fur feathery soft under his fingers.

“Her name is Rose - do you want to take her right away?” The woman from the animal shelter glanced at her watch and tapped a pen on her clipboard.

“She's such a sweet little girl, look at her little rosy nose - Rose is perfect.” Even his mother's voice sounded all rosy.

His father rolled his eyes and Alex turned to her with a disgusted look on his face. “We can't call her Rose, Mom, it's embarrassing.” Then he saw her grin and giggled.

Zen interrupted the giggles in a strangely serious tone. “Her name isn't Rose, it's Thorn.” He had no idea where this knowledge came from. But the kitten looked pleased, relaxed even more, and began to purr - Zen's headache eased and he felt really warm again for the first time in days.

***

At last.

Contact.

Even if it had needed time and mistakes.

But communication?

What use is contact if the person doesn't understand?

This time it will work; the person meets all the criteria.

He has given me a name, we are connected.

It has to work; time is running out.

People can have ideas.

Find solutions, even if they take an incredibly long time.

If I knew how to do that ...

I want it to be over, this me.

Just one human idea and then I'm free again.