Microstory 1973: Team Prime

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Sachs: This one?

Sasho: Magazine latch...

Sachs: And this one?

Sasho: Band axle pin...trigger rod...pusher spring.

Sachs: Ehh...?

Sasho: No! Return spring.

Sachs: There you go. You’re getting better, faster.

Sasho: God, I haven’t used flashcards since the ninth grade. *chuckles* I probably should have used them in college. Maybe then I wouldn’t have flunked out. Hey, you don’t need a degree to be a spotter, do you?

Sachs: Not where we work. If you were to join the military as an officer, then yes, but not just to be a spotter. That’s just a requirement for everybody. I suppose you could be a member of the enlisted forces, but I wouldn’t recommend it. That’s how I started it, and it took a lot of hard work for me to become a sergeant.

Sasho: I’m not seriously thinking about it. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I’m too old to join the military, right?

Sachs: You have a knack for this. Look, a spotter in the military isn’t the same as it is on a tack team. You’ll have a lot more responsibilities out here. In the army, my spotter just spotted. This is an elite squad, and you gotta be able to make up your own rules. You’ll always have a leader, of course, but it’s a far cry from the chain of command.

Sasho: I dunno. Maybe I should just go back to the jail.

Sachs: I can’t tell you what to do, but if I were you, I would pursue this.

Sasho: *nodding* Hey, so I was wondering...

Sachs: You can’t ask me that.

Sasho: No, okay. Sorry.

Ophelia: *through the radio* Team Lead, this is Team One. We have eyes on the target. He’s heading upstairs.

Reese: *through the radio* Team One, this is Team Lead. Hold fast. [...] Team Prime, do you have a visual?

Sachs: No. We can see into the apartment, but not the storefront, or the stairs.

Sasho: *into the radio* Negative, Team Lead. We can’t see the front.

Reese: *through the radio* Okay, Team Alpha, go, go, go. Take him down at his door.

Sasho: What do we do?

Sachs: *closing the bipod* Follow me. We need to get a better vantage point. They’re not gonna make it into the apartment. *leads him down the roof* Wait. You stay here. You’ll see them through that window in five seconds.

Sasho: Team One will be blocking the shot. We have to get across to the other roof.

Sachs: That’s where I’m going. Spot from there.

Sasho: I don’t know how to do that!

Sachs: I believe in you. Just tell me what you see, and where you see it. These rounds can break through the brick. *Hops over the alleyway*

Sasho: He’s gonna shoot through the wall?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 3, 2398

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Guideliner Jacinto Lerse does not have telekinesis so much as he is telekinesis, or at least a form of it. It is so far unclear what he’s going to do for Mateo’s problem, but he and Intentioner Senona Riggur were confident that this would fix it. He wasn’t even the first person that Senona reached out to. There is evidently this whole subculture of empowered immortals who are busy doing their things across the bulk, similar to the network of choosing ones in salmonverse, but on a far grander scale. They are reportedly from the same universe, having the occasion to work together over the aeons. Based on what Leona told them, they have realized that she has actually been to their brane before, though at a much, much, much later point in its timeline than their respective origins.

Jacinto uses his abilities to carry Cheyenne back to the Olimpia, easily ignoring the protests from Zacarias’ soldiers, until the Coronel gives them new orders anyway. They spend one more night on the base, so she can recuperate without traveling. When they get back to the craft, Leona shakes hands with Zacarias, agreeing to keep the discovery of the Nexus a secret. They’re going to tell the rest of the team, but he doesn’t need to know that. Jacinto tells them that they don’t even have to bother turning the vehicle on. He lifts the entire thing into the air with his mind, opens the ceiling up, and flies them over the ocean, back to Kansas City, as if it were nothing more difficult than blowing a mote of dust away.

Once they arrive at the Lofts, their new friend parks the Olimpia in the basement garage. They take the elevator upstairs, expecting to find Mateo in their apartment, the third floor common area, or maybe Marie’s unit. Cheyenne and Bridgette stay up there while Leona takes Jacinto down to the first floor where Alyssa is operating reception. She is presently on a call, so they have to wait until she’s finished with the client. It sounds very important and promising. “You’re back.”

“We’re back,” Leona echoes.

“Was it a fruitful trip?” Alyssa asks, snickering for some reason.

“We’ll see,” Leona replies. “Do you know where he is?”

She rolls her eyes, but quickly tries to backpedal with an awkward blink when she starts to worry that the man’s wife won’t be super okay with that. “He’s on the roof.”

“Alone?”

“He’s never alone,” she assures her.

They get back on the elevator, and head all the way up. Marie is sitting in a folding chair that is holding the door to the outside open. She looks displeased and fatigued, but not angry. “What’s going on?” Leona asks.

“I’ll let him explain in his own words,” Marie answers. She slaps both of her thighs with finality, and stands up. “My shift is over.” She steps into the elevator before the doors close.

Leona leads Jacinto onto the roof where they can see Mateo several meters away. He’s sitting alone in his underwear and one of his vests, a variety bowl of citrus fruit on the table next to him, and he’s covered in juice. Before he notices that they’re even there, he picks up another lemon, and lets it explode all over the place. He glances over his shoulder as they’re giving him a berth. “Oh, hey, you’re back.”

“Looks like you went a little crazy, huh?” Leona asks in a patronizing tone.

“Well, when you can make lemon grenades, how could you not go a little mad?” He spots Jacinto. “Hey, stranger, think fast.” He grabs an orange, and tries to throw it.”

The orange stops in midair, and hangs there. Before the technicolor bulk energy can spread all around, Jacinto uses her power to recede it, and make it disappear. He then telekinetically peels the fruit, brings it up to his mouth, and bites into it. “Too sweet,” he muses.

Mateo is impressed, but not excited, because he hasn’t figured out yet that this is the reason why Jacinto is here. “Cool trick, bro.”

“Do you want to control your new gift, or do you just wanna...stew?”

Mateo grabs a lime, and throws it as high as he can before it too explodes. “I dunno, this is kind of fun.”

Jacinto gives Leona a moderately frustrated look. “I can do nothing without his consent. I’m a diplomat.”

“What exactly can you do?” Leona asks him. “Maybe that will help him agree.”

“I can give people abilities,” Jacinto begins. “And I can restrict them at will. He’ll have a special form of telekinesis called parakinesis. He’ll still have to use his hands, and he’ll only be able to exert as much force as his muscles will allow, but he won’t technically be touching anything. All I need to know is the imminent value, which is—”

“The point at which two objects are close enough to interact, I understand. How would you test that?”

Jacinto holds his palms upward. “With my hands. Stand up,” he requests.

Leona sighs when Mateo just looks at her without doing anything. “At the very least, you’re being rude by remaining seated in the presence of company. Stand up!”

Mateo stands, and looks down at Jacinto’s hands. “I don’t know what happens to the things that I touch, but I’m pretty sure it works on people.”

“Yes, I would also like to know where these objects go, so we’re going to feed two birds with one worm.” He looks between them. “You don’t have that metaphor here?”

“I thought I made it up,” Leona says.

Jacinto shrugs. “Maybe you did.” He faces Mateo. “Come on. You can’t kill me, and I can always come right back here, a second later from your perspective.”

“Okay.” Mateo decides to take a chance. He places his own hands upon Jacinto’s.

“Oh, that’s pretty close,” Jacinto notes as the technicolor energy is spreading over his body. As soon as he disappears, he opens the door from the elevator bay, and comes back to them. “All right. You are sending objects to another universe, and they all appear to be showing up intact. I thought you might want this back, though.” He hands Leona her fusion work, which was one of the first things Mateo transported. It’s good that it’s safe and sound again, out of potentially dangerous hands.

“What happens now?” Mateo asks.

“It’s done.” Jacinto shrugs again. “Pick up another fruit.”

Mateo carefully removes the last grapefruit from the bowl. Nothing happens, it just stays there in his hand. Or rather, it doesn’t. He’s technically not touching anything.

“Would he...theoretically...?”

“Be able to temporarily disable the TK, in case he needs to get rid of something? It could lead to some questionable ethical territory, but you did wish for that, didn’t you? ’Kay, high ten, bruh!” Technicolor energy spreads over him once again after Mateo slaps his hands. “Peter Parker’s uncle and all that! You have heard of Spiderman, ri—?”

Microstory 1836: Sleepkiller

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Sleep and I have always had a very volatile relationship. It’s constantly hiding from me, even though I try to be nice, and always treat it well. I’ve tried everything to connect with it, from not watching TV within a few hours of bedtime, to meditation, to of course pills. Nothing seemed to do me any good. The doctors I talked to said it was insomnia. No der, what do I do about it? Nothing I haven’t tried, just keep trying those things. But stay away from the pills, because they can really mess you up. So I did, and I kept failing. I was miserable, and insufferable. I was fired from my job, not just because they caught me sleeping a time or two, but because I was agitated and ill-mannered to my co-workers. I had had enough. Something had to be done, and I didn’t care any more what the consequences were. So I went back to the pills, but I’m not talking about melatonin, or a tiny little sedative. I went for the big stuff. I was going to fall unconscious every night, whether my body wanted to or not. And if that shaved time off my lifespan, then so be it. It wasn’t like I had much to live for anyway, especially if I couldn’t even function during the day. I knew it was going to be rough, particularly at the start, so I carefully prepared for it. I set three different alarms. My regular alarm clock was set to the highest volume. A friend of mine tinkered with it so it would play the noise and the radio at the same time. My smartwatch vibrated simultaneously, which I always found jarring and annoying. Five minutes later, the television in the living room was programmed to flip on, again at the highest volume. I knew this would piss off my neighbors, which would motivate me to actually get the hell out of bed to unplug it quickly before then. I thought it was a foolproof plan, but I was wrong.

A new personality sometimes took over at night. At first, I didn’t know what was going on. Things were moved around, the refrigerator was open, the floor mat was upside down. I realized that I was sleepwalking. I had heard of that being a side effect, but never thought it would happen to me. Okay, that was okay, I could deal with it. Place a lock on the bedroom door, and line the floor against the walls with pillows. I could still hurt myself, but at least I would land softly if I fell. It didn’t work, as you might imagine. I still found weird things the next morning. Nothing truly bad had happened, though. I didn’t have any stairs, and I never once got in my car, or left the house. I would wake up feeling a little weird and dizzy, but I was otherwise better rested than ever in my life. So I kept taking the drugs, careful not to overdose, and kept just cleaning up my place when I came home from work. I did go through a lot of knives, though. My sleepwalking self had a habit of throwing them away, and always on trash pick-up day, like he periodically felt that it was time to refresh the collection. Again, fortunately, I never hurt myself with them. Then it happened. After all this goofiness, I did something truly terrible, and I still can’t explain it. I did get in my car, and I did leave the house, and I drove onto the highway. Evidently, I came across a horrible car accident, a victim of which I managed to pull from the wreckage. For whatever reason, I scooped her up, drove her to an industrial park, and threw her off the roof of a two-story building. I read about it in the paper the next day, and used my GPS history to put the pieces together. She didn’t die, but she was seriously hurt, and it was all my fault. I can’t live with myself anymore. So I’m back on that roof, but by myself this time, and completely awake. Goodbye forever.

Fervor: The Trinity is a Paradox (Part XII)

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A kind woman is helping me up from the hot pavement of a rooftop parking lot. As I’m trying to recover from the lightshow, I see Jesi running down into the garage, still wearing her hazmat suit, and freaking out a couple walking back to their car. “Should I call the police?” the woman asks me.

“They couldn’t do anything,” I say. “She’s too powerful.” I remember what’s just happened, and scramble away from the woman. “Oh no, get away from me, I’m sick!” I look around, as if it would be possible to see the pathogen spreading through the air, or more ridiculously, that if possible, I could do anything about it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says to me calmly. “We’ll get to a hospital and figure this out. What exactly is it that you think you have?”

“They called it anthrolysis.”

“They, who?”

I can’t answer that question, because I’m determined to keep time travel a better secret, and she picks up on this.

“Everything is going to be all right. I’m Carol Gelen. What’s your name?”

“Paige. Paige Turner.”

This somehow seems to catch her off guard. She reaches into her back pocket, and opens a sheet of paper. “I received this in the mail. Not an email, but the old fogey kind. I thought it was strange that a new bookstore would open after nearly all others have closed in recent years. I couldn’t pass up the offer for one free softcover book to the first fifty people who show up to its grand opening, though.” She hands me the flyer. “I figured it was a prank, because I can’t find a store by that name anywhere. I came back up here to leave.”

“KC Page Turner Book Emporium,” I read. “Jesi, you bitch,” I mutter.

“This wasn’t me.” Jesimula Utkin has appeared next to me. She sounds sincere. “I’m Alt!Jesi, from the other reality. I’ve just learned what this is. The Prestons have it out for this woman’s children.”

“I don’t have children,” Carol corrects her. “I only have a daughter.”

“In this timeline, yes.”

The fear in Carol’s eyes. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, and almost drops it, trembling like a newborn fawn. “Hey Thistle, call Leona.”

“No,” I say out loud, absorbing some of Carol’s fear into my own eyes as she’s confirming that her daughter is still alive. “Please tell me that’s a more common name than I knew.”

Jesi frowned at me. “Technically it’s a different Leona than you know. The one at the Ponce is far older.”

“I saw you teleport,” Carol says to Jesi after hanging up. “I thought I was seeing things when Miss Turner here did it, but obviously not. What is going to happen to my little girl?”

“She will be fine,” Jesi assures her. “Well, maybe that’s not the best word to use, but she will survive, and she’ll become a hero. She meets a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and has two wonderful children. You actually met your grandchildren, as did your late husband, you just didn’t know it.” That was shockingly generous of Jesi to say, and it seems to be helping Carol feel better.

“But I’m still going to die?” Carol asks.

“It’s like it’s already happened,” Jesi confirms

“No,” I say. “We can stop this. Send me back.”

Jesi frowns at me again as she’s taking out her phone. “Okay Thistle, call Ophir.” She waits a second. “Fifi. Emergency evac to KU Med in realtime. One patient. The human.”

“She doesn’t need a hospital; she needs a reset,” I argue.

A man appears, picks Carol up like they’re newlyweds, and disappears again.

“Arcadia and Nerakali are not going to let this go. Mrs. Gelen died in the other timeline, and I don’t deign to understand why she has to die in this one, but I do not question them.”

“How is that possible? You don’t back down.”

“From them, I do. Anything more would be suicide. I’m sorry, Paige, but the only thing  we can do for Patient One right now is keep her comfortable until she dies.”

“At least take her to Doctor Hammer,” I suggest. “She might stand a chance at fixing this.”

“That is precisely why I didn’t involve Hammer. I’m trying to tell you, it’s hopeless. Her fate has been decided.”

Now I’m getting angry. “Yeah, decided by you! You can blame others all you want, but this was your doing, and you will have to live with yourself.”

“Not if I erase my own memories. I can do the same for you.”

“No,” I say, seething. “I wanna remember how much I hate you.”

“I think you’ll one day forgive me. Afterall, I’m the reason you just saved the world. Yes, someone died, but omelettes and eggs, right?”

I’m getting angrier. “People! Are not! Omelettes! Carol was a human bei—is. She is a human being!”

“In this analogy, Carol would be the egg, and humanity would be the—”

“Argh!” I scream. I invoke my memories of watching football with my dad. He doesn’t actually like sports all that much, but gambling on games with the power to vaguely recall the future is how he makes his money. I pull my arms in, and lower my head, so I can barrel right into her, like a...uhh...linebacker? Jesi’s nearly over the edge when a pair of hands tugs me at the waist. She’s still about to fall to her death when a second pair of hands saves her just in time. But it’s the same pair, and both belong to me. Two other versions of me just stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life.

Second!Paige regards Third!Paige with surprise. “In the other timeline,” Third!Paige explains, “you pull First!Paige off of Jesimula, but it’s too late. Jesi ends up tipping over.”

I can’t speak.

“One thing you’ll learn, First,” Third!Paige says to me, “is that sometimes you can change the past, and sometimes you’re just completing a predestined loop.”

I still can’t speak. Part of me is in shock from encountering two other versions of myself, and the rest is still vengeful against Jesimula Utkin.

“The question now,” Second!Paige begins, “is what do we do with the three of us?”

“Easy,” Jesi says. “You have to do a physical blend.”

I finally feel up to joining the bizarre conversation.“What is that?”

“Choosers tend to not like there being alternate versions of themselves running around,” Third!Paige starts, “so they join together, and form a new person.”

“This new person has the combined memories of the originals, which is why I’m not so sure we should do it,” Second!Paige adds. “Both of us remember killing Jesi, and I don’t want you to have to go through that. Besides, blending brains is bad enough, but quantum merging two bodies is said by some to be more painful than childbirth. I’ve never heard of it being done by three people.”

“Irrelevant,” Jesi says. “It’s immoral to remain apart. Jupiter Rosa is the only exception.”

“You’re one to talk,” Second!Paige says to her.

“The other Jesi and I will be quantum merging soon, I promise you that,” Jesi claims.

Third!Paige faced Jesi more straight on. “You should go before a fourth version of us has to come back in time, and save your life again.”

“I have business on the plaza,” Jesi responds, looking at her watch. “Fair warning, I’m only sliding a few minutes into the future. Be here, or be somewhere else.” She forms a temporal bubble, and disappears.

Second!Paige looks at her watch. “We should get going anyway. The rest of the team is going to be worried about her.”

“We can’t show ourselves to them,” Third!Paige reminds her.

“I know,” Second!Paige agrees. “Which means we don’t have long to settle our affairs, and say our goodbyes.”

Both of the other Paiges take sunglasses out of their respective pockets, and place them on their faces, completely in sync, like they practiced it ahead of time. Second!Paige puts on a funny hat. I guess we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, which three triplets at somewhat different ages would do. We climb the stairs in silence. Once we’re back down on the street, I look back up to the roof, and see Jesimula Utkin creepily staring at us. I watch her for a moment, then turn away, and follow myself down the block. The disguises seem to be working, because nobody gives us a second look as we stroll the plaza.

“Why do we have to say goodbye again?” I ask of them.

“Jesi’s right in that we shouldn’t be seen together,” Third!Paige explains, “or interact with each other in the long run. If we’re each to survive independently, then we should do so, well...independently.”

This was sound logic, and I couldn’t figure out how I felt about. These two are me, and I could learn so much from them. They almost feel like my sisters, and I don’t to part from them. But yes, it would be uncomfortable and confusing for our fathers, and I don’t want them dealing with that. It’s already bad enough that I’m now one of their peers.

Second!Paige sighs deeply. “Our biggest hurdle is which of us gets to go back, and which has to go somewhere else?”

“How would you even get there?” Third!Paige asks her.

“I would...” Second!Paige tries to sound like she knows what she’s talking about, “make contact.”

“With whom?”

“Choosers.”

“You know many choosers?”

“Someone could take me there.”

“Someone, like Ophir Adimari?” Third!Paige questions.

“Yeah, maybe,” Second!Paige argues.

“I have something better,” Third!Paige says. She removes what look like two phones from her back pockets. I assume they’re not really phones, though. “I found Ophir after Jesi died by my hand for the second time, and asked him to take me back there. I had spent years not wanting to try to change history again, thinking it would  only end in disaster, knowing that only Asuk could help me through it. Our fathers were great, but I felt such shame every time I looked at them, I couldn’t bear it. Going back to the future helped immensely, but at a terrible price. Ophir, Jesi, Keanu, and all their friends are horrible people, who don’t do anything for free. Ophir wanted too much from me, so I came back to fix it all, but not before I made these.” She hands one device to Second!Paige, and the other to me.

“What are they?” I ask.

“Photos. Hundreds of millions of them,” Third!Paige answers. “There’s one photo for very day of eight thousand years, in a couple hundred strategic locations around the world. It can take you all the way to about five-thousand B.C.E.”

I examine the device itself, without even turning it on. “They all fit on this one thing?”

“That baby holds eight petabytes, and I’ve used almost all of it. For reference, a petabyte is a million gigs.”

“How did you find pictures before the camera was invented?” Second!Paige asked.

Third!Paige smirks. “I used a time traveling camera, that someone else invented. It doesn’t matter, the point is that those are yours. First!Paige, you’ll stay here, and continue your life. Jesi isn’t likely to be done with you, and her friends have their own nefarious projects going on. Keep a lookout. Second!Paige, you can be the one to go see Asuk, and his family. As you know, this is a different timeline, so they won’t have any clue who you are.”

“Where will you go?” Second!Paige asks graciously.

Third!Paige’s smirk grows larger. “Hey Glasses, telescope mode.” The lenses of her sunglasses turn a deeper black. She looks up, and looks around at the sky, until she settles on one point. “How about Tau Ceti?” Then she disappears.

“Did she just go to a different planet?” I ask. “How is that possible? She wasn’t looking at a photo.”

Now Second!Paige smirks as she’s flipping through her camera roll. “You don’t need a photo. You just need to see where you’re going.” She disappears too.

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Microstory 859: Wash Out

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The last thing I expected to find when I went out for what was to become my last day of work as an exterior cleaner was a bunch of people sunbathing on top of a roof. This was no nice and flat roof, by the way. I was at a very steep angle, but they were just lying there, wearing nothing but their smiles. I didn’t see any other ladder around save mine, so I couldn’t figure out how they got up there. Perhaps they did have a ladder at some point, but then someone stole it, and they were taking it in stride. I asked them if I had the right address, and they confirmed that this was exactly where I was meant to be. I asked them if they were going to move, so I could clean it, but they just laughed and stayed put. I called my boss up, and she said all I could do was start my work, and hope they wise up, and get off on their own. I was incredibly uncomfortable doing that with such toxic chemicals, but if I went over to the other side, and started off slow, maybe it would all work out. Before too long, I had stalled long enough, and was drawing dangerously near the sunbathers. As if this was the first time they realized I was even there, they all hopped up as soon as I got too close, and flew away. I was so stunned, I slipped off the roof for the first time in my whole career. Of course, I was perfectly fine, strapped into my harness, so I just hung there for I don’t even know how long. I couldn’t figure out how they had done it. They actually flew. Humans. I had heard rumors that some guy had learned how to fly in his dreams, and managed to bring his lessons into the real world, but like most others, I didn’t believe it could be true. But I’m here to tell you, folks, that it is one hundred percent true, even though I obviously can’t personally prove it to you. I sought out the teacher—my now boss—immediately, and started my lessons. Unfortunately, what we discovered is that not everyone is physiologically capable of flight. We can predict the likelihood of your success, but we need quite a bit of information first. So yes, it is absolutely imperative that you fill out these health histories with perfect accuracy, and go through the rigorous physical assessments. You don’t wanna end up in a chair like me, do you?

Microstory 804: Through the Roof

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The two of us stand on the edge of the roof together. The sun has long set, but is still spilling faint light into the sky. It’s the very end of twilight. There is a light breeze, but nothing strong enough to knock us over. He begins to ask me the same six questions he always does, and I answer each one. I see two cars pass each other on the street below. One swerves towards the other, but catches itself in time, and gets back in line. After it’s passed, the other car swerves away from it in this bizarre delayed reaction. I hear a bird announcing to its flock that it’s time to sleep, or at least that it’s going to bed. I smell the rotting wood of a nearby water tower past its maintenance date, the sweet scent of pastries from a new shop right below called The Night Bakery, and a cigarette butt which someone must have just left up here somewhere just before we arrived. I taste the musky, metallic, sickly environment of a city that should have been torn down a decade ago. He remains silent for the next several minutes, which is unlike him. He’s supposed to ask me the final question, which is what do you know? The truth is that I know very little. He asked me to come up here, as he does every evening. It’s always a different place, and we’re always there for a different reason. Yesterday, we were measuring the height of waves coming up on the beach. The day before that, we threw rocks at people’s windows, only leaving once we’d both broken one, and it had been noticed. Two weeks ago, we popped every tire on some guy’s car, and then the next day, we anonymously delivered that same guy a brand new bicycle. I’ve seen him riding around with a big goofy grin since then, so it looks like we did some good. I can’t remember when I met my boss, or why I agreed to do everything he instructs me, but I always do, and never fail. He calls these tasks experiences, and though I don’t understand what they have to do with anything, or if they’re all part of some complicated grand plan, I enjoy them. I used to be a clerk at an auto mechanic, and never once felt fulfilled until I started doing whatever it is I do now. “What do you know?” he finally asks me, and the spontaneously answer comes to me. It’s always like that; I recite some random fact to him with no explanation for how I know it, as if the asking itself psychically imbued me with the knowledge. “A friend of mine is down there about to ask his crush out on a date.” I thought that would be it, but then something else comes to me. “The Rooftop Slayer’s next victim lives around here.” He sports a toothless smile, and nods. “Which one are we here to do?” I ask. “Help my friend ask out a girl, or stake-out a serial killer?” He just looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I don’t remember what happens next, but I get a call from my mother the next day, telling me my friend has been killed. I immediately call my boss, but he never answers, and I never see him again.