Pt. 081 — Day 9 Morning

Fiona woke with the distinct impression that she had already been awake for several hours. She kept her eyes closed for another second, trying to sort the sensation into something sensible. There had been the bed. Then marble floors and chandeliers. Andy's wedding before that, somehow. A banquet hall full of strangers who spoke to Van like they already knew him. Then the fan mail.

The Master Suite was pale with morning light. Most of the obscene red glow from the previous night had gone out with the lamps. In daylight the room looked less like a dungeon and more like an expensive room someone had vandalized with bad ideas. The mirror still hung over the bed. The restraint bench still sat at the foot. The stripper pole in the other room gleamed with the pink sky dawn.

Van was awake on the far side of the mattress. He was looking at the ceiling, trying not to disturb her. "Morning," he said when he realized she was awake.

"Morning."

Silence returned. It wasn’t hostile but Fiona checked anyway. Van's shoulders were loose against the pillow. No tension in the hands. He seemed tired more than anything else.

Van glanced toward her.

Fiona realized he was doing exactly the same inspection. She narrowed her eyes. "You're checking whether I'm angry."

Van's mouth tightened with guilty recognition. "You were doing it too."

Fiona let out a breath and looked back at the ceiling. "Yeah. This is stupid."

She pushed herself upright. The borrowed sleep shirt slid down from one shoulder before she pulled it back into place. "I don't want to spend the entire morning trying to avoid landmines. If one of us has a problem, we say it like grown ups. Otherwise we get on with the day."

Van sat up on his side and rubbed both hands over his face. "Agreed. I'm tired of policing every word anyway."

Fiona swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pointed toward the bathroom. "You first."

Van started to ask whether she was sure, caught her expression, and thought better of it. He took clean clothes from the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom.

Fiona looked around the room while he dressed. The fox plush from Andy's letter sat beside Van's pillow, two tails spread across the sheets. On the nightstand nearest Fiona rested the other evidence that the fan-mail hall had been real.

Two books, the first had her angry face pasted over the head of a stick figure. The second somehow made the concept worse by adding Van to the cover and suggesting he needed help "taming" her.

When Van came back out several minutes later, dressed in a dark T-shirt and jeans, he caught her still standing over the nightstand.

"You are thinking about taking those with you," he said.

Fiona looked at him. "I'm thinking about throwing them off the balcony."

Van pulled a sweatshirt from the dresser and considered the books. "Leave them here," he suggested. "The Suite seems to be the one place where the Hotel is least likely to let things wander off." He nodded toward the books. "If they get out, they're officially public reading material."

Fiona looked down at the cover again.

Van added, "Also, if you take them outside this room, Cassie will get her hands on them and read them aloud at dinner."

Fiona put the book down immediately with a grunt.

Van nodded. "Good choice."

"Shut up."

He went to the sitting room while she took her turn changing. When she emerged, she had returned to the ordinary Hotel tank and shorts she had been wearing before the bond assignment.

The clothes felt almost aggressively plain after the previous night's clothes, the Master Suite's decor, and the impossible formal wear from Andy's wedding. She pulled her hair back, checked the knot once, and looked toward the books on the nightstand.

"Come on," she said, heading for the door.

—--------------------

Lizzy had both elbows on the breakfast table and was ignoring her plate. Claire was midway through a description of the wedding when Van and Fiona arrived.

"So there were actual gods?" Lizzy asked.

"At least one," Claire said. "Probably more. It got difficult to keep track."

"And the bride had two bodies?"

"One of the brides had two bodies," she corrected sagely.

Lizzy's eyes widened. "I thought your hair was wild."

Claire laughed. "I know, right?"

Across the table, Evelyn continued eating with the controlled calm of someone who had heard the story already and was allowing it to be repeated for effect.

Van pulled out a chair.

Lizzy finally noticed him. "I hate that I missed it. You really only got to bring three people?"

"That was the rule."

She looked between Claire, Evelyn, and Fiona. The disappointment crossed her face plainly enough to cause her to blush. She immediately shook her head. "No, I know. Claire is like a leader in our class so she went so everyone would trust what she saw. Evelyn has been helping you since basically the beginning. And Fiona went because otherwise she wouldn’t believe a word of it."

Fiona sat down. "I want to argue with that, but I really can’t. A lot of what happened was unbelievable and I was there."

Van took the seat beside Fiona. "For what it's worth, I didn't choose how many could come."

“I know." Lizzy reached for her orange juice. "I just would've liked to see it."

Claire leaned toward her. "There was so much public nudity and a really horny gremlin. You’d have lost track of your dress in five minutes."

Lizzy looked wounded. "Then maybe I was spared."

The doors opened hard enough to interrupt the table. Cassie came in like breakfast had been waiting specifically for her entrance.

The first thing Van registered was the color. Pink halter top. Yellow trench. Black denim shorts. Blue low boots. Pink sunglasses pushed over her eyes despite there being no sun in the room. The second thing he registered was that the Hotel had already gotten involved. The yellow trench had retracted into a cropped jacket ending above her waist. The halter hugged her like a second skin, exposing her midriff and more cleavage than the original cut had likely intended. Her shorts rode high on her thighs and fit as though someone had tailored them while she was already wearing them.

Cassie didn’t seem to care. More accurately, she seemed delighted. She hooked both thumbs beneath the shortened edges of the yellow jacket and gave the room a slow turn. "Good morning, kidnapped losers. Some of us have been restored to status as a fashion icon."

Claire's eyes went straight to the halter top. "Those are yours?"

"Mine." Cassie grinned. "From my actual closet. Not issued. Not rented. Not conjured by a pervert with a theme." She dropped into the open chair beside Fiona.

Fiona looked at the halter, then the shorts. "Did they always fit like that?"

Cassie paused. Her hands went to the hem of the jacket. For perhaps two seconds she actually inspected herself. "Huh."

The top should have bothered her. Van could see that much. Cassie's mouth flattened as she tugged once at the snug halter and looked down at how high the shorts had climbed. Then the irritation failed to find traction.

She shrugged. "I look amazing."

Fiona's eyes narrowed slightly, but Cassie was already reaching for toast.

Naomi said, "You seem cheerful."

"I am cheerful. I have personal property again." She took a bite of the toast, “It’s like having a part of my vocabulary restored.”

Katherine sipped her coffee. "And ten new points."

Cassie stopped with the toast halfway back to her mouth. "Before anyone says anything: the whole thing was a hotel escapade it is now a historical event and as such it belongs in a book, not at breakfast. We are moving forward as a civilization with clothes on."

Claire's smile widened. Lizzy tried to hide hers.

Cassie pointed the toast at Lizzy. "That expression is dangerously close to sympathy."

Lizzy raised both hands without answering.

"Smart." Cassie bit the toast a bit too harshly.

Van reached for the eggs.

Cassie's head snapped toward him. "Where's the book about Fiona?"

Van and Fiona looked at each other before either answered.

Cassie's grin grew. "Oh, no. Do not do the synchronized refusal thing. That makes it interesting."

"The books are in the Suite," Van said.

Fiona turned toward him. "Why’d you tell her that?"

"She can't get into the Suite without me.” He crossed his arms, “They’re safe from her there."

"So you think.” Cassie pointed at him with the toast. "Fine. We have other mail problems."

Naomi glanced toward the blue prayer book beside her breakfast. "Some of us had perfectly sincere mail."

"Somebody told you to swear a nudity oath to an Elf goddess."

Naomi lifted her cup. "And somehow the sincerity made it stranger, not less strange."

Claire's fantasy game sat on a side table near the wall, still boxed after the previous night's chaos. Lizzy had already asked twice whether they could play it after the Challenge.

The fan mail had been absurd, invasive, unexpectedly kind, frightening, useful, and impossible to summarize into one opinion.

The doors opened soundlessly to permit Verena to enter. Conversation didn't stop immediately, but it did reorganize itself around her. She wore her usual morning clothes again, dark and immaculate, as though the formal mantle and gold from the fan-mail hall had never existed.

"Good morning," she said.

Cassie pushed her pink glasses up onto her head. "For some of us."

Verena ignored that. "Before you begin your day, we have several administrative matters."

A gold display unfolded above the table.

Fiona muttered, "Of course we do."

Verena raised one hand and the current standings appeared.

EVELYN CROSS — 8 VP — 4,125 BP

CLAIRE MERCER — 10 VP — 3,200 BP

ELIZA QUINN — 13 VP — 3,025 BP

NAOMI HALE — 14 VP — 900 BP

KATHERINE WREN — 7 VP — 100 BP

MARA ELLISON — 10 VP — 4,225 BP

FIONA KAVANAGH — 1 VP — 1,500 BP

CASSIE LIN — 11 VP — 1,800 BP

Cassie stared at her own line. Eleven. The number was real in a way it had not been while she was naked inside Mara's illusion box, trying not to murder reality with her mind.

She leaned back. "That is the stupidest ten points anyone has ever earned. It’s not like it was intentional or anything."

Verena smiled politely. "The system does not judge based on your intention where the master is concerned."

"It should," she grumbled under her breath.

Verena continued. "Ms Lin crossed two milestone thresholds during the correspondence event."

A small rectangular box appeared on the table in front of Cassie. A Hotel phone rested inside. For the first time since Verena entered, Cassie forgot to perform indifference for the crowd.

She picked it up. The screen waking under her thumb.

"The base features should be online; Camera. Text. Talk. Map," Verena said. "Other features are unlockable for a fee in future cycles."

Cassie looked at Claire, then Lizzy, then Naomi and Mara. Claire was already smiling.

"You have also reached personal wardrobe access," Verena said.

Cassie glanced down at the clothes she was already wearing. "Little late."

"Access activates when the milestone is reached. Physical items requiring delivery are normally presented at breakfast."

Cassie considered that, then accepted the distinction with a small nod.

Verena moved on. "Today's morning schedule is divided. Fiona, Claire, and Van will report to the gymnasium. The remaining contestants will attend a session with Professor Dane."

Katherine's coffee paused near her mouth. "Subject?"

"Whatever topic Dr. Dane has selected for the day." Verena folded her hands. "Tomorrow is your first major cycle Challenge."

Lizzy's fingers tightened around her glass.

"The Challenge is designed to move each of you beyond familiar methods and preferred conditions. You should not expect to remain entirely within your comfort zones."

Cassie lowered her new phone. "That is an ominous way to say literally anything."

Verena turned toward Katherine. Katherine set down her coffee before being addressed. "You have until midnight to retrieve the current dossier."

The humor left Katherine's expression.

"If you fail," Verena continued, "a temporary punishment transformation will be applied for the entirety of the next cycle. It will remain active from the next transformation vote until the following Challenge."

Cassie lifted one hand to get Verena’s attention. "I have eleven points now. Can I have dinosaurs yet?"

"No."

Cassie's hand stayed up. "Is there any combination of VP, BP, milestone privileges, or irresponsible reality alteration that changes that answer?"

"Yes, but not at this time,” she said with infuriating calm.

Cassie lowered her hand. "This system has no commitment to customer retention."

Claire laughed into her drink.

Verena allowed the sound to pass. "One final point." The gold standings dissolved. "The correspondence event was unusual. Cross-season contact is normally controlled more tightly than what you experienced."

Katherine tilted her head. "Yet you permitted it."

Verena looked around the table and let the silence stand for a few seconds. "Because your objectives extend beyond this facility, beyond your world, and in certain respects beyond your universe. It is easy, particularly inside an enclosed season, to believe that the only meaningful audience consists of the people at this table and those voting on your transformations."

Her gaze moved from one contestant to the next without lingering. "That isn't true."

Van thought of Andy telling him that the title was a lie and the responsibility was not. Beside Naomi's plate, her thumb traced once along the edge of the prayer book and stopped.

Verena continued. "People you have never met are already observing what you do with power, fear, intimacy, failure, and responsibility. Some of them have survived comparable systems. Some have not. Some may eventually benefit from what you learn here."

Cassie looked down at her phone.

"I allowed the interference because I hoped each of you would learn something useful from people who had no obligation to be gentle with you and no authority to command you."

Fiona gave a small humorless laugh. "That's a hell of a standard."

"Perhaps." Verena stepped away from the table. "Your morning sessions begin in thirty minutes. Good day."

She turned and left and the doors closed obediently behind her.

Cassie stared after her. "I hate the way she talks. I wish I could even process a comeback but I never can when she’s in the room."

Claire reached for her own phone. "Give me yours."

Cassie looked offended. "Buy me dinner first."

"Your phone."

"Duh." Cassie handed it over.

Claire opened the HOTEL HEROINES group chat, added Cassie's number, and returned the device.

Cassie looked at the screen.

HOTEL HEROINES

CLAIRE

LIZZY

NAOMI

MARA

CASSIE

She smiled. "An elite group for sure."

Fiona spread both hands. "Apparently dignity is a points-based service."

Cassie typed a quick message and every phone except Van’s chimed.

CASSIE: I HAVE TECHNOLOGY.

CASSIE: VERENA CANT KEEP THE DINOSAURS FROM ME FOREVER.

Claire laughed as Naomi typed something.

Cassie's phone buzzed.

NAOMI: We are all grieving with you.

Cassie looked across the table at her. Naomi took a sip of tea without changing expression.

The breakfast finally began to break apart.

Katherine left first, carrying her coffee and saying very little. Naomi went with her as far as the corridor before their routes separated. Mara and Lizzy gathered their things for Dane's class. Claire stood and stretched, already dressed in athletic clothes from her own wardrobe. Fiona followed more slowly, still in the Hotel tank and shorts.

Evelyn rose last.

Van watched her take two steps toward the door. "Evelyn."

She stopped.

—--------------------

Evelyn turned in the corridor.

The others had moved far enough ahead that the space around them had cleared. Morning light from the tall windows divided the floor into pale rectangles. Somewhere around the corner Cassie was explaining, loudly, that a phone should qualify as a weapon if thrown hard enough.

Evelyn waited.

Van put both hands into his pockets, then took them back out. "I've been thinking about tonight."

One of Evelyn's eyebrows lifted. "Is this about my age again?"

Van stared for a beat as the corner of her mouth moved. "No."

"Good. I had prepared several increasingly unkind responses." She folded her arms loosely. "Then what unique difficulty has my bond assignment introduced?"

Van exhaled. "Your fame."

That got a different expression. "And your status," he added. "And the fact that you're you."

"An unfortunate condition I have been managing for some time."

He smiled despite the tension. "That's kind of the problem."

Evelyn's amusement faded into attention.

Van looked down the corridor before continuing. "I'm already bad at relaxing around people. You know that."

"I have seen the evidence."

"I can talk to Fiona when she's angry because anger is easy. Cassie yells at me. Lizzy gets embarrassed and says what she's thinking anyway if you give her long enough. Claire tries to act fine, but eventually her hair tells on her."

Evelyn's mouth twitched.

"With you, I keep feeling like I'm in a meeting I didn't prepare for."

"That is not generally how I structure dates."

"I know," He rubbed one thumb over the side of his hand. "At the wedding, I got some advice."

"Andy told me something I haven't stopped thinking about. He said the title is a lie, but the responsibility isn't." Van paused. "Then Matthew's letter said I need to trust all of you enough to believe what you say instead of deciding in advance what you probably need."

"I remember."

"I think I've spent a lot of this week trying so hard not to abuse the position I'm in that sometimes I pretend I don't have one." Van shrugged at himself and kept going. "I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be worthy of the position I am in."

He said it carefully, as though testing whether the sentence made sense without becoming a type of surrender.

After a moment she said, "Define worthy."

"Using what I have without believing it makes me better than anyone. Taking responsibility when my choices matter. Not hiding every preference because I'm afraid somebody might mistake it for an order."

"Reasonable."

"And tonight, I want to try something else." Evelyn waited while he worked out the next sentence in his head first. "I want you to treat me like a regular person."

Van raised one hand. "Not pretend the Hotel isn't real. Not forget what happened to me. I mean stop treating every interaction we have like a formal interview." He grimaced at his own wording. "And I want to treat you like a regular person too."

This time both of her eyebrows lifted. "That may be the more ambitious half of the proposal." She gave him a level look. "What, precisely, am I meant to forget?"

"The company. Oracle. The money. The fact that half the planet knows your face. The fact that you can hear emotions and probably know every time I start panicking before I do."

"I cannot read every emotion at every distance with perfect accuracy," Evelyn said, "but I understand what you mean."

Van shifted his weight. "I think if we're ever going to actually trust each other, we need to be able to do uncomfortable things in front of each other."

Evelyn's expression changed.

Van grimaced. "That sounded worse out loud. I mean uncomfortable like being awkward. Letting something come out wrong. Not correcting every reaction before the other person sees it."

Evelyn's voice went very dry. "I am relieved to learn that your growth plan does not begin with public nudity or interpretive dance."

"I would rather be chained to an Alter." He laughed once, then leaned one shoulder against the wall. "You spend your whole life being someone who can't make a public mistake without people attaching meaning to it. I spend mine backing away from conversations because I'm scared I'll ruin them. I don't want either of us doing that tonight."

For several seconds, Evelyn studied him. Her first instinct was to define terms, boundaries, contingencies. Those were controlled conditions. Van was asking for something messier: permission to see the reaction before she optimized it. "So if I find your behavior foolish, if you say something offensive, or if the date is simply bad, you want me to say so instead of trying to manage it for us both."

"Yes. And if you enjoy yourself, I'd like to know that too."

Evelyn's fingers tightened once against her sleeve. She caught herself arranging her face into neutrality and almost laughed at the timing.

Van noticed the delay and, for once, did not rush to fill it.

Finally Evelyn uncrossed her arms. "I am willing. Provisionally."

Van's shoulders eased. "I suppose that was inevitable."

"I will attempt to be uncomfortable." Evelyn took one step closer, lowering her voice slightly. "Don’t make me regret it."

Van nodded with inappropriate solemnity. "I appreciate the sacrifice."

She walked past him. After three steps she looked back. "For the record, you are also permitted to tell me if I am being intimidating."

Van considered that. "Will it help?"

She gave a tiny smile, "Not usually."

"Then I'll save time."

Evelyn's laugh escaped before she could decide whether to allow it. She kept walking.

Van stood in the corridor for a moment, smiling, then he turned toward the gym.

—--------------------

Claire was stretching beside the indoor track when Fiona walked in.

“ I appreciate you agreeing to this, Claire,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Claire's mouth twitched. “It’s no problem. I almost wore my black and white stripes since you two need so much managing.” She went back to stretching.

Claire bent forward and touched both palms to the floor. Her own workout clothes had come from home: dark athletic leggings, a fitted training top, proper running shoes. Compared with her usual hero gear, the outfit was almost aggressively ordinary.

Fiona had the Hotel tank and shorts. "This is good, by the way," Fiona said. "You being here. I may not have exactly knocked it out of the park the last time I tried figuring him out, and I don't want today turning into a postmortem on the date."

Claire's smile became more careful, but she let the opening pass. "I like working out. It's not a hardship, and I can help you get a second set of eyes on him."

"Good."

Claire moved into a quad stretch. "Also, it'll be nice to have one training session where Alpha isn't here making everything weird."

The side door opened. Alpha came through carrying a small metal toolbox. Claire closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Fiona just stared at the trainer.

Alpha stopped three steps inside. "What?"

The android wore a cropped athletic jacket over a fitted top and shorts that had no obvious relationship to maintenance work. Her pale hair had been pulled into her distinct twin tails. The little toolbox in her hand looked brand new.

Claire pointed at the toolbox. "Please tell me you are here for actual real work and not to just make everyone uncomfortable."

"Of course not." Alpha looked around the gym, found the nearest cable machine, and pointed to it with sudden conviction. "I am here for extremely important preventative maintenance on that."

Claire folded her arms.

Alpha smiled brightly. "Its continued safe operation is very important to me."

The locker-room door opened before either of them could continue the argument. Van came out in running shoes, dark shorts, and a plain gray T-shirt.

Alpha's attention moved to him and stayed there. "Good morning, Master."

Van slowed, "Morning."

Alpha hugged the toolbox against one hip.

Fiona turned away from her on purpose. "Right. We're ignoring that."

"I support your healthy focus on fitness," Alpha said.

Fiona pointed Van toward the center of the floor. "Mirel already established the first problem. You pulled around five hundred pounds with bad technique and no lifting background. I want to know whether the rest of you follows the same pattern."

Van rubbed the back of his neck. "I never thought there was a pattern."

Claire looked at him more carefully. Van was tall, broad through the shoulders and chest, and built in a way that looked obvious enough that nobody had bothered asking how it happened.

"What routine did you have before the Hotel?" she asked. “Like working out I mean?”

"I worked loading docks. And I ran when I had the energy. No program or anything. I'd leave the apartment, run until I was tired, then turn around and run home."

Fiona's mouth tightened. "That explains some of it, but not explain a five-hundred-pound pull from somebody who had to be taught where to put his feet."

Claire nodded. "Especially if you weren't actively training heavy."

"I wasn't." Van looked down at himself. "I assumed it was being young and doing physical work."

Fiona caught the uncertainty that followed and eased off the edge in her voice. "I'm not saying there's something wrong with you. I'm saying we have enough unknowns already, and I don't like finding new ones by accident. Mirel checked strength and basic conditioning. I want to push your limits in every other category."

Van looked at the stopwatch in her hand, considered the wording instead of answering automatically, and nodded. "Okay. I'll push."

A low sound came from the cable machine. Fiona stopped. Alpha had both hands inside the machine's side panel. "Mmm."

Claire looked over. Alpha adjusted something with the screwdriver. Fiona's eyes narrowed. She turned back to Van. "I want to push each category until we see where you actually start falling apart."

Alpha made another soft sound. "Ahh."

Van looked toward her. Alpha did not look up.

Fiona inhaled through her nose. "Speed."

Alpha's shoulders shifted. "Ooh."

"Endurance."

"Mmm."

"Coordination."

Alpha bit her lower lip and gave the weight stack a small experimental tug. "Ah."

Claire's face went red and Fiona shut her eyes.

"Reaction time."

Alpha exhaled slowly and leaned one forearm against the machine. "Oh, Master."

Fiona turned. "Stop that!"

Alpha looked over her shoulder, luminous innocence already arranged across her face.

"Whatever you're doing with that machine, stop. You are making sex noises every time I say something about Van, and I am trying to get something done over here."

Alpha glanced down at the screwdriver. "Maintenance?"

Fiona pointed toward the door. "Go maintain something else. If you keep this up, I'm going to Verena."

Alpha stood and pressed one hand to her chest as though deeply wounded. "Oh, sweetheart. Contestant complaints about staff are ignored. Otherwise some seasons would spend all day filing paperwork."

Fiona stared at her, arms hanging rigid at her sides, trying to decide how to murder the woman and get away with it.

Van spoke from behind Fiona. "What about the Master's complaints?"

Alpha stopped. The change was immediate enough that Claire almost laughed. Alpha turned toward Van slowly. The screwdriver went behind her back. Then the other hand joined it.

She rocked forward slightly on the balls of her feet, shoulders pulled back in a pose that was not subtle about what it did to her chest. "Master."

Van looked tired already.

Alpha widened her eyes. "Do you really want me to stop?"

"Yes," Van said. He met her eyes. "Stop."

For one second Alpha simply looked at him. Then the pout vanished and her smile returned at full strength. "Oh! Of course. You want me to be more private about my feelings so the others don't get jealous."

Van opened his mouth to correct that interpretation, watched her cheerfully cross to the nearby bench, and let it go.

"You never have to worry, Master. I am happy to do anything you ask." She perched on the edge of the bench, knees together and hands folded demurely in her lap.

Fiona looked at Van. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Now can we please get on with this?"

Alpha raised one hand. Fiona's eyes snapped toward her. Alpha pinched thumb and forefinger together and dragged them across her lips like a zipper. She made an exaggerated twisting motion with an imaginary key. Then she tucked the invisible key into her cleavage.

Claire looked away so fast her ponytail swung. Alpha smiled contentedly and said nothing.

Fiona stared at her for three full seconds. "Good enough."

Van gave a helpless laugh.

Fiona pointed at the starting line. "Toes behind the line, please."

Van moved into position.

Claire picked up a second stopwatch. "What's first?"

"Short sprint," Fiona said. "Then repeated intervals. Then we'll see how his coordination holds when he's tired."

Van rolled his shoulders and nodded.

Claire glanced between them. She lifted the stopwatch. "Run hard. Don't pace for the next test. I want these numbers to be your maximum."

Van leaned forward.

Alpha watched from the bench with both hands pressed firmly over her own mouth.

Fiona refused to look. "Ready."

Claire moved to the far end of the lane. "Set."

Van's weight shifted onto the front of his feet.

"Go."

He moved and for the next several minutes, the mystery stopped being theoretical. Van wasn't polished. His start was too upright. He wasted motion in the first few strides. He didn’t know how to drive his arms like a sprinter, and when Fiona corrected his foot placement before the second run, he improved.

Claire met him at the far line after the third sprint. "Again."

Van bent forward with both hands on his knees, breathing hard but not ruined.

Fiona checked the recovery time, then checked it again.

Van noticed. "Tell me whether that face means good or bad."

"It means I don't know yet." Fiona marked the number down. "Which is why we're not stopping."

They moved from the track to agility markers. Fiona laid out cones in a pattern designed to force hard direction changes. Claire demonstrated it once.

Van copied her badly. He clipped a cone with his heel. Alpha made a sympathetic face from the bench. The second attempt was cleaner. The third was much cleaner.

Fiona changed the pattern.

Van swore when she did it.

Fiona gave him a quick, satisfied nod. "Annoyed is useful. We’re not testing memory we're testing reflexes. Run it again."

He gave her a look and started again. Claire began adding a thrown ball and unpredictable hand signals at the end of each change of direction. Left. Right. Drop. Catch.

Van missed the first tossed ball entirely. It bounced off his shoulder.

Van picked it up. "Do it again."

The second time he caught it. The third time Fiona threw instead of Claire. Van caught that too. By the time Fiona stopped the sequence, sweat had darkened the front of his shirt and his breathing had finally become rough enough to satisfy her.

She looked down at the notes she had made. No single result gave her an answer. Fiona tapped the pen once against the page. He was too untrained to explain his body through training, too adaptable to dismiss as simply strong, and too inconsistent to fit any clean idea of hidden athletic mastery. The pieces suggested capacity without history.

Claire read over her shoulder. "He's learning the tests."

"Yeah."

Van straightened slowly. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Fiona looked at him. "Most people improve when you teach them," she said. "I'm trying to figure out how much of this is you improving and how much was already sitting there waiting."

Van took the water bottle Claire offered. He drank, then looked toward the mirrored wall. For a moment he seemed to be studying someone else.

Fiona capped her pen. "Take five then we get back to it."

Van groaned.

Claire smiled. "Don’t be so mysterious and this wouldn’t happen."

Fiona snorted. From the bench came a tiny muffled noise. All three of them turned.

Alpha still had both hands over her mouth, eyes shining. Fiona pointed at her, threat clear in her posture. Alpha nodded vigorously and pointed at her silent lips.

"Five minutes," Fiona repeated.

—--------------------

Professor Mirel Dane had started without them.

Her voice carried into the corridor in the flat, rapid cadence of someone reading material she had already organized in her own head and resented having to slow down for other people.

"...which is why deterministic cognitive modeling is not merely descriptive when applied to Empowered expression, particularly where repeated success reinforces a false operational boundary—"

Cassie stopped outside the door. She looked from Evelyn to Katherine. Katherine looked through the open doorway at the title projected across the front wall.

SYSTEMIC REVIEW OF EMPOWERED EXPRESSION CONSTRAINTS AND THE EFFECT OF DETERMINISTIC COGNITIVE MODELS ON POWER VECTORS

Katherine attempted to read the title before giving up halfway through. "I believe the title is part of a clever torture technique."

Naomi stepped past her. "Maybe it gets better inside."

"It won't," Evelyn predicted as they walked in together.

Mirel stood beside the projection in a dark blouse and slacks, one hand holding a stylus and the other buried in the pocket of her lab coat. Her hair had been pulled back with the approximate care of someone who had remembered it existed halfway through another task.

She never stopped speaking.

"...with particular attention to habituated expression, assumed resource limits, and the tendency of subjects to mistake practiced technique for underlying mechanism. Good, you're here."

Lizzy was still walking to her seat and Mara had not even put her bag down when Mirel started tapping the projection.

A diagram appeared. It contained six boxes, eleven arrows, three Greek letters, and one phrase Cassie was reasonably certain had been invented specifically to insult her.

Cassie remained standing. "No. I know those are technically words, but that slide is an ambush in a labcoat. If the point is that we use our powers wrong, or too narrowly, or whatever, say that before the Greek letters start breeding."

Naomi took her seat. "I agree with the request for translation. You could give the lecture in Latin and be perfectly precise. We still wouldn't understand it."

Mara smiled. "Plain language would help."

Mirel exhaled, looked at the diagram, and turned it off.

"Fine. Plain language: most Empowered people do not know the exact borders of their own abilities. They find methods that work, repeat those methods until they become habits, and eventually stop asking whether a limitation comes from the power itself or from the way they learned to use it."

Cassie dropped into her seat. "See? That sentence I can understand enough to hate properly."

"It is also less precise," Mirel said. "And I am not telling you every limit is imaginary. Some are physical. Some are energetic. Some are neurological. Some are built into the Empowerment itself. If Naomi's power requires contact, optimism will not give it range.”

Naomi nodded. Cassie lifted one hand in acknowledgment.

"Safety conditions, damage thresholds, and resource exhaustion can all be real," Mirel continued. "But Empowered people also add limits of their own."

She tapped the projection again. This time it displayed a simple circle. Inside the circle was a smaller circle. "Your actual capability." She pointed at the larger boundary. Then at the smaller. "Your practiced capability."

Lizzy glanced at Mara.

Mirel saw it. "Ms Quinn."

Lizzy straightened. "Yes?"

"Stand." Mirel gestured toward the open space at the side of the classroom. "Phase your right hand."

Lizzy moved into place and looked down at her hand. Silver-white light softened around her fingers. Her skin became pale and translucent from the wrist forward.

"Left forearm."

Lizzy shifted. The right hand returned solid as her left forearm became ghostlike.

"Right hand and left forearm."

She hesitated, then both changed at once.

Mirel waited.

Lizzy flexed the solid fingers of her left hand and stared at the phased portions.

"Comfortable?"

"Mostly."

"Phase the first two fingers of your right hand and your left foot."

Lizzy blinked and looked down at her shoe. "Why?"

"Because you would not normally choose that combination."

Lizzy's mouth tightened and the silver light altered. Her index and middle fingers went translucent. Her left foot did not. She tried again. This time the shoe and foot flickered, returned, then phased while the rest of her leg remained solid.

Lizzy's balance shifted sharply before she caught herself.

Mirel did not move. "Again."

Lizzy frowned, reset her stance, and tried again. The second attempt was smoother.

"Good. Sit."

Lizzy returned to her chair, examining her hand as though it had betrayed a private agreement.

Mirel faced the class. "Ms Quinn's transformation improved her power. That point matters. Hat Trick increased control, endurance, precision, and the complexity she can maintain. It broadened what she can carry through phase and made several difficult expressions easier. What it did not do was invent partial phasing."

Lizzy rubbed her thumb against her palm. "I could already do pieces sometimes. It was harder, and I didn't like doing it unless I had to. In my head it was still mostly solid or phased."

"What did the in-between feel like?" Mirel asked.

"Wrong. Not painful." Lizzy searched for the shape. "Like crossing your eyes. You can do it, but everything says put it back."

Cassie whispered, "Only Dane could look pleased by that answer."

Mirel glanced at her, then turned back toward the board. "When Ms. Quinn was younger, she needed a simple framework. Solid. Intangible. Safe. Unsafe. Hold. Release. A child with a dangerous power benefits from reliable categories."

Lizzy's expression eased slightly.

"That framework did its job," Mirel continued. "It protected her. It gave her repeatable success. Repeatable success became habit. Habit became expectation."

She drew a line through the smaller circle. "Then expectation began masquerading as law."

Mirel set down the stylus. "A boxer learns a jab. The jab works. She trusts it. Under pressure she throws it more often because it is familiar. Over years, familiarity can become identity. She stops asking what else her body can do because the successful answer is already available."

Mara nodded. "A favorite punch."

"Yes."

Cassie said, "You could've titled the lecture that."

Mirel ignored her. "The boxer still has lots of tools available in a fight, but habit changes the way she fights."

Naomi looked down at her bare hand.

Mirel continued. "Empowered abilities behave similarly. Not universally. Not magically. But often enough that the pattern matters."

She brought the larger circle back onto the display. "Most people discover their abilities under stress. The first version that works becomes the version they practice. Coaches then reinforce what can be taught safely. Agencies build doctrine around repeatable results. Heroes develop reputations around what they do best."

Katherine crossed one leg over the other. "And you believe that pattern still matters after more than thirty years with the same power? I have used mine professionally under conditions where a mistake meant exposure, imprisonment, or death. I'm willing to believe I have blind spots. I'm less willing to believe an afternoon lecture is going to reveal an obvious function I somehow missed."

Mirel leaned one hip against the desk. "It probably won't. Experience gives you more options; it does not make you immune to habit. In your case, the cost of experimentation has been high enough that proven methods had very good reasons to become permanent ones."

Katherine's expression sharpened. "So expertise can make a habit harder to see, not easier."

"Sometimes. Beginners have too few methods. Experts can have too many reasons not to abandon the successful ones." Mirel picked up the stylus again. "I can almost certainly teach you something about your power. I did not say it would happen this afternoon."

Katherine considered that, then inclined her head. "Fair."

Mirel changed the display. Three headings appeared.

PHYSICAL LIMIT

PRACTICED LIMIT

ASSUMED LIMIT

"Your task is to learn the difference."

Cassie frowned. "How?"

"By becoming uncomfortable."

Evelyn's pen stopped briefly as she looked up, searching Dane’s face for a sign that the parallel was intentional. She didn’t find any.

Mirel never even looked at Evelyn. "Uncomfortable." She circled the middle heading. "Do something that feels inefficient."

"Attempt an expression your normal training would discourage because there is an easier method." Another note appeared. "Hold a safe effect longer than your usual stopping point."

Naomi raised a hand. "How do you distinguish 'usual stopping point' from 'the point where continuing becomes dangerous'?" Naomi asked.

"The same way we tested your drain. That is why this is supervised." Mirel looked around the class. "If discomfort is your only evidence that an attempt is dangerous, you do not have enough evidence."

Cassie tapped one fingernail against the desk. "That sentence is going to get somebodies clothes exploded."

"Which is why you will not perform unsupervised plasma experiments," Mirel said. "Your default questions are output and size. Alpha already forced you to learn precision, and your transformation changed how your power interacts with teammates. It means 'how big can I make it' is no longer the only useful question."

Cassie tugged at the cropped yellow jacket. "There goes my Emergency Plasma Dermatologist career." Her eyes returned to the diagram.

Mirel moved on. "Mara. You build complete illusions very well," Mirel said. "During controlled practice, stop doing that."

Mara blinked. "If I'm not building a complete illusion, what am I making?"

"Only enough information to create the response you want. If you want someone to look left, an entire person on the left may be wasted effort."

Mara's gaze drifted toward the floor. "A shadow. Movement at the edge of vision. A flash of light."

"Exactly. Your power is not 'make beautiful false places.' That is something you are exceptionally good at doing with it."

Mara's smile faded into concentration.

Mirel turned to Naomi, who was already braced. "Your problem is almost the reverse," Mirel said. "You spent years trying not to use your power at all."

Naomi looked down at her hand. "Because using it felt like failing to control it."

"Exactly. Suppression was necessary, and it remains useful. Power Valve gave you control you did not have before. Your work now is not to abandon restraint; it is to stop treating every deliberate use as a failure of restraint."

Felix's letter from the night before surfaced without invitation: Being afraid of my power cannot be the same as refusing to use it. Naomi curled her fingers once.

"Under supervision, explore duration, transfer, reserve, and release conditions more deliberately," Mirel said. "Not to prove courage. To produce data."

Naomi nodded. "I can do that."

Mirel moved on. "Evelyn. You have the least useful expression for this exercise. Your powers are already heavily mediated through cognition, and you are accustomed to distinguishing emotional detection, surface material, guarded memory, range, and consent. That makes your habits more visible to you than most. It does not make you free of them."

Cassie perked up. Evelyn lifted one eyebrow. "How flattering."

Mirel picked up the stylus. "Psychics are especially vulnerable to confusing ethical rules with mechanical ones. Refuse a technique for twenty years because it is wrong to use, and eventually 'I should not' can start feeling like 'I cannot.'"

Evelyn's attention sharpened. "You're not suggesting the ethical rule should be broken."

"No. I'm saying you should know which kind of rule you are obeying." Mirel continued. "For today, I am not asking any of you to have a breakthrough."

Cassie raised her hand halfway. "Disappointing."

"I am asking you to identify one expression you avoid because it feels wrong, clumsy, embarrassing, inefficient, or unlike you."

Evelyn's pen slowed on the last two words.

"Then," Mirel said, "you test it safely."

Katherine tapped one finger against her knee. "Unlike you is a dangerous category for a shapeshifter."

"It is a dangerous category for everyone," Mirel said. "Identity is useful. It organizes behavior. So does habit. So does doctrine. None of them should be confused with physics."

Evelyn looked at the words on the screen without reading them. You need the ability to do uncomfortable things in front of each other. She had agreed. Provisionally. "Uncomfortable seems to be the theme of the day," she said before realizing she had spoken aloud.

Mirel clicked the stylus and continued as though nothing had happened. The next slide appeared.

PRACTICUM DESIGN: SAFE DEVIATION FROM HABITUATED EXPRESSION

Cassie groaned. "You made the subtitle worse."

Mirel did not dignify that with an answer. She began outlining the exercise, saying, "The point is not to lose control. The point is to discover which parts of your control are choices."