Allison reached out with her new her awareness. On the other side of the heavy front door stood a woman, alone.

You said you would not surrender to them if I gave myself to you! White Shadow’s voice in her head sounded like her own, now.

“No. I said I would not destroy you.”

This woman is dangerous.

“Yes.” Allison said. To her expanded perception there were many women out there, yet only one. Different possibilities played through time, making their mark on the present. The woman wore a t-shirt and jeans, then moments later she was in black leather, then a slinky evening gown with her black hair cascading over one eye. Always her eyes were hard as diamonds.

Allison opened the door to find the woman in a perfectly-pressed military uniform, complete with short, tight olive skirt and shiny black pumps. Time expanded and contracted, as if the universe were breathing, and Allison couldn’t shake the feeling that they had met before — though perhaps it had not happened yet. Allison touched the river of information that flowed around her and tried to sort through it all, flying at light-speed through countless databases, hoping to learn more about the woman standing in front of her. She found… nothing. A palpable nothing, a measurable hole in universe where the woman should have been.

“My name is Lancia,” the woman said, assessing Allison frankly. She didn’t look impressed with what she saw.

“I am Allison.”

“Yes. You will come with me.”

“To the Institute?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as her smile widened. “Of course. There are some old fools there who are quite eager to make your acquaintance.”

“They want to kill me.”

The woman shrugged. “Not if they think they can use you.”

“And you? Do you want to kill me?”

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“What do you want, then?”

The woman paused before answering. “You have something that belongs to me.”

White Shadow is mine, now.

It didn’t feel as if she had spoken aloud, but Lancia laughed softy. “So I see. Think of me as… your mother-in-law. I only want what’s best for my progeny.”

“You created White Shadow?”

“As much as anyone did.” Lancia took a step back from the door. “Shall we?”

Allison touched the communications system of the soldiers outside the house, instantly knowing all they said, all they thought. “There’s a sharpshooter,” she said. “His orders come from someone else.”

“Takenawa?” Lancia asked. Allison nodded. Lancia brought a small walkie-talkie to her mouth and said, “Blue-26.” She didn’t wait for an answer.

Allison felt the shift in the configuration of the men outside. “Ok,” she said, “it’s clear.”

Lancia turned and Allison stepped to follow, only to be brought up short. Between the two women and the cordon at the perimeter of Seiji’s front garden stood three men, bald, dressed in draping orange robes, one very tall, one very short, and between them one of medium height. Allison blinked to confirm they were there. To her new senses, they were completely invisible.

The tall monk laughed, a withered, breathy sound that ended with a wheeze. “Numbers,” he said.

“Too damn many of them,” the middle monk said.

“More than you can count,” the short monk said. He pointed to the communication device that Lancia still held. “Is that an abacus?”

“No,” Lancia said. “This is a restricted area. You are ordered to leave.” She started walking again.

The monks laughed. “Restricted!” the tall one said.

“Area!” The short monk howled, redoubling his laughter.

“Yes it is,” the medium monk said, pointing to Lancia’s comm.

“Is what?” Lancia asked, stopping again.

“An abacus.”

“That’s right!” Allison said, excited to understand the metaphor for once. “It’s an abacus and a radio. A digital computing device and a wireless connection. That’s all.”

The monks abruptly lost all cheer and stared at Allison with hard faces. She swallowed and shied back a half-step. “I mean…”

The tall one spoke, his voice gruff. “That’s all, she says.”

“An abacus,” the short monk grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The medium monk closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He regained his good humor. “Abacus is power,” he said, winking at her.

“Abacus is life,” the short monk said.

“Abacus is death,” the tall monk intoned.

The monks laughed. “But you know that,” the short monk said. “You are abacus.”

“But she doesn’t count!” the tall monk said. His grin was missing several teeth.

“Others count on her,” the short monk said.

“Let’s go,” Lancia said. “These idiots are giving me a headache.”

“It’s not the idiots,” the short monk said.

“It’s what they say!” the middle monk roared. The three laughed heartily and walked away, passing jokes between themselves that Allison could not make out.

“Come on,” Lancia said, snapping Allison’s attention back to the here and now. “Let’s get out of here before the world ends.”

Kaneda woke to the patient rush of waves. He opened his eyes and held up his hand to block the bright sun.

Hello, Kaneda.

“Wh–where am I?”

Where do you want to be?

The sun was warm on his skin. Somewhere nearby he heard the excited squeals of girls playing on the beach. They would be pretty, he was certain. “This is all right,” he said.

Who do you want to be?

“What do you mean? Who are you?”

A shadow fell across his face. He looked up at the girl who had eclipsed the sun. She looked like… “Misumi Mountains!” he exclaimed. He sat up abruptly and twisted to look at the pop star who was standing beside him. Her hands were clasped in front of her. Her tiny bikini did nothing to hide her remarkable, gravity-defying breasts.

“Yes,” she said. Was that a blush coloring her pale cheeks? “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You are more beautiful in person than even on TV!” Kaneda blurted out. He struggled to gain control of his racing heart.

She smiled shyly. “You are too kind.”

Shit shit shit! Don’t blow this, you idiot! “I’m sorry! I was forward!”

She laughed. “You’re sweet. I wonder… may I ask you a favor?” Her eyes were huge and round.

“Anything,” Kaneda choked out, and he meant it.

She knelt in front of him and handed him a bottle of lotion. She turned her back and with a long, slow pull untied the lower string of her bikini top. “Can you put lotion on my back?”

Kaneda’s hands shook so badly he had difficulty opening the bottle of tanning oil. The bottle slipped from his fingers as he squeezed out a portion, landing in the sand with a soft thud, much quieter than the sounds his heart was making. His nose began to bleed. Her skin was soft and flawless, warm under his fingers.

“Your hands are so strong,” Misumi Mountains said as he began to rub the lotion into her skin. Kaneda reminded himself to breathe, wondered if his heart was about to explode. “I could stay like this forever,” she said.

“For… ever,” Kaneda echoed.

Tasuki exercised in the blackness of her cell, alternating between sets of push-ups and lunges. Her body knew the dimensions of her confinement exactly now; she could push off from one dank stone wall and stop herself perfectly on the opposite one.

She was gasping for air, her muscles burned, her heart hammered in her chest, but it was still not enough to stop the voices.

You were the fastest, before the transfer student came.

Kouta was beginning to notice you, before the transfer student came.

You are second. The transfer student will always be first.

Ruchia was your best friend, before the transfer student came.

The last was the most painful. But what can you do? That’s just how transfer students are. And she was never going to meet someone nicer than Allison.

She can afford to be nice. She has everything.

“No…” Tasuki ran circuits of the room as fast as she could, until her feet were pushing against the wall rather than the floor. She looped around the room, faster and faster, climbing higher and higher on the wall. “Allison… did… not… choose… to… be… that… way!” she said with ragged breath.

That doesn’t change anything. The transfer student has taken everything.

No!

You know it’s true.

There was no arguing with the voice. It was right. She ran harder.

Faster, higher, until her foot landed on… nothing. She cried out as her other leg buckled and she hit the wall hard, stars dancing in her eyes as her head glanced off the roughly-hewn stone — and skidded over the top.

Desperate fingers slipped over the sweating stone as she rolled over the top of the wall and fell into the nothingness beyond.

Then, there was nothing but wind.

“Please, Seiji, help us. Help me.”

With every passing moment the woman interrogating him looked more like the pictures he’d seen of his mother. Seiji swallowed and looked into her eyes, trying not to think about how she had pressed his hand to her chest. “I… I…”

“You are concerned for your friend. That’s very noble of you.”

“It’s not that she’s my friend…” Seiji struggled to find the words to express his relationship with Allison. “She’s a transfer student.”

His interrogator nodded, smiling sympathetically. “It’s never simple, with them.”

“It’s just that… that… there has to be someone. The one.”

She nodded. “There always is.”

Seiji raised his hand abruptly, but his gesture was cut short by the manacle that connected him to his cold metal chair. “Exactly!” Too late he realized he’d broken contact with the silk of his interrogator’s blouse.

“And you want to be that someone.”

“What? Are you stupid?! No!”

The interrogator cocked her head. “Really?”

“Oh, jeez, not you, too! Do you understand the special type of hell the Friend of the Transfer Student goes through? It’s not an ordinary hell of pain and suffering, though there’s plenty of that. It’s the humiliation.”

She smiled. “I see. You are a brash denier.”

“WHAT? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! I’m not the one! Kaneda is! He’s seen her underwear!” Instantly Seiji felt sick. Good guys didn’t sell out their friends. Ever. “I mean, did I say Kaneda? I meant Kenzo. Kenzo is the one.”

His interrogator tried without success to hide her surprise. “Kenzo’s back?”

“Apparently. He picked up her books for her on the first day of school.”

“Interesting. And you think that makes him the one?”

“Obviously.”

“The One never chooses to be The One.”

“Yeah, well, I chose long ago not to be the one.”

The woman broke eye contact and looked modestly at the table top. “Your father is a great man.”

Seiji worked to follow the sudden turn in the conversation. “My… wha?”

“Your father. I admire him greatly. Sometimes…” she turned away, blushing. “Sometimes I imagine he is my father.” She turned back to him, her cheeks filled with color. “But then I would be your sister. That would be a awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“…” Seiji struggled for words.

“Your father says I remind him of your mother. That’s not a problem, is it? You wouldn’t feel weird if we… kissed?” Before Seiji could frame an answer she rose and leaned across the table. Her skin was cool and perfect as she brushed her lips against his. Her hand shook slightly as she brushed it across his cheek. “Seiji,” she sighed. In her breath he smelled heaven.

Seiji’s heart was playing his ribs like the xylophone. He was about to pass out but couldn’t inhale.

She bowed her head, her raven hair cascading over his cheeks in luminous waves to conceal her face. “Seiji.” Her voice was barely audible, even this close. “Choose me.”

The blood rushed from his head and went southward, leaving his vision blurred by desire. He wanted to choose her, wanted with all his heart. Or at least with all his dick. “I…” he said. She waited. “I choose…” He was almost there. Just one more word, and he would be free of the transfer student forever. “I choose y—”

An explosion rocked the building, and the lights went out.

In the confusion that followed he thought he heard her say, “Remember your choice, Seiji. My name is Lancia.”

Ruchia walked softly down the center of the deserted street. On either side of her buildings rose, gaping with empty, stupid eyes. Nothing moved; even the newspapers drifted up against the derelict walls lay limp and untouched by any breeze. The click of her heels on the pavement was the only sound.

“Hello?” she asked. “Is there anyone here?” Her timid voice did not carry far.

Motion in the corner of her eye. She wheeled and found a familiar face in an abandoned storefront. “K—”

Kenzo was in front of her now, his finger on her lips. He shook his head. She could drown in those deep violet eyes. He leaned closer. He smelled violet, a beguiling scent that almost made Ruchia forget her own name. “They don’t know I’m here,” he whispered.

“Why…?” Ruchia was having difficulty putting sentences together.

Kenzo laughed silently. “I like explosions,” he said.

The shock wave crashed over her and she took refuge in the tall boy’s arms. She felt the heat of the blast, felt fragments of glass cut into her skin, but she knew that Kenzo would protect her.

Allison hurried to keep up with Lancia as they walked to the waiting helicopter. Lancia faltered for a moment and then increased her pace. “There’s trouble,” she said.

“At the institute?” Allison could see the building on its hilltop at the center of town. It pulsed red with frantic communications.

“Of course. The four horsemen of the moronocalypse have decided to be decisive for once in their lives.” She jumped through the sliding door in the side of the helicopter and turned to grab Allison’s arm to help her aboard. The engine was already winding up and the skids were skittering across the ground as she hauled Allison into the belly of the helicopter. A uniformed soldier slammed the door closed as they rose from the pavement.

“Where’s the fire?” Lancia asked.

Allison realized the woman was looking at her, as if she would know the answer.

And she did. “Detention block C,” Allison said.

Lancia nodded and grabbed the headset off the copilot. She held it to her ear and began barking a string of orders.

I could change those orders, she realized. It was as if all the data in the world passed through her, as if it was her blood.

Wait, White Shadow counseled. She wants you to reveal yourself.

Lancia shot a glance over to Allison, her eyes narrowed, her lips tight. After a long second she returned her attention to her unseen minions at the institute.

The institute is divided, White Shadow said. Or was that her own thought? We shall destroy them.

Seiji shuffled down the hallway, following Kaneda, the only sound to reach his ears the jingling of the chains that bound the two of them. Each was flanked by a large person in a heavy rubber suit. Another rubber man led the way, while a fourth followed behind. The hallway stretched for what seemed like miles, plain white, unbroken by doors or side passages. The floor was cushioned and absorbed the sound of their footsteps, as if to deny they had ever been there, ever even existed.

They walked, stepping in unison, Seiji staring resolutely at the taller boy’s back.

Seiji nearly swallowed his tongue when the claxon sounded, and the man next to him nearly jumped out of his suit. Red flashing lights descended from the ceiling. Distorted shouting filled the air. Over the mayhem the disembodied female voice intoned, “Infection. Alert. Infection. Alert.”

“Damn!” the suited man next to Seiji shouted.

The hallway suddenly boiled with rubber-suited soldiers, roiling from hidden doors like ants from a violated nest. They all shouted incoherent orders through their tinny microphones, while they pushed Seiji to the floor and sat on him, mashing his face into the padded surface.

“Ow, you jerks!” he said, but over the din he couldn’t even hear his own voice.

As suddenly as it began, it was over. The weight was lifted from him and he turned his head to look up. A single suited figure stood over him. “Get up,” his guard said.

Slowly Seiji complied, leaning against the padded wall until his legs could hold him. While he caught his breath he looked up and down the hallway. No sign of any doors. No sign of any other guards. And no sign of Kaneda.

Allison looked around Seiji’s spartan bedroom. “I wouldn’t have taken him for a neat-freak,” she said aloud. Nothing was out of place. Not that there was much to be out of place. Just a low bed and a small chest of drawers holding up a lamp and a digital clock. From one wall a buxom pop star smiled into the room while she held a microphone suggestively. She couldn’t have been more that fourteen, Allison thought, but judging by her boobs she’d be having back trouble by the time she could vote.

“So that’s what he goes for,” she muttered.

There is no time, White Shadow whispered into her head.

“You think time has meaning here?” She asked.

That… doesn’t make sense.

“Yeah? Well, I was quoting you.”

Allison. If you don’t leave here quickly, they will kill you.

“Not if I join them.”

… what?

“You got me into this mess. This whole thing is your fault. You hurt my friends. Why should I listen to you now?”

We can own… everything.

Allison thought for a moment, but ‘everything’ didn’t sound very appealing. “Huh. What else?”

What else!? Everything! There is nothing else!

“I don’t really need everything.”

Anything, then. You can have anything you want.

“Anything?”

Anything.

“Then I want you. I want to own you. I want to control you.”

Through the open window Allison heard men shouting out in the street.

The soldiers will be here soon.

Allison slipped her laptop under Seiji’s futon. “I guess I’d better surrender before they break my friend’s door down,” she said.

Don’t!

“I’m coming out peacefully!” she shouted out the window. The voices on the street paused for a moment, then rose in a cacophony. There was a soft thud against the wall near the window, then another. Allison thought she heard a squeak.

Wait!

“Don’t shoot! I’m not armed!” she called out. There were several more impacts, then a kitten sailed into the room and hit Allison square in the chest. Instinctively she caught it before it fell. The tiny creature dug its claws into her hand and mewled loudly.

“Where did you come from?” she asked it.

“Meeeeew!” it cried, showing all its needle-like kitten teeth.

Allison stroked its sleek black fur, and it began to purr and rub its head against her hand. “Awww… aren’t you something? A flying black kitten.”

They are trying to distract you.

Allison nodded. It seemed a strange ploy, but strange was starting to feel normal. “Thanks for Jet!” she shouted out the window. “But I still intend to come out peacefully!” Quietly she said, “Last chance before I help them destroy you.”

… all right. You win.

Allison caught her breath. This was the moment. “Which means…?”

I am yours. She felt White Shadow’s chagrined smile, quickly replaced by a feeling of unmitigated triumph. And now the world becomes ours. Behold!

The world… shifted. Grew. Changed colors. New dimensions sprouted in her perception, rooted in time and space but transcending them, augmenting them, rendering them moot. The patterns that had teased her before became clear, structure over chaos, built from order. The world was laid bare.

Allison staggered, collapsed on Seiji’s neatly-made bed. She reminded herself to breathe. Her eyes were closed, but she could see… everything. She felt the words of the soldiers outside pass through her, felt their fear and smelled their sweat. They were waiting for something. Someone.

Allison opened her eyes and smiled. The kitten was sitting on her, purring, working its tiny claws in her sweater.

All hail Allison, Queen of all I comprehend.

It was time to get her friends back.

Lancia nodded at the sleek electronic device she held in her hand. “It’s happened,” she said. She silenced he machine with a brush of her red-lacquered fingernail across its screen and slipped it into the pocket of her form-fitting suit jacket. “Take me in. Fast.”

The pilot nodded and pointed the helicopter’s nose at the ground. Lancia smiled. He was trying to frighten her, the poor Y-chromosome-encumbered macho dipshit. It was almost endearing. Below, soldiers scattered like ants fleeing Godzilla. Which wasn’t far from the reality. As the helicopter plummeted she took her bearings of the neighborhood and the house where White Shadow hid.

“That’s Dr. Yamamoto’s house,” she said, betraying surprise. That was going to complicate things.

A voice crackled over the radio. “All units in place! We are prepared to storm the building!”

She keyed her mike and said, “Negative! Do not attack! The subject will come out.”

A burst of static assaulted her ear, then the commander on the ground said, “We have placed a kitten directly in her proximity, but I don’t think—”

“Correct! You do not think! You do what I say! Have more kittens ready, but do not approach the building!”

The helicopter pulled its nose up and landed roughly. Lancia unbuckled and had her door open by the time the skids were on the ground; half a second later her high heels were clicking across the pavement.

Lancia didn’t hesitate at the barricade that had been erected at the top of Dr. Yamamoto’s driveway.

“Sir! It’s not safe!” the colonel called out to her. She smiled and kept walking.

“Nothing worth having is safe,” she said quietly. At the front door she hesitated. What was the right way to introduce herself? She shrugged and punched the doorbell.

As usual, Azusa was the last to arrive at the Council meeting. She slid her lean fencer’s body into her comfy leather chair.

“Good of you to join us,” the leader of the council said. He was cloaked in shadow, and Azusa had difficulty remembering what he looked like.

“Not all of us can drop everything at a moment’s notice,” she said.

“Yes,” the short guy with glasses said. “Why have you assembled us?”

The leader hesitated. “It seemed,” he said, “That we are being neglected. Forgotten, almost.”

“Events have transpired,” the tall, mysterious boy said.

“Events my ass,” said the blonde rich girl. “Are we the ones who wait for things to happen, or are we the ones who make things happen?”

Glasses spoke solemnly. “Some record history. Others make history.”

“Yeah, terrific,” the blonde girl said. “I’m missing a pedicure right now. We better be kicking someone’s ass.”

“Indeed,” the tall, mysterious one said.

The leader cleared his throat. “Of course we are. That’s what we do.”

“So…” the blonde said.

“I’m Azusa,” Azusa said, her voice echoing in the uncomfortable silence.

“What!?” the others asked in unison.

“If we’re going to matter, we should have names,” she said. “My name is Azusa.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, filling the echoing silence of the chamber. “You are a rebel, Azusa,” the leader said. “You overstep.”

“What the hell are you thinking?” the blonde asked.

“I am Iruka,” the mysterious one said.

Nearly simultaneously Glasses said, “I am Narumi.”

The leader wiped his hands over his eyes. “The Greater Powers forbid us from revealing our names.”

“Seriously,” the blonde bitch said, “would you rather be forgotten? I am Hayase.”

The leader sad softly, “It is not likely I will remember your names when next we meet.”

Azusa snorted.

“That’s fine,” Hayase said. “We’ll remind you. Just don’t forget that we exist. We’ll be important eventually.”

“Although, probably not until after White Shadow is defeated,” said Narumi, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“True,” said Azusa. “No sense getting mixed up in that shit.”

Seiji’s interrogator was young, and pretty. She vaguely resembled photographs he had seen of his mother, from long ago, before he had been born, before the accident. She sat across a small metal table from him. His gray metal chair was bolted to the floor, and he was bolted to the chair.

“Seiji,” she said, “I know you don’t trust us, and honestly I don’t blame you. My bosses can be… you know.” Her voice sounded hollow in the barren metal room.

Seiji stared resolutely at the table, not daring to look at her.

“It’s just that, well, this is so important,” she said. “White Shadow has already hurt a lot of people.”

“I don’t know anything,” Seiji said.

“Tell me about the exchange student.”

“I don’t know anything about her,” he grumbled.

“Her name is Allison?”

He nodded.

She patted his arm. “See? You do know something.”

He hazarded a glance at her wide, earnest eyes, and immediately regretted it. “Nothing you don’t know already.”

She laughed. “There’s no telling what you might tell us that will turn out to be an important piece of the puzzle.”

All the more reason to shut up, Seiji thought. “I don’t like being kidnapped,” he said.

This time his interrogator’s hand remained on his arm. “I know,” she said. “This must be difficult. But you were trespassing on an important crime scene. The best way to get through this is to help us out, I promise.” She waited for a pregnant moment for Seiji to respond, then said, “You mentioned telekinetic abilities.”

“I… what?”

“Telekinetic abilities. You mentioned that the transfer student had them. You said she had a limited range.”

Seiji tried to contain a smile. Had they really bought all that?

The interrogator pressed, her voice earnest. “What is the limit of her telekinetic range, Seiji?” She took one of his hands in both of hers. “Seiji? Look at me, Seiji.”

Reluctantly he lifted his gaze from where her hands held his, past her seemingly gratuitous cleavage, to her open, honest face. So much like his mother. He swallowed.

She leaned forward until her breasts were almost touching his hand. “Seiji? Please, we have to know. You could save someone’s life.” She looked nervously at the door to the interrogation chamber and lowered her voice to barely even a whisper, leaning in even farther, until he could feel silk brush his fingers. He had to lean forward to hear her fearful words. “It could be my life you save, Seiji. Please. They are losing patience with me. If I fail…” she choked off a sob and raised her voice. “I know you want to do the right thing,” she said.