Days turn blue to gray…

Sascha stared out of the tiny window in her cell. Clouds gathered and darkened the sky and she felt today was a special day.
She turned around and her gaze fell on the high-security door just across the room… or cube, as she referred to it. For the last 4 years it was the only space she knew besides the “walks” she had to take in the asylums park. It was a beautiful park for sure if it wasn’t for her being literally imprisoned there.

Her daily dosage of sedatives and medications had been already administered to her but somehow the full effect didn’t deploy today. Instead she felt her just underneath her skin… waiting patiently to be unleashed. It was a long time she felt her… it was a long time she heard from her… it was a long time she felt the urge…

The red light in her cell turned on and almost as if it was a automated process she turned around to face the wall and put her hands on her back. Then she slowly slided into a crouching position with her knees balancing her against the wall. As her head brow settled on the cold wall she spoke out monotonously “Ready when you are, Dr. Silberman”

The door opened with a heavy clacking sound and in stepped two guards and an elderly man in a Doctors apron. He nodded to the guards who proceeded to lay Sascha in chains, making sure that both her hands and her feet didn’t give much space but for little steps to walk. One guard behind her and one guard to her left she started to walk outside of her cell and turned to the left down the hallway which led to the asylums Park.

“No, Ms. Kindler… the other way, please” objected Dr. Silberman and took the lead down the hallway to the right which led to a simple white door – Dr. Silbermans office. Sascha wasn’t sure if yet another year had passed and she was due for her psychological exam but she turned nonetheless and followed Dr. Silberman.

“Take your seat, Ms. Kindler.”, said Dr. Silberman, pronouncing the last syllable as he sat down himself. “You know the procedure, so lets get this started.” He took a small sip of his glass of water and opened a file folder containing Saschas medical history.
“Do you still believe that there is an entity in your subconscious mind, waiting to be released in a blaze of fire?” his voice sounding mockingly.

Sascha knew the procedure all too well and she knew no matter what she said, she could never convince Dr. Silberman of her mental stability. Today it didn’t seem to matter, though. She knew the truth, she felt it.

Dr. Silberman massaged the bridge of his nose, rubbed his forehead, and looked back at the young woman seated in front of him. He snapped the file shut. She remained silent. He slowly shook his head.

"Well, Ms Kindler, it really matters little," he said, "as your delusions are atypical and, as far as I am concerned, untreatable."

He watched her for a reaction to this declaration. When he got none, he sighed.

"Yes, Sascha...after so many years, I may call you Sascha? I have given up on you. You should be functional, but are not; on the other hand you have all the classic symptoms of MPD- Multiple Personaility Disorder- except that you have never manifested this, this 'other personality'."

He rose from his chair, lit a cigarette,watching her closely. He nodded to himself and walked around the desk. He leaned against it.

"I am baffled by you, I must tell you. Fire fixation, pyromania, yet no response whatever to fires set by others. A true pyromaniac would be fascinated by my cigarette. You pay no attention to it whatever. I just...do not know."

He looked at the tip of his cigarette. Crushed it out in the ashtray on his desk. Motioned the orderlies forward, handed off the file to one. He looked at Sascha with something approaching compassion. Was it...pity?

"You are being transferred today, Sascha, to the Institute for the Criminally Insane. Someone has finally noticed that you have become a woman, and we can no longer hold you with other juveniles. The I.C.I is....different. If we were progressing at all with your treatment, I would find a reason to keep you here, but..."

He looked at her for a long moment, then glanced at an orderly and nodded quickly.

"I wish you all the luck, Sascha."

Sascha felt a sting in her shoulder, and turned. The orderly was withdrawing a hypodermic needle. Dr. Silberman had turned, as though she were already gone.

"I'm afraid you will need it."

The orderlies began lifting her out of her chair.

The constant dripping of water on cold stone echoed through Sascha’s mind. Her body ached all over, even breathing felt painful and exhaustive. The cell was dimly lit and she could hear the squeals of rats scurrying around. She felt an odd itching pain on the back of her head and reached with her hand to feel for it and realised that she was shaved bald.

She tried to stand up but the pain in her legs was unbearable. Gritting her teeth she managed to pull herself across the floor to her bed tears running down her cheeks both of frustration and pain. Obviously she was thrown forcefully into the cell and not taken care for where she landed. Bloodstains gave the floor an eerie sense of doom… as if she would never make it out of there alive.

Almost screaming from the pain she managed to drag herself on the bed before she lost consciousness and oblivion darkened her mind.

Visions of flame and fire coursed through her subconscious mind. Fire was virtually everywhere – in space, on the streets and in the darkest corners of her soul. Encircled by lashing flames Sascha tried not to be burned and to her surprise the fire didn’t harm her. The dancing flames slowly formed a face vaguely resembling hers and spoke just one word. "Burn"

Her waking dream, a common one for her, was pleasurable and varied little. The vision of being one with the fire, unconsumed by its heat, came to her daily. At least. This time, as she reveled in its majesty (and took a break from her depressing reality), she had the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

She shook her head, to deny the feeling, but it came stronger than ever. The woman in flames that she saw became stern and looked at Sascha as if to reprimand her for almost dissapating the vision. Sascha basked in her fire, uncaring who may be seeing her.

Without warning, a man walked through the fiery woman of her subconscious. He, too, was bathed in flame, a white hot plasma utterly unlike the flame of her other self. Light crowned his red hair. His green eyes pierced her where she lay. Incongruously, he wore a purple polo shirt untucked over jeans.

Sascha moaned. She tried reflexively to turn away from his stare, but could not.

"Do not fear," he said. His lips did not move, but she heard him speak with her entire body. She fought to respond.

"I- I-"

"Be silent, woman," he said sharply. This time his lips did move, and she only heard him with her ears.

"I do not speak to you," he continued, "you are but the shell. I speak to one yet unborn."

Again, she heard him in her bones, "Be not afraid, beautiful one. I know of your pain, and how unbearable it is for you to be trapped in such a vessel. Soon, very soon, your waiting will be at an end."

He stepped forward, and gently touched his finger to Sascha's forehead. A smile curved his lips.

"I too, know how hard it is to be Chosen."

A clanging sound indicated the imminent opening of the door. Sascha glanced at the door involuntarily. When she looked back, she saw only her cell.

The orderly came in with a tray and his baton. The baton was tipped with two metal prongs, like a miniature cattle prod. Sascha had already felt its sting.

The orderly set the tray on the floor of the cell. He eyed her speculatively, his gaze crawling over the curve of her hip and sliding up to the swell of her breasts. His lips curled in something akin to a smile.

"New girl, huh?" he asked rhetorically, "Well, eat up, new girl. You're gonna be needing your strength, around here."

When Sascha made no move towards the food on the floor, the greasy smile fell from his face.

"Might do you some good to make a friend, too. I can be a good friend to have, new girl like you."

He glanced over his shoulder, out of the cell. Whatever he saw, she saw him decide not to push it right now. He looked back at Sascha.

"You think about it. New girls are only new for so long."

The door clanged shut behind him.

For once Sascha wished she was sedated. The pain was not unbearable but strong enough to impede her movement. She looked at the tray unsure if she should give it a try or puke. Sitting up on her bed which took almost all the strength she had recovered from her unconscious sleep she tried to steady herself gripping the frame under her thighs with her hands. The pictures of her vision were still tangible and the voice of the man had etched itself into her brain right where he touched her head.

Sascha had lost all sense of time but she had found what she was looking for all her life instead. A reason for her misery, for all the years of neglect and abuse. She smiled involuntarily – Dr. Silberman was right after all but did that make her less crazy? She rubbed her forehead trying to get rid of a nagging pain that had settled between her eyes. Staring at the bars she felt exhaustion overwhelm her again and she blissfully fell asleep.



“Time’s up!”, the orderly yelled at her. Sascha felt like she hadn’t slept longer than 5 minutes. Her eyes burned from the light and she couldn’t adjust her focus. Almost blinded she felt two strong and sweaty hands grab her and throw her against a wall ripping her shirt half off her. With a sickening smacking sound she collapsed to the floor. Not yet unconscious from the impact she heard heavy boots approach her.

“Told ya, girls are only new for so long”, the orderly picked her up and twisted her around with relative ease and uncanny skill – as if he was doing this kind of thing a lot. “Meet your new best friend, bitch”, the orderly removed her pants and underwear with a quick jerk. Just as he was about to enter her forcefully Sascha managed to squeeze out of his grip kicking blindly at the orderly’s crotch missing it by a few inches. Surprised by Sascha’s sudden resolve the orderly stumbled backwards while Sascha tried to steady herself against the wall.

“Help!!!”, she yelled from the top of her lungs as she desperately tried to get as much space between her and her tormentor. The orderly recovered quickly and picked up his baton. “It’s a waste of breath, bitch. No one hears you, I’m the only one around.” He smiled wickedly and raised his baton taking good aim at her legs. “This is going to be one hell of a session you’ll never forget, I promise.”

The noonday sun shined in through the mesh on her small window. There was no darkness to hide the act. Sascha lay on her belly on the floor of her cell. Her shirt was ripped, and pulled up to her shoulders. Her pants and underpants were pulled down to her knees. Her cheek was already starting to bruise, but she knew that was the least of her problems.

The orderly pointed the baton at her legs and pressed the stud. An arc of electricity ran between the two prongs at its end.

His lustful expression was warped with rage, and he looked like an inmate of the asylum, instead of a caretaker there. His erection thrust before him like an accusation. His own pants puddled around his ankles, and he walked towards her on his knees.

"Here it comes, bitch. Lesson one, " he panted

He thrust the end of the baton into her calf. Instantly her body went rigid, as 40,000 volts passed through her body. He held the baton there far longer than necessary, then released the stud. She collapsed limply to the floor. He cackled at his success, and lurched forward on his knees.

She couldn't move, her body was incapable of responding. He tossed the baton aside, literally drooling with anticipation. He yanked her pants off the rest of the way, and jerked her behind up into the air, so that she rested on her knees. He leaned over and panted in her ear.

"Oh, oh, oh, and I'm going to enjoy lesson two. Hehn...hehn- I don't think you will, though...hehnheh..." He prepared to enter her as violently as possible.

An explosion rocked the asylum. White light burst through the window, blinding them both. It lasted several seconds, then was gone. Distantly, an alarm began to sound. They both heard the footsteps running down the hallway. The orderly lurched to his feet, his penis wilting quickly.

"Wha-" he began. Wildly, he looked at her. Looked down at himself. He bent, and yanked his pants up. He buckled his belt furiously. He scooped up his baton on his way to the door.

"This ain't over. Not by a long fucking way, it aint." He opened the cell door, went through it. It clanged behind him.

Sascha lay for a long time, tears streaming down her cheeks. She started to giggle, then chuckle. Finally, she rolled onto her back and howled with laughter.

Maybe she was getting crazy. Sascha remained on the floor and looked at the ceiling. She barely felt the cold stone floor or the bruises of her encounter with the ‘caretaker’. Though her body ached all over she couldn’t remove the smile on her face. Her breaths got interrupted by uncontrollable fits of chuckling and laughter. It felt like an out-of-body experience. The same thing people who lay in a coma described. Sascha registered the world around her through an odd haze of dreamy fog. Her movement strangely delayed from the decision to the actually motion.

From the distance she could hear the alarm and the clacking of boots. Something has happened… something that had spared her from getting raped. She wondered if all this was making sense. If the dream she had was connected to this. Her mouth was dry and she bled from her nose but she didn’t cared. The rhythmic sounds around her carried her thoughts away and she remembered a song she heard years ago.

She's not a girl who misses much.
Do do do do do do, oh yeah

She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane.
The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust.

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down.
Down to the bits that I left uptown.
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down.

Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun.

Happiness is a warm gun
(bang, bang, shoot shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun.
Yes it is

Humming its melody she smiled to herself "Yes it is..."

(OOC:Lyrics taken from Tori Amos - Happiness is a warm gun)

The disjointed feeling did not go away. She didn't know how long she sat there, humming and interrupting herself with laughter, but it felt like a cleansing eternity. She rocked back and forth, and hugged her secrets tight.

The vision came to her again. Not suddenly, like usual...it just sort of drifted up. Her other self, wreathed in fire, walked toward her. The air pressure in the room seemed to change when Sascha saw her. The finger pointed. The woman spoke as always, said the only thing Sascha had ever heard her say.

"Burn!"

Sascha thought about it for a moment. While she thought, the door clanged and began to open. Her attacker had returned.

*****

The orderly grinned at the sight of the new girl cowering in the corner. She might have thought he forgot, or was scared. He didn't get scared. Once he saw that the staff was watching the news, all about some satellite, he knew for sure no one would come down here anytime soon.

His lust had cooled, but he felt himself getting hot all over again. He stepped forward.

"Where were we?"

She just looked up at him, a blank expression on her face. He frowned a bit. That wasn't right. She was gonna react to him. He took off his belt, and wrapped the end around his fist. The buckle dangled. He moved closer to her.

*****

Permission, she decided. That is what her other was giving her. Relief flooded her body, and she saw the man standing over her. Over his shoulder, her other self whispered to her.

"burn."

Sascha grinned. She spoke aloud.

"Okay."

Again she felt droplets of water on her skin. It felt alien and her skin didn’t get wet. Instead the droplets which were heralding the rain they’ve been birthed from evaporated the moment they touched her. Reaching for her head images of an inferno and the bright light of the sun flashed through her mind. Sascha tried to focus on her surroundings but only managed to smell something akin to tar.

The images kept disorienting her, as if she was assaulted by flashlights. Eachtime an image burnt into her eyes, the caretaker’s face distorted in agony, melting metal bars and strangely deformed plastic tables. The images seemed to come directly out of a Salvador Dali painting. Sascha didn’t know how she came to her feet and she stumbled around trying to reach out for something to hold on to when she suddenly stopped sobered up by surprise… or was it shock? She stared at her hands which were a crimson red but the color was slowly fading away until it resembled her normal rather pale complexion. Looking around she had difficulties to process what she saw… a huge crater of molten concrete – and she was standing right in the middle of it.

“Oh my god…”, the images flashed again through her mind and as if that wasn’t frightening enough she started to hear voices or screams to be more precise, deathscreams. “It was…”, she couldn’t finish the sentence but the truth dawned on her. She relinquished to the voice in her head and what she saw now was the consequence of it… of losing control. Terrified by the damage she had caused Sascha started to run unaware that her clothes had been burned off her body, too.

Naked, she ran up the road from the asylum. When she reached the top of the hill, she looked back on hell. The devastation was almost half a kilometer wide. The asylum, the grounds, the walls, they were all blasted from the face of the earth. Blackened ground stretched across the valley, dotted with fires that still burned.

She turned back to the road. A sign said:

Falkenberg 14km

Falkenberg? FALKENBERG?!? They’ve actually sent her to the “Karl Bonhoeffer Klinikum” or “Bonnies Ranch” for those who knew what transpired within once you got transferred to it. Sascha felt a strange satisfaction as she looked back at the devastation. She knew she must’ve killed dozens of people – IF it was her doing - but she didn’t feel any remorse.

A car passed by and honked at her and she heard a male voice yelling at her as one of the passengers obviously saw her nakedness. She wasn’t sure if she really understood what he said and decided to don’t bother about it. The ground felt warm and malleable. The asphalt must’ve melted a bit from the intense heat behind her. Knowing that she would be in great trouble if someone found her near the Asylum she ran towards Falkenberg keeping a lookout for any buildings on the road.

Sascha ran like she never ran before. She felt her legs cramping and the pain almost paralysed her but she managed to stay on her feet – then she ran some more. In the distance she could make out a small building and she immediately headed towards it. Her legs were killing her and her lungs almost rattled from the exertion yet instead of collapsing from the strain her body kept her going providing her with enough endorphins and adrenaline.

As she got closer she recognised the building – it was a rest stop, a bit off the road and there were two cars and a truck parked just behind it. Through the windows she could see people sitting at tables and having their coffee or a small snack before they went on with their trip. Deciding against going into the building and causing some major uproar she walked around the building and approached it from the parking lots hiding at the truck and waiting for its driver to come back.

While she was waiting, she heard the sound of a helicoptor. Mentally she subtracted the sound, until she felt the wind whipping her bare skin. The copter landed in the field to the south of the rest stop, at the edge of the parking area. As Sascha watched, two women jumped out of the copter and approached her. One carried a bundle under her arm

"Ms. Kindler?" The one without the bundle shouted above the noise of the helicopter.

Sascha was too dumbfounded to do anything but nod. The woman with the bundle unfurled it to reveal a tee shirt, jeans, and sandals. She gave them to Sascha, who quickly pulled on the clothing. She looked around. People at the rest stop were starting to come towards the copter.

"We want to take you away from here!" the first woman shouted, "Some place safe!" Her German was heavily accented.

"Please," the second one yelled, "won't you come with us? We can help answer your questions!" Her German was similarly flawed.

Sascha hesitated for a moment and looked self consciously to the floor. How could she even assume for one moment that there was a chance to escape? She had but a short glimpse at freedom and she botched the attempt to make it last.

Looking up at the two women she walked slowly towards them both disappointed and angry at herself. Her heartbeat slowed down and the rush she felt slowly subsided. Instantly she felt a throbbing headache which made her stumble and lose her bearings. One of the women had already stepped closer and steadied her putting an arm around her for support.

“I don’t feel so good…”, said Sascha weakly… her skin burned and while her disappointment gave way to the situation her anger remained and increased with each breath she took. She didn’t want to be imprisoned again, she was sick of her life, sick of everything – sick of this world. “If you lie, I swear I kill you all…”, her voice sounded strange to her, as if someone else spoke what she felt like.

The woman smiled and reached out a hand with a pair of pills, and said in her accented German, "These will help." Seeing the look of doubt on Sascha's face she added, "You don't have to take them if you don't want. One is Adrenocillin, and the other is Mox. They will help tame that raging headache you must have right now."

Sascha took the pills in hand but wasn't quite trusting enough to take them just yet. These people seemed pleasant enough, but they might just be taking her to the next hell of an asylum. "Who are you people?"

The woman who had spoken so far nodded as if she had a little difficulty understanding, but then said, "I am Cornelia, and we are with the Aeon Society. We are taking you to a place of safety where you can rest and recover from your recent ordeal. There are others with similar gifts there."

Gifts? Is that what I have? Gifts? Images flashed through her mind again of charred bodies and melting flesh and a crater where a large mental hospital used to be. Maybe it would be good to meet others like her and maybe it wouldn't. Another image flashed in her mind of the one who appeared to her just before... before she became fire. Sascha sat quietly and waited to see what would happen.

The flight took quite a while and eventually the white noise of the rotors and the motion of the helicopter lulled her to sleep. She started awake afraid she might have lost control again, but sighed with relief when she realized it was just the landing jarring her awake. Cornelia and the others aboard looked a little tired as well. I wonder how long I was asleep? A man opened the side door of the helicopter in rather formal attire for a helipad, but didn't say anything, he just helped the ladies down and held the door.

The blonde named Cornelia ducked and led the way toward a large mansion gesturing for Sascha to follow. "We've arrived. This is the place I was telling you about. Come inside, and we will make you comfortable."

This story will continue in the Æon Thread...

Continued from the 'Fiat Lux!' thread...



"Awright then, 'ere we are. I'm getting a spot of petrol, then I'm off for 'ome. 'Bout a mile from 'ere. I 'ope you've somwheres to squat, looks like she's gonna rain on us."

The man opened her door for her. He smiled, and indicated the eatery attached to the petrol station.

"If yer short, I could maybe cough up for a proper tea." He holds out some cash, about 5 pounds.

From the signs, Sascha, realizes that they are in Whitley, about a kilometer and a half from the Reading city limits. It is about 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and sure enough, a light rain is beginning to fall...

Sascha nodded at the man and smiled briefly as she took the offered money. It was hard for her to understand his accent and for a moment she wasn't so sure anymore if she made the right decision.

"Thank you, Mister... I'm not familiar with the area. Maybe there is a train station somewhere close where I can stay and... take the next train? I would like to head further north.", Sascha wiped the strands of hair that tend to fall into her face behind her ear and looked at the man smiling shyly at him.

"Well, ye've got the Earley Station, and the Reading Station. They're both about 3km from here. Reading's bigger, though, so you've got more options, and less of a wait. Reading's north of 'ere, adn Earley's east. Go on. Get some food in ye, I c'n hear your stomach growlin' from 'ere."

He grins and waves as he gets back in his auto.

It looked like she got a lucky break for once. "I can't afford any food. I need this money to buy me a ticket. Would you take me to Reading? That would be really nice of you. I don't know how to make it up for you, though. All I can do is give my thanks."

3km wasn't that far away and she could've walked there but since the rain was starting she hoped the nice british man would make the detour and take her there. From Reading she would try to get on a train that would take her as far as possible to the north, most likely to Scotland. With some luck she could get there by the next day.

The man looked a bit disgruntled for a bit, then looked at the sky, and his watch. He sighed slightly.

"Alright, love, hop on in. It's only a bit of a bother, but the missus will understand, so long as she never sees your beautiful self."

Sascha sighed relieved and gave the man a little kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Mister. And I won't tell anyone if you don't.", she smiled at him and got into the car again.

As they drove Sascha had to admit that she was really relieved that he agreed to take her there. She didn't lie to Peter when she told him that her nightmares were making their way to her waking state. If the man had been rude to her or refused her plea who knows what would've happened? It was as if she saw reality through one eye and a "what-if"-scenario through the other where everything burned in crimson flames.

The car drove down the road and sloped in to the Reading Station as the rain started to get heavier. Sascha scanned the Station for good places to 'squat' like her benefactor said and gave him another kiss on his cheek when he dropped her off.

At the station she tried to move as inconspicuous as possible checking in on the arrival/depart boards to find a suitable train. Her money wouldn't take her very far but maybe she would find someone nice enough to give her some more to buy an extra ticket. Edinburgh sounded like a nice destination. She walked to the gate and sat down on a bench waiting for her train.

A young man sat on the bench next to Sascha. His bags were piled up in front of him. He opened a book and began to read. People were crossing back and forth in front of her, on their way to here, or from there. Announcements were being made on the paging system. Suddenly, Sascha became aware that they were calling her train

"Blue 146 to Edinburgh, now loading at platform 12. All passengers, please check your baggage at platform 12 for Blue 146 to Edinburgh."

Sascha rose to go find platform 12, and she heard behind her:

"Hey, your bag!"

The young man was holding a black duffel bag, decorated with flames along the side, out to her.

Sascha turned around surprised by the voice calling out to her. She looked at the young man, then turned around again to make sure he was talking to her. As she saw him smile at her she came closer to him wondering what he was about.

She looked at the bag then at the young man again and took the offered duffel bag. "Ah... thank you...", she stammered smiling at him. Then she nodded towards the paging system, "That's my train...", she was slowly turning around again but hesitated for a short moment.

The young man went back to his book, Welcome to the Monkey House: A Collection of Short Fiction by Kurt Vonnegut. He waved off her thanks.

On the paging system, Sascha could hear the final call for the train to Edinburgh.

Sascha increased her pace to reach the train her thoughts still with the young man and the book he was reading. Welcome to the Monkey House... how convenient. She didn't believe in coincedence and wondered if she would see him again.

As she boarded the train she felt her skin itch and her vision getting blurry for a moment. Shaking it off she stumbled through the aisle and took the first seat she saw. She felt feverish and breathed intensively. After a few minutes the feeling slowly subsided (ooc: spent 1 WP). She put her bag on the seat right next to her and her eyes remained fixed on the zipper... what if?

She indulged herself and opened the bag...

The train pulls out of the station, heading to Edinburgh and points north. As it gains speed, Sascha pulls the zipper down on the duffel bag. A pair of jeans and a white tee shirt are folded neatly under a CD Walkman. The Walkman has a yellow post-it stuck to it saying, "Play me!" In an interior zippered pocket, there is a German passport with Sascha's picture in the name of Kreszentia Brandt, and £5,000 in £50 notes. In a side pocket, there is copy of Vonnegut's Galápagos.

Sascha took in the content of the bag making sure she didn’t miss anything. The book intrigued her most and she started reading the first pages and found she couldn’t stop. Vonnegut’s style, though difficult at first for her to understand, capture her every attention especially when the stories theme became clearer and clearer.

Sascha barely noticed the porter and just bought a ticket that would take her to Edinburgh without the need to change trains. She had to smile every once in a while and sometimes almost laughed and when she finished the book her thoughts still coursed around its content. She knew that the young man was trying to tell her something. Though the book was a satire it still brought the question if humanity was indeed the pinnacle of creation. Something within her stirred and her eyes fell on the Walkman.

Without hesitation she stood up and took all her belongings with her to the next toilet where she locked herself up. Sascha’s eyes immediately fell on the small mirror in the cabin and she could already see how her face was changing. Within a few seconds Sascha was gone replaced by her furious alter ego Fahrenheit.

Fahrenheit concentrated and attuned the bags content to her quantum signature, making sure it wouldn’t burn if she needed to transform then she took out the walkman and pressed play. As she heard the static of a voice recording she took out the book opened the toilet seat and with a small effort reduced it to ashes as her hand morphed into searing fire leaving no traces back. She made sure to close the seat quickly to avoid any smoke from exiting the cabin.

Lets hear what the young man has to say...

"Hello, Fahrenheit.

Yes, I know your true name.

Hello to you as well, Sascha, although I'm afraid you will be more of a bystander to your life very soon.

First, let me dispense with any mystery. You met a... man. He had fire in his eyes, and he touched your head.

I have met him too, briefly. He spoke to me of you, and asked me to keep you safe. His name is Michael, as mine is Pedro, and yours is Sascha. His true name is Divis Mal, as I am Mathmatician, and you are Fahrenheit.

We have something in common, even more so than those people that you met at Æon. Yes, I know about that as well. I waited until you left there to contact you. Our commonality lies in the fact that we both knew who we were before the Galatea exploded.

I wish to meet you. I understand that you aren't very trusting right now, and I agree that you should not be. We are very rare jewels, you and I. We should talk about what that means.

I will give you time to think on whether or not you wish to meet, then I will contact you again. We are a new race, Fahrenheit, a new people. We are, perhaps the end product of billions of years of evolution. We have a responsibility to ourselves to take that seriously. Think on it.

I will be in touch."

Slowly things were falling in place and Fahrenh