The world is a prism of blue lines. Stretching outwards from my feet to form walls and floors and the outline of Sanmarie, something long and narrow in her hands, tapering at the end.
A blade.
"I told you not to come." I study my hands, blue and angular in the light of my prismed eyes. All the king's assassins have it done during early training. It might turn the world into a mess of cerulean streaks, but it means we can see through walls, see the world in a cold unfeeling way. No color. No light or shadow, no depth. Just lines crossing and intersecting.
Sanmarie holds it out to me. "There are no choices, Allesin. Not for people like us."
I take the sword, and I can feel its cold weight in my hands, as incorporeal as it may appear. She is right. I do my duty, leave the thinking to others. The king commands me and I do his bidding. What else is there?
I keep along the hall, paying little mind to the people moving about in other rooms around me. My path leads to one room only.
I can see him before I open the door, sitting at his desk, hands moving over a paper with a quill in his hand. Ellend, advisor to the King.
Only he began making deals with the ambassadors of the neighboring kingdom, going behind the king's back in ways I don't fully understand.
But that doesn't matter. I don't need to understand. I just need to do my job.
My hand finds the door handle, and I twist it open, stepping into his rooms.
He looks up, turns. "Good afternoon, Sir Allesin. Can I help you with something?"
The moment stretches, lingering long past the time when I should have acted as my eyes meet his, lifeless blue spheres in a web of lines. "King Montral charges you with high treason." My voice wavers and I will strength into it. I must not show weakness.
Suddenly he seems to realize that I'm not here for a social call. He backs against the desk, rummaging for a knife. It doesn't matter. It would take far more than a knife to stop me.
That is a lie, because his next words cause me to falter.
"I had a daughter, once." He is staring straight ahead, and I wish I could see the emotion in his face. The sorrow in his eyes. "But they took her. For ransom. They told me I would never see her again unless I gave them a hundred thousand royales." I might not be able to see his pain, but I can feel it, hovering in the air between us, thick and solid as glass. "I did what I could. Whatever it took. If you kill me now it does not matter, because she is already free. Even if I never see her again, never hear her laugh or see her smile, it will have been worth it, to free her."
But when I raise my sword he cringes back, a man in love with the world, a man who clings to life and does not wish to give it up.
I was like that, once.
And now who are you? A weapon. I am naught but a blade held in the hand of the king, cold and unfeeling and devoid of warmth.
But not devoid of choice. Unlike a blade, I have free will. Only does that truly matter, when the only other option is the one that ends with me dead instead? Surely the king will not tolerate disobedience.
Ellend watches me, eyes fixed on the sword in my hand, halfway angled towards him. "I know you were made for this purpose, wrought like steel in the image of a deathbringer. But this is not the only option. I have connections. If you wish to leave this place. . . that can be arranged."
Leave this place. Is that what I want, truly? To go, to be my own man in a world not bound by the whims of others? To be free?
But what does free even mean, to someone like me? I cast the idea from myself. This is my life, my world. Leaving will not change who I am.
And yet I cannot find the will to strike. To end the life of a man with good intentions, however right or wrong his actions may have been.
"I have friends." He says again. "I can help you."
"Help yourself." I cast the blade aside and turn to go. "If you're to leave here you'll need all of that you can get."
"You're. . . you're letting me go?"
I do not look back. "Don't expect it to happen again. I am just a weapon, after all. But even weapons sometimes break or falter. Do not let them see you and do not return to this place."
"Thank you." He departs, leaving me staring down at the blue strands in my hand.
I drop the sword to the floor and even though I can see through it, the blade embeds itself in the boards, quivering with the impact.
And I look up, towards the sky I cannot see, and wonder if Sanmarie was wrong, after all.
Maybe there is always a choice. We just have to be brave enough to take it.

“I think she’s waking up. Get the doctor in here!” 

“AJ? AJ? Can you hear me?”

The voices in the room sound like they’re underwater and everything looks dark and foggy, but I see some bright lights and I slowly squint my eyes open so as to not let all the light in at once.

“She’s awake! Thank heavens!”

“AJ, do you know why you’re in the hospital? Do you know what year it is?” There’s a man standing above me with a stethoscope around his neck. I try to respond but my throat is too dry.

“Water…”

“Get her some water, Doug!” The voice that sounds like my mom shrieks. I can hear her but the doctor is blocking my view. 

A cup of water is handed to me and I sip gingerly from it. Then I look at the doctor. “Are you a real doctor or a ghost doctor?”

“AJ! That’s so rude.” My mom admonishes me. 

“I can assure you I’m real, the doctor chuckles. After all, your parents can see me too.” 

I squeeze my eyes shut and fall back onto the pillow. It didn’t work! 

“AJ, can you answer my questions now? Do you know why you’re here? What year is it?”

“2020…6?” The doctor nods encouragingly. “I think I fell?”

“AJ! You fell down the stairs and have been unconscious for three days. I told you not to go up to the attic because there was a broken step. But did you listen?” 

“I must not have remembered, Mom.” 

What my mom doesn’t know is that I did remember and was trying to find a way to see ghosts. I’ve been obsessed with the TV show Ghosts and after Sam fell down the stairs, she was able to see the ghosts in her house. I wanted to see the ghosts in my house, but so far I don’t think the plan has worked. Everyone in this room is real. I know there must be ghosts in our house, since it’s super old, like from the nineteen-forties. It just feels like a boring house now that I know the possibilities are there and I have no access to them. I really, really want to see at least one ghost. I wouldn’t mind a hot one like Trevor. Or Thorfinn. I’d settle for someone fun like Flower though. Maybe no one died in my hospital room and that’s why I can’t see anyone yet. Maybe…there will be a ghost in the house when I get home. 

“I think we should let her rest, Polly. We can come back tomorrow morning and maybe she’ll be ready to be discharged by then.”

“Sleep tight honey, and we’ll get that stair fixed so this never happens again.” 

I nod and smile, letting my eyes close again in hopes of getting one day closer to seeing ghosts when I’m finally able to go back home.

The next afternoon, I’m finally free to leave. As I get wheeled out of the hospital, I look around to see if anyone there looks like they could be a ghost. So far, I can’t tell with so many people walking around the hallways and lobby. They all look pretty modern, but maybe some of them died recently. Or maybe the only ghosts I’m able to see are the ones in my house. 

When we get home, my mom offers to make me some soup and I take her up on that. If she’s cooking, she won’t see me checking for ghosts in the house. 

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady? You should be resting in bed. Doctor’s orders for the next twenty-four hours. I’ll bring the soup upstairs when it’s ready.”

“I need to stretch my legs though. I’ve been laying in bed for three days, apparently. My legs will stop working if I don’t walk around a bit.”

“That’s nonsense. You just need to rest for one more day and then you can be up and about again.”

“Ugh! Fine. Can you bring up my laptop so I can watch some shows, at least? I think I’ve slept enough.”

“I’ll have your dad bring it up soon.”

I settle into my room and put on my comfiest pajamas. Then I start searching in the closet, under the bed, behind the drapes, and anywhere else a ghost might be hiding, waiting to make their presence known. No sign of anyone by the time my mom arrives with the soup. 

“What are you looking for?”

“I thought I lost an earring.”

“You’re wearing your earrings. Now get into bed.” 

After I have some delicious homemade chicken soup, I turn on my laptop and put Ghosts on. Maybe this will lure the ones in my house out of hiding as I still haven’t seen any yet. I laugh my way through a few episodes before calling it quits because my eyes don’t want to stay open anymore. Maybe when everyone else goes to bed, a ghost will come out of hiding and visit me. 

It’s three in the morning and while I’ve heard some usual household creaks and groans, there hasn’t been any sign of someone who died in this house and didn’t get to move on. I whisper, as to not wake my parents. “Is anyone here who is not currently alive? I am nice and won’t hurt you. It’s safe to come out.” I look at the clock as the minutes tick by without any ghosts showing up. I finally give up for the night and go back to sleep.

“Mortimer, she’ll never be able to see us. We need to try some new tactics.”

“Loretta, I don’t know what else we can do. Clearly breaking that stair by the attic didn’t work.” 

“Well, we don’t want her to see us by becoming a ghost herself. Then she won’t be able to do anything for us and we’ve seen how useful the girl on that colorful little screen is…”

Coruscencia | 34th Planet, Whirlpool Galaxy
Always twilight, never high noon, never dark night.
The place is pretty enough. In the distance, jagged edges of mountain extend stubby fingers to the orb above us. This planet's moon is quite large, reflecting sufficient light to bathe the valley in soft, purple hues.
There's a river that cuts through the field. It pulsates with life, the aqua blue brightening and dimming as if the water were a gentle heartbeat. Perhaps symbolically it is. The source of biological possibility that flows in this remote land.
None of this thrills me anymore. I have a job to do and they paired me with Sheloa again.
I think he's catching on.
"See 'em, wah?" Sheloa says.
I grunt. There. He won't be able to say that I lied.
"Beauty, wah?"
"Let's just get to work," I say. "We'll split up. Easier if we harvest from different areas."
He turns to me in that clunky, graceless way of his. The only thing I can see in his helmet is the mirrored image of my own. Reading his face is a non-option.
"Boss say together, wah?"
"Boss wants a big harvest. We'll do that better without tripping over each other. If you want to stay in this area, that's fine. I'll go farther down into the valley."
I don't wait for him to protest. Instead, I push past him and take one heavy step after another down the hill. Gravity's a quarter heavier here so we can work for about an hour before the blood starts to pool in our feet. Less for me actually. I don't have Sheloa's genetic makeup and after years of doing this, my body is starting to show the strain.
I look back over at Sheloa. He has already laid out his quasma nets like I showed him. When I'm persuaded that his attention is given to the task, I turn so that my back faces Sheloa. I drop to one knee and fish through my pockets for the scintilla-meter.
I pull a yellow, boxed contraption out and tap the screen but it's dead. Oh no. Did I forget to charge it? No, I left it right under my bed on the shuttle, plugged into the port. Maybe it's just this light that obscures the screen? I bring my hand over the display, trying to cast a shadow so it isn't overwhelmed by the violet rays. There. I can just make out the readings. A smile sneaks its way across my lips. This place is loaded with scintilla. "Boss'll be happy," I say to myself.
I pull out my own quasma nets and set up the force field to harvest.
While I let my nets do their thing, I glance back up at the sky. About a million miles from here, that red dwarf of a sun is starting to ascend in its never-really-ascending, angled way. Like a piece of low-hanging fruit rising and falling with the wind. He's an old man, that sun, but his solar flares make for the stuff of good business.
"Cobar, wah?"
I turn to face Sheloa's reflective visor.
"What are you doing, Sheloa?"
He points to my nets. "No good. Scintilla go. See 'em, wah?"
I frown. I don't see.
"Thanks, man," I say. "Go on up and take care of your nets. I'll find another place."
Sheloa doesn't move. He usually just does what I tell him so I'm surprised when he asks, "You no see 'em, wah?"
"What do you mean?" I ask, playing dumb.
He points to my pocket. "I know, wah." He leans forward and I instinctively put up a hand between us.
"Sheloa, stop messing around. We've got work to do."
"Boss think Cobar no see 'em."
So, Boss is on to me then. Maybe it's better this way. Realistically, what are my chances of fulfilling the real mission without the artificial mutation?
All of my people lack this ability to see scintilla. It's the one thing that gives us away every time. For a while, I really thought I could do it. I could buy us just enough time to discover the Terralux. It's rumored that those who touch the Terralux can beam a thought to every sentient being simultaneously. If I could just touch it, I could change the way people think about us.
But as the months are pulled into years, and as more and more of my people disappear, this charade has gotten old. I'm getting old. And it's obvious that the ruse is up.
"Sheloa, I've got not quarrel with you. Why don't you just let me stay here? I won't last long on this planet anyway - the gravity will make me faint in a matter of hours."
"You die here, wah?" he says.
"Wah." I take a long, hard look at the valley.
"I'll just walk over to the river's edge, lean against a tree and watch the sun that never sets. Of my options, that doesn't sound like a bad way to go."
Sheloa pauses as he weighs my suggestion. Then he picks up my nets and walks over to a small clearing in the meadow that is littered with smooth, wine-tinted stones.
"Here's big one, wah? You make good catch today."
"Sheloa?"
"Come, Cobar. We no tell Boss, wah?"
I stop in my tracks. "Why would you help me? You know what that could mean for you."
"You no spit my people," he says. "Boss spit me. Boss spit everyone. You no spit my people, wah."
It takes me a second to recover from the shock, but the relief of someone knowing who I really am seems to lift the heaviness of this planet. I haven't felt this light in a long time.
So, I dare to ask him what I have never dared to ask anyone my entire life.
"What do scintilla look like?"

I'm Frank Pepitone, with SAD. Because "Superhero Accountability Department" was somehow more ego-friendly than "internal affairs."
Whatever. It was a job.
I entered the interrogation room. Jake was not handcuffed or restrained in any way, but he rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes from me.
I slapped the preliminary report on the table and sat across from him. "Alright, Mr. Brain. You ready to tell me what in Einstein's name happened out there?"
"It's Mister Mind, Peperoni."
I shrugged. "Whatever. What happened? Tell me why you didn't see this coming."
He dropped his hand to the table and glared at me. "I can't see into the future."
"Of course not. You're just a super genius who can consider all the possible outcomes in the blink of an eye." I snapped my fingers for dramatic effect.
"And what's your superpower?"
"Cold cynicism." As if he didn't already know. I rolled my eyes.
He scoffed and shook his head, his hand rising again to rub his temples.
I could feel for the kid. I mean, who couldn't relate to a romantic betrayal. It's just that most heartbreakers didn't also betray their oath to keep the world safe and run off with a weapon that could take out half of the world's governments with the push of a button. So I couldn't afford to rule out the possibility that he was manipulating me.
But that didn't mean I couldn't play along.
I sighed. "Alright, kid. So she left you high and dry. Women do that. I'm not your enemy here. But it's my job to investigate betrayals like this. Help me help you. How did you miss it? How did she get past your defenses?"
He shook his head slowly, still rubbing his forehead.
"You honestly didn't consider the possibility that she was playing you?"
"I..." he swallowed. "I didn't want to."
I blinked. Wow. He was far gone. He might be acting. But I knew him. He couldn't act to save his life. He might be playing mind games inside mind games on me.
But I knew he was telling the truth. That was my superpower. I didn't rule out the possibility that he might have figured out a way around my abilities, but considering his catatonic state, I was willing to take the risk.
I stood to leave. I paused next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Jake. I like you, kid. So I'm going to tell you this as a friend, and off the record." I leaned in. "You're an idiot." I gave his shoulder a good hard smack and left. He could use a bit more time. I'd send a deputy to collect his side of the story in an hour or two.