"Like staring at the sun", he thought to himself. Not just because of her golden hair, but because she might notice his quick glances from across the classroom.

Shit, she probably noticed anyway. She notices everything. There was a story about her overhearing a conversation from halfway across the campus. Actually, what if she can read minds? Would he know if she could?

He buried his gaze into his notepad like it could shield him from her theoretical mind-reading powers. It's hopeless. This crush... is hopeless. His pen scratched the paper like cuneiform etchings. This algebraic derivation might as well be grain counting in his mortal hand, while she's over there probably manipulating mathematical objects so complex they're conscious. Is she superintelligent, too? He heard so. She must be. Fuck.

As the bell rang, he figured he'd steal one last glance. She pushed herself off the floor and kicked off vertically, flying straight up with her hands at her sides. The notebook, her backpack, all her stuff dragged behind her in a twirl, half-magic half-physics. Right as she was about to hit the hard ceiling of the classroom, her body dispersed into fine mist and continued straight through.

Most of their classmates don't even bother to be shocked anymore. A few do still whistle every time she does it. They were slowly getting used to it, as the semester entered its fourth week. In fact, they started getting used to it the summer before, when the class allocations came out and her name shone brightly on the same list theirs was on.

"Alice Octavian".

Anyone in the world could recognize it by now. They're about the same age, so he was not around for the birth of the superhero baby than rang around the globe. But it would be impossible to miss every single news item about her escapades over the next 20 years. The kind of people who follow gossip about the British royal family never got tired of it, but all of us did eventually get used to it. The capacity of humans to get used to things is our own little superpower.

Everyone had a theory, and most everyone predicted a second one would come. Another immaculate conception. Everyone hoped for it. It wouldn't have answered anything, but at least we'd have one more datapoint. But still today she stood alone on that chart. One of one. Piece unique. A pristine bold dot that any line could be drawn across. Her.

He made it out of the building, a step at a time like any regular biped. He wondered if their college campus imitated the ones in movies or the other way around, but he wasn't going to bicker with the bright green grass and blue sky. That's it, fill your field of view with the picturesque summer day, fill your lungs with the fresh air. Breathe her out of your mind.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Wikipedia editors have still not reached consensus on the exact list of her powers, but they definitely omitted her ability to haunt his mind for most of his waking moments. Some of the non-waking ones, too, though dreams always had a life of their own.

There were some other thoughts that he could dangle in front of his consciousness like a carrot. The lab in the Altimus building. In fact, he'd head there right now. Perhaps he'll see Jackson and they can do some brief work on their cubesat. It was a fun project, and Jackson was good company, even if he refused to talk about "the Girl". Maybe that's for the better.

Even as the sight of Alice taking off like a rocket on Tuesdays and Thursdays was becoming normal, there was another sight that he promised himself will remain special to him during all his years here. The peculiar gothic chapel in the middle of campus. Its size made him think of it as a cathedral, but everyone called it a chapel. It hasn't been performing either service for years now, but not even the bureaucrats in school admin were heartless enough to let it fall into disrepair. The hellish reliefs were kept pristine by weekly cleanings, and the wide tower- wait...

His vision froze like when you spot a bug in the corner of your eye on your bathroom tiles. Her golden hair was like a flag in the wind, on the very top of the tower.

Although he would not dare compare her skinny body, clad in jeans and a simple tee, to a flagpole, it was stood atop the ornate spine with the same timeless serenity. He knew that that deceptively frail lighting rod could summon - through some trans-dimensional gate or another - enough kinetic energy to blow the old church apart, into atoms, into the mist she herself becomes when she walks through walls.  Didn't Jesus do that; destroy a temple?

His heart played with a hint of teasing arousal as he went inside. That feeling of "nothing will happen, but something might". The chapel was empty, as it almost always was, to the point that he would get frustrated when he found someone else in the pews, telepathically disturbing his peace. Yes, he decided, he did like this place better than the Altimus lab. It was his favorite on the whole campus. The chilled air and tinted beams of light never failed to clarify his mind.

Except it was failing, right now. His heart was beating. Her unseen presence bent the arches above him. It bent spacetime itself. Usually he'd read a book or jot in his small notebook, but today he could only pace. Up and down the isle. Minutes and minutes passed, glacially.

The airy interior felt like a catacomb, closing in. Was she still there? Does she know he's here? Of course she knew. Finally, he fell down to this knees at the altar. The turmoil exhausted him to the point of rest. He put his head in his hands. He had no God. Well, not the one for whom this place was built. But his emptied mind felt like a warm embrace. It was all he needed. It's been an hour. He exited. She was gone.