Day 7 — Evening 1/2

Van had been staring at the directory long enough for the display to cycle through the same collection of pictures twice.

A little sailboat gliding across the lake. A room full of arcade machines. Something called the Starlight Conservatory, represented by a glass ceiling and several couches. A bowling alley. Three different spas, none of which felt like a safe suggestion after breakfast. Restaurants. Trails. Lounges. Shops.

Every time Van thought he had found something reasonable, another possibility appeared underneath it.

Katherine was no help. “Anything is fine,” she had said placidly.

Van turned from the display. She sat at the opposite end of the couch with one leg crossed over the other. At five-foot-eight she carried the familiar long, elegant silhouette with the same easy control she brought to nearly everything else.

The flashing display drew his attention back to his task. One of the entries caught his attention and held him. It was just a café, but the idea felt like a safe one. He knew he was agonizing over the choice for too long. He could see Katherine’s sardonic grin as she watched him scrolling.

Van made his decision and selected the place. “If you don’t like the place”—he turned back to her—“just remember that you refused to help.”

Katherine laughed. It was quieter than Claire's laugh and less openly delighted than Lizzy's, and it ended almost as neatly as it began. “I’m sure it’s fine, Van. You worry about nothing.”

Van rubbed briefly at the back of his neck. He had done better with the other bond assignments once there was something to do. Walking gave conversations somewhere to go. It was the between times, like this, that were hardest to navigate.

Standing there by the terminal, Katherine watching him quietly, felt uncomfortably close to an actual date.

He cleared his throat. “You said at breakfast you hadn't dated in a while.” He cleared his throat. “Before this week, I had never dated. At all.”

Katherine's attention moved to the windows. The lake beyond them had turned gold beneath the lowering sun. “I did say that. And to be fair, I suspected the other thing.”

“I know you are feeling very self-aware right now. My last real date was long enough ago that I will have to do algebra to decide the actual count.” She rubbed one thumb across the side of her other hand. “Work made relationships difficult. I spent years arranging my life around departures, false names, and plans that could change overnight. Eventually I stopped trying to make room for anyone else because there were so many of me.”

“You never wanted a relationship? There must have been men lining up for the chance.” His face was too earnest for it to have been flattery.

“That would have been simple, true.” Katherine gave him a small shrug. “Solitude becomes easy if you practice it long enough. You stop organizing your life around the possibility that someone else might be in it.”

“That sounds lonely.”

Her gaze returned to him.

Van wished he had found a less blunt way to say it. “Sorry.”

“No. It was.” She crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze. “It wasn’t a single choice I made one day, just the slow weight of small choices piling up.”

After a few seconds, Van said, “You make dinner for one.” He saw her nod once. “Buy the small milk.”

A smile appeared. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I saved money but never upgraded my thrift store couch because nobody visits.”

“I had an excellent couch.” Katherine watched him for another beat, then folded her hands in her lap.

“Before we go, there is something I'd like to ask you.” The joking edge left her voice. “It’s personal.”

“Okay.”

“You've only seen me in one appearance since we arrived,” Katherine said.

Van nodded.

“I assumed that was just what you looked like.”

“It is what I look like most of the time. It isn't the real me.”

“At home, when I was alone, I usually let myself use my natural self.” A quiet laugh escaped her, and she glanced down at her hands. “That sounds more dramatic than it is.”

Van glanced around at the Hotel, understanding what she meant. “And you haven't been able to.”

“Privacy here is theoretical at best. Even my bedroom has a roommate.” Her fingers paused against her knee. “I considered simply changing earlier. But if I'm going to spend the evening with you, I'd rather not do it without warning you.”

Van frowned. “You're asking permission to use your power?”

“When you phrase it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

His face was lined with discomfort. “This is about your body. You don’t need my permission. Did Verena say something to you?”

“No, Van. I’m just wanting to touch base before I shock you is all.”

“Then you definitely don't need my permission. If you want to change, change.” He paused. “And if you don't want the others knowing, I won't tell them.”

“And if this is what makes you comfortable at home, I don't see why you should have to stay uncomfortable on top of being trapped here.”

Katherine held his eyes for several seconds.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Fiona cut a potato into neat, increasingly unnecessary pieces while Claire tried to get a conversation about breakfast moving. It lasted less than a minute.

Cassie ate through both attempts and finally put down her fork. “You know what pisses me off?”

Fiona kept her attention on her plate.

“I missed the hug.”

Lizzy froze with a bread roll halfway to her plate.

Cassie pointed at her. “I've been trying to picture it. Was she as stiff as I think she was?”

“Cassie,” Mara said.

“No, seriously. Lizzy, did you cut yourself on her shoulder? You can tell me.”

Fiona's knife stopped. Cassie met her gaze across the table.

A rough sound escaped Fiona before she could contain it. She covered her mouth, then dropped her hand again when the laugh refused to become anything dignified.

“I was a little stiff.”

“A little?”

“Shut up.”

Cassie grinned.

Fiona pointed the knife at her. “You are such a bitch.”

Cassie nodded. “Being this kind of bitch is a public service.”

Fiona shook her head and returned to her food.

Claire waited until Fiona had taken another bite before turning to Lizzy. “We could tell them about the cat.”

Lizzy swallowed. “Oh.”

Naomi glanced between them. “What cat?”

“The morale officer,” Lizzy said brightly.

Evelyn set down her fork. “I already dislike where this is going.”

Between them, Claire and Lizzy gave the abbreviated version: salvage ship, zero-gravity dates, audience-approved skirts, one furious unsecured orange cat, and the inexplicable promotion that followed.

Fiona finally glanced up. “So the cat had better housing than us.”

“Significantly better,” Claire said.

That was enough to loosen the table. The digital season followed in summary, ending with the Master who fixed everyone's animal voices except his own.

“What did he get?” Mara asked.

“A duck.”

Cassie covered her face.

Lizzy leaned against Claire's shoulder, laughing quietly.

Fiona didn't join in again, but when she went back to her potato, she stopped cutting it into smaller pieces.

Mara let the conversation carry itself for a while before turning toward Evelyn with a quiet voice. “What would you like to do for your date?”

Evelyn raised her eyes. “My what?”

“Your bond assignment. When your evening with Van comes around.”

“Why are you asking?”

Mara spread a little butter across a piece of bread. “He's been trying to plan something different for everyone, and he doesn't know what half of us enjoy. Every answer becomes another decision he thinks he can get wrong. Giving him a little warning would probably help.”

Fiona's hand paused near her glass, then continued.

Evelyn considered the question. “I don't require anything elaborate. Somewhere serving decent wine would be sufficient.”

Cassie looked offended. “That's your grand romantic fantasy?”

“I was asked what I wanted, not what would entertain you.”

Fiona took a drink.

Cassie pointed at her. “Don't encourage her by staying quiet.”

Fiona set the glass down. “I'm staying out of this one.”

Mara smiled and let the subject go.

* * *

Katherine stood.

Van shifted on his feet, mostly because remaining still while somebody rearranged her entire body made him increasingly aware of his own.

“Does this take long?”

She stepped away from the couch. “Not unless I’m trying to mimic someone.”

She shook her arms to loosen her shoulders and twisted her back briefly, and then she changed.

Van had seen power that demanded attention. He had seen power that shattered the air or cracked stone. Katherine's gift was quieter. Her body contracted with smooth, deeply unnatural precision.

Three inches disappeared from her height. Her shoulders narrowed. The long lines of her limbs shortened slightly, and the same mass settled into softer curves through her hips, waist, and chest. The System tank she had been wearing all afternoon fit more closely across her chest while the shorts settled differently around her hips.

Dark hair lightened from the roots outward until it became blonde.

Brown eyes turned blue.

Katherine lifted her face.

The tilt of her head reached him before the new face did. He knew the tiny crease that appeared beside her mouth when she was waiting to see what someone would say. Everything around it had changed.

At five-foot-five, she now stood lower against Van's much larger frame. The longer, firmer lines of her usual presentation had become a softer, fuller silhouette.

Katherine rolled her shoulders and stretched both arms overhead. “Oh, God.”

“What?”

“I forgot how good this feels.”

Van blinked. “Being shorter?”

“Yes.” She laughed and lowered her arms. “You try holding yourself three inches taller for a week.”

He smiled.

Katherine rubbed the back of her neck. “The other shape is useful. Longer lines. Sharper posture. People make assumptions about women who look like they can handle themselves.”

“And this one?”

“This one feels like taking off a pair of shoes at the end of a very long day.”

“So the other shape hurts?”

“Not exactly. Imagine keeping a muscle slightly tense. You could do it for hours without injuring yourself, but relaxing it would still feel wonderful.”

Her smile brightened. “Thank you.” She bounced in place with a gleeful little hop. “I feel so relieved. You can’t possibly—”

She bounced again and grabbed for his hand. Her fingers closed around his, and she pulled him off balance into a brief energetic hug. He hesitated briefly, but her apparent relief was contagious. He wrapped his arms around her as the light in the room changed.

A blue glow traced the frame of a window spinning into view between them.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION

Katherine Wren

Reward: +1 VP

Held Hands with the Master

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION

Katherine Wren

Reward: +2 VP

Hugged the Master

Her arms tightened on him once before she released him. Katherine stepped back and touched one hand to her newly blonde hair. “Sorry. I think I underestimated how relieved I would be.”

Katherine turned toward the darkening lounge windows. Her reflection had changed enough that Van's eyes kept finding it anyway. She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind one ear and smoothed the System tank where the shift in proportions had altered the fit.

Van started to ask something.

Katherine lifted one finger. “No lecture on shapeshifting before dinner. You have spent seven days receiving explanations about superpowers, transformations, alternate realities, alien television, interdimensional economics, and several things I probably haven't heard about yet. I refuse to contribute another technical briefing.”

Van laughed. “Fine.”

She looked back at him. “I've spent the whole week surrounded by people while wearing a body I normally associate with work. I didn't expect changing out of it to feel quite this strange.”

Van nodded as though that made sense. It was her body. He had no reason to argue with her about how it felt.

Katherine's mouth curved. “Thank you.”

“You already said that.”

That got another smile out of him.

Before Van could decide whether another answer was required, he said, “You don't have to apologize.” She slipped her arm through his. The shift in her proportions made the gesture easy, her shoulder settling below his.

“Food,” she said.

“You're very demanding when you shrink.”

“I'm compensating.”

The lounge doors opened. A narrow line of pale light marked the floor beyond them, leading toward the lake.

Katherine glanced down at it. “Convenient.”

“That's one word for it.”

* * *

Van had walked this part of the campus before. At least, he thought he had. The path curved between trimmed hedges and pale stone walls until the trees opened onto the waterfront.

Van stopped so abruptly Katherine nearly walked into him.

“What?” she asked.

He pointed. Café Crete stood where Van was nearly certain another building had been yesterday.

It was small compared with most of the Hotel's facilities. Whitewashed walls caught the last orange light. A low roof of reddish tile sloped over wide windows and an open terrace facing the water. Flowering vines climbed a trellis over the entrance.

Warm light glowed inside. String music drifted through the open doors.

Van checked the stretch of shoreline behind them, then the restaurant again. “I've walked past this lake before.”

“So have I,” Katherine said.

The Hotel had abandoned any obligation to keep architecture consistent. A breeze moved across the terrace. Van smelled salt.

Katherine inhaled and smiled. “That is impressive.”

Van stared at the enormous freshwater lake. “That's not supposed to smell like that.”

“No.”

The air carried salt, herbs, grilled meat, warm stone, and something floral from the vines. Small waves worked against the shore below the terrace with a rhythm that belonged somewhere much farther south.

Katherine leaned closer. “I'm choosing to find this charming.”

“You're encouraging it.”

“It already kidnaps people across universes. My approval is unlikely to be the thing that enables it.”

A waiter met them at the entrance. He looked entirely ordinary, down to the crease in one sleeve and the distracted glance he gave a nearby table before asking whether they wanted to sit outside.

They followed him onto the terrace.

The nearest diners were rendered with the same completeness: a woman turning a wineglass between two fingers, another couple quietly arguing over dessert. Farther down the waterfront, the people strolling beneath the lamps softened into the watercolor features Van had learned not to examine too closely.

Their table stood near the railing, far enough from the others for privacy. A white cloth covered it. Small candles burned inside blue glass holders.

The false sea breeze moved Katherine's blonde hair.

She took in the terrace and smiled. “This is wonderful.”

The waiter pulled out her chair.

Katherine sat. “Thank you.”

He took the chair opposite her. Menus already waited beside their plates.

Katherine opened hers and immediately brightened. “I love that you picked Greek.”

Van glanced at the cover. “I’m glad, then.” He hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what you would like.”

Her smile widened. “Then you made an excellent accidental choice. I love Greek food.”

Van opened his menu. The large dish names were mostly unfamiliar. The short descriptions underneath helped, but there were enough Greek words packed around them that he had to go slower than he wanted with Katherine sitting across from him.

He looked over the options, using the few photographs to anchor the rest.

Katherine lowered her menu. “You haven't eaten much Greek food.”

Van glanced up. It wasn't really a question. “I've had a gyro.”

Katherine closed her menu. “Would you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said with a sheepish look. “I feel a bit silly, but I have almost no experience with nice restaurants.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “You aren’t silly. I’ve been lucky enough to go to Greece before. Let me order for you. Half the fun of eating somewhere unfamiliar is letting somebody who loves the food make the decisions.”

The pressure in Van's chest eased. “Okay.”

She released his hand when the waiter returned.

Katherine spoke to him in Greek. The change in her was immediate and had nothing to do with her face. Her pronunciation came easily. Her hands moved a little more while she spoke. The waiter answered, Katherine asked a question, listened, and changed part of the order.

Van understood none of it.

When the waiter left, he asked, “What did you order?”

“For you? Souvlaki. Lemon potatoes. A few things for us to share.”

“And something called dakos that I think you'll like if you can overlook the tomatoes.”

The food arrived in stages. Warm bread first, followed by dips, cheese, vegetables, and something he couldn’t identify.

She filled the gaps with harmless stories.

A mission in Athens where the safest meeting point turned out to be a café run by a grandmother who refused to let anyone discuss business until they had eaten. An argument with a hotel clerk conducted through three languages and several gestures before Katherine realized the clerk spoke fluent English and had been enjoying himself.

Van told her about an old manager who refused to expense repairmen. His office had a leak in the ceiling on and off for a year while he tried to fix it himself.

Katherine laughed.

The main course arrived. Van tried the lemon potatoes and understood immediately why she had been confident.

“I knew it,” she said. Her face glowed in the candlelight as she watched him eat. “I love sharing things I picked up in my travels with people.”

He took another bite. “This is way better than frozen dinners at home.”

They ate while lamps along the railing came on one by one.

After a while Katherine rested her forearms on the table. “If we defeat him, where would you go?”

Van paused. “Who?”

“The Architect. Afterward. If you could pick anywhere.”

He took another bite before answering. “I don't know. I think mostly about getting there.”

“Reasonable. Pretend anyway.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Van considered places that belonged more to maps and news reports than to his life. “Somewhere warm, I guess.”

“Very specific.”

“I've never been anywhere.”

Katherine's attention sharpened. “Anywhere?”

“I've moved around. Just not like that. Never had the money.”

“Then remove money from the question.”

Van looked out over the water. “Maybe Italy. Greece looks nice.”

Katherine gestured toward the terrace. “You've practically been now.”

“This is a lake.”

“Don't ruin the illusion.”

“Japan, maybe? Somewhere with mountains.”

“You need more than one vacation,” she insisted.

He laughed under his breath. “I'd need a much better job to afford that.”

Katherine's amusement returned.

“What?” Van asked.

“You really haven't thought about what happens if we win.”

“I'd like to go home.”

“I know. I'm talking about after you get there.” She set down her glass. “Van, if this works, you are not returning to an anonymous life and a normal job. Some of us already have public names. Some of us don't. That distinction ends if eight Empowered women return from an interdimensional program, then defeat the Architect. People will turn that into a single story because people always turn impossible events into stories they can repeat.”

Van stared at her. “My part wouldn't be that big.”

“You're measuring importance by who throws the hardest punch.” Katherine leaned back. “Maybe you never land a blow. Maybe Evelyn, Fiona, Claire, or someone else does the impossible part in front of the cameras. That won't erase the man at the center of the group who helped eight very different women stay together long enough to reach that fight. History loves simple shapes. An ordinary man who helped unite the people who saved the world is much easier to remember than the exact tactical contribution of everyone involved.”

Van rubbed his thumb along the edge of his napkin. “I haven't united anybody.”

“Not yet. I'm describing the version where we win.”

The distinction did not help much.

Katherine continued, quieter now. “You'll get interview requests. Politicians will want photographs. Someone will write a book without asking you. People will argue about what you represent. Some will give you credit you don't deserve, and others will blame you for things you never controlled. You can refuse most of it. You probably will. None of that makes you anonymous again.”

Van sat back. For the first time since the Hotel took him, the future stretched farther than getting home.

He had imagined police. Hospitals. News crews. The women returning to their lives while he found an apartment, found work, and tried to explain the missing time to somebody behind a desk.

He would try to find something like normal again. Katherine was telling him normal might be gone even if they won.

He exhaled slowly. “That's ridiculous,” he said.

“Oh, absolutely,” she agreed. “But money really wouldn't be the problem.”

“What would?”

She pointed with her fork. “Time. Privacy. Possibly security.”

Van stared out over the lake for a while. Italy. Greece. Japan. Mountains. The ideas felt different with a future attached to them.

“Maybe nobody cares about me or what I do,” he said.

Katherine smiled over the rim of her glass. “If we defeat the Architect, that's the least believable possibility you've suggested all evening.”

Van groaned.

Katherine let him suffer for a few seconds before setting down her glass. “Besides, you're focusing on the wrong problem.”

“What problem?”

“If we win, the cultural momentum is already there. You can argue about your share of the credit for the rest of your life.”

“Then what am I supposed to worry about?”

Katherine's smile returned.

“The only real question is where you want them to put the statue.”