"This lab, ancient. Cer, apologizing for dust and mess."

You could have fooled me. It seemed like the same almost-offensively shiny metal as everywhere else in the structure. Machines gleamed as though they'd been polished this morning. The only thing to apologize for was Soran's charred corpse that we'd brought in with us, still reeking of burning flesh.

AEGIS was frowning as she perused them. "I see what you mean," she said.

"Well I don't. It's spotless."

"Okay, maybe not the dust. But this instrument, you see the welding on the pipes there?"

"Yeah, looks sloppy."

"And that valve is the wrong size. It's just spliced in with adapters. Made out of whatever parts the creator had on-hand."

I guess I'd just been taken in by the superficial. The polished sheen on everything was Cer's doing, but whomever had put this stuff together in the first place had, now that I was looking closer, done kind of a hackjob. I was a little embarrassed that I'd overlooked it so readily, after my internship under Whitney.

My god, what would she think of this place? I remembered how she was practically drooling at the prospect of taking AEGIS apart. But a whole lab, stuffed with cross-dimensional innovations she'd never heard of? We'd never be able to get her to leave.

Or eat. She already had a hard time with that one, and this world presumably had no cups of instant ramen left.

"Cer, understanding if honored guests would prefer to leave. Disgusting. However, this lab, also only means of contacting muses directly."

"Who built these, Cer?"

"Single man, built or oversaw building of almost all things in this lab, Cer included. Cer, pleased that his aptitude progressed in time between making these and making Cer. Embarrassing."

"That'd be Ramanthan," I said.

"Correct! Awe."

AEGIS turned to the machines with renewed interest, and I now had a small inkling of understanding why.

From what we knew, this world and our own both had a Dr. Ramanathan. He was a genius who lived hundreds of years ago, near the time when Exhumanity first appeared. In his earliest works, he was apparently a fervent student of dimensional theory, but at some point made the leap to studying Exhumans instead.

I kind of cringed inwardly at the thought. Even hundreds of years ago, there was still only one thing that came to mind to suddenly drive a person into sudden, passionate interest in Exhumans.

But in this dimension, there were no Exhumans. Ramanathan kept on his studies of dimensional theory, and presumably was still working on them, in this lab, when the Sino War happened and America was wiped out. Judging by the damage to the upper levels, and how many craters there were near or at the entrance, they probably all got trapped in here, awaiting a slow death.

Unless they didn't, I wondered. Unless that was why there was a gateway created to point at our world. But the implications of a whole mass of survivors flooding in from another dimension seemed...unreal.

I blinked and found AEGIS watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"I dunno what you're thinking. Something about Ramanathan, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah. About how...maybe...there's nobody here, not because they died, but because they left. Cer--"

"Athan, one more thing," she said seriously. "Do you remember, when you were talking with Ajax, you two disagreed on what year it was?"

"Uh. No. Wait, yeah. Oh no. No...no!" I held my head, and had to take a step to steady myself. "He said the portal took years for him to go through! The jump or...some kind of void-probability bullshit...when he reached our world, it was years and years later."

"Thirty years," she said. "Thirty-three, actually."

I felt like everything was falling away around me. Thirty-three years? If we went back, would we arrive only to find out that Justice had already demolished the earth?

"Woah, easy there," AEGIS said. "I don't think it actually took the machine thirty-three years to send them over."

"I know," I shook my head. "It was just some kind of dimensional time bullshit thing, same difference."

"No. That's not what I meant. There's no such thing as time travel, Athan, even if there are places where relativity causes time to pass faster or slower in the void, the people in it would still experience that time. Ajax and Celia aren't sixty years old for having come through the gate."

"Then what does that mean?"

"It means...I suspect...this dimension and ours aren't in perfect synch. This world is thirty years younger than ours, basically. Or at least, if we compare their year numbering system to ours, or any global milestones, that's what I suspect we'll find."

"Most astute!" Cer chimed. "Your world, chosen for this reason. By design."

"Chosen for what?" I asked. "I'm not fan of enigma, Cer."

"Apologies. Cer, shown you by now, had you not been distracted by contemplation of Dr. Ramanathan. Please."

Soran's body was placed on a table, and the whole thing wheeled over towards a machine that kinda looked like a tower fan. A plastic grille, maybe eight feet tall, perforated enough to permit air to flow through but at the same time, hard to see inside, except to get the general impression of a lot of machine parts in there. Next to the machine, attached to it, was a display I recognized as a pixels. That told me how old this shit was.

"Ramathan, first success in contacting the muses directly, with this machine," Cer proudly announced. "Shame. Machine, works only with a single muse, as it turned out. Still, enough!"

"Like, it...what, could only be calibrated with one 'muse' or something? Or it just like...bonded with the first one he reached out to?"

"No. Muses, uninterested in speaking to humans, in general. One exception."

"Aoede," AEGIS nodded.

"Please wait. Engaging!"

I wasn't sure what we were waiting for, but we waited nonetheless. There was a relatively minor surge of electricity as the machine came to life, and then several minutes of it just sitting there thrumming, before the sound of it intensified and…

And what? We continued waiting.

I was apparently supposed to be excited, if Cer's ferenic bobbing was any indication. But I didn't see any indication of any Aoede or anything manifesting here. Just…

"Athan, look," AEGIS whispered, pointing at the pixels. I cocked my head and saw there was green lettering on the black display now, spelling out tiny, blocky words.

> Salutation begins.

> We are delighted that you have succeeded in coming this far. Our guidance was insufficient, imperfect-sight was compromised. Yet, here you stand. Formal-greetings, THE ATHAN, THE AEGIS. Formal-reaffiliation, THE CERBERUS.

> Salutation concludes.

"What is this?" AEGIS asked.

"This, Aoede's words, talking to you," Cer bubbled. "Cer, remembering just as though it were yesterday, before he had a drone to inhabit, Ramathan's excitement at his first exchange with Aoede."

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"This is her?" I asked. "You're serious. Right now, those words on the pixels, that's...Mage's power talking to us, somehow?"

"Cer, could be more specific in the 'somehow', but honored guest has the gist of it, yes."

"How do I...how do I talk back?"

The screen flickered as another line appeared.

> Informational interjection. We hear you.

"I guess she hears you," AEGIS said. She sounded completely unsold on this entire concept, poised almost like she was ready to run. "Athan this is weird."

"You're Mage's power, really?"

> Conclusive agreement. Yes.

"What was her name, then?"

> Patronizing response. Mejia, Camila.

"Did I know what?" I asked AEGIS, who rolled her eyes at me.

"Have you not ever actually read the dossiers of your team?" She asked.

"Uh. Probably at some point...I think."

"What's Tower's name?" she crossed her arms.

I blinked at her. "Um. I know Jack's."

She rolled her eyes again. "Anyway, yes, her name was Camila Mejia, yes. Aoede, you've spent a lot of effort to bring us here, why?"

> Pandering procrastination. It is difficult to explain.

"Why does it always start with a descriptor?" AEGIS asked. "Is it a rule that everyone in this world has a weird way of speaking?"

"Cer, not understanding the issue," he chimed. "Descriptor, added by instrument during interpretation to convey added meaning not easily conveyed in words. Disable?"

"No, leave it on," I said. "But still, I want to know AEGIS' question, too."

> Patient suggestion. Are you certain? Recitation-history is extensive, and nonconsequential.

"Nonconsequential?" I read. "As in, it doesn't matter if we know or not?"

> Patronizing fib. Of course it matters.

"Just tell us," I hissed at the machine. Maybe I should have been speaking to the body. Maybe I was insane for considering either of those an actual thing to converse with.

> Begrudging, acceptance. As you wish.

> Exposition begins.

> We are possessed of sight very-different from yours. Our sight does not observe linearity of time as you do, nor do we; we exist beyond. However: we do understand these concepts, through our interactions with THE YAAN.

"Who's the Yaan?" I asked.

AEGIS and Cer both answered at once. "Dr. Ramanathan."

> In our sight, we saw an end-of-all-things, and through it, a way to circumvent. We have enjoyed fruitful-time spent in the company of humans and human-dimension, and do not wish it to end. We also admit some responsibility in causing end-of-all-things, and experienced remorse.

"Wait. It's you that's causing the end of everything? You're responsible for Justice?"

> We are responsible for THE YAAN, who is responsible for THE CERBERUS, who is responsible for THE LIEV. Though this potential outcome was not visible because of limitations in the imperfect-sight, it was our actions which led here. We hope, it will be our actions which lead from here, as well.

My mind spun as I turned on Cer. Or The Cerberus, apparently. "You. You're the one ending our world?"

"Cer, saving your world, actually, as per Dr. Ramanathan's orders."

"Let's not point blame until we understand," AEGIS warned. "Everything's so weird and fucky right now, and we're all getting along, so how about we figure things out, and then we...do what we do."

"But AEGIS--"

She stared at me, and I realized...I didn't have anything to really follow that up.

"Aoede says he is responsible for Justice."

"And do you think cutting Cer apart is going to make Justice's body disintegrate, back in our world?"

"N-no…"

"Then maybe, let's think this through. Even if it is true, we're here looking for a weak point in Justice somehow. This link might just be it, but only if we understand it."

"Right," I nodded. "Sorry. I'm just...worried."

"I know you are. I am too. And I know...I might get a little carried away in trying to learn and understand things all the time. But I really think this time, it's important."

"I guess."

> Weary plea. If you wish to go now, please do. Recitation-history remains nonconsequential.

"No, please go on," AEGIS asked. "About you, and why you brought us here."

> Continuation. It is difficult to say. The imperfect-sight has clouded, there are too many to see clearly. Once, the path forward was obvious, but now it is speculative-guesswork. Bringing you here seemed best-option. Yet, vision is obscured, time is short, host draws weak, and there are too many.

"Too many what?"

> Response. Too many muses.

I looked at AEGIS in puzzlement. "Too many muses? Too many powers?"

"In Soran?" she asked.

"Aoede, do your powers get weaker, the more powers you put in a person?" I felt like I was asking regularly, but my heart was pounding at the prospect. Maybe this was Justice's weak point.

I felt myself deflate as I read the answer.

> Response. No. Not weaker. Hungrier. More aggressive.

"The...powers are more aggressive?"

"They must drive the host to be," AEGIS mused. "Think about it, Soran used to be very cool and in-control, the first time you met him before he had Mage's power. And then the last time, he was...frantic, ferenic, just sorta lashing out at random with his powers."

"And at the far end of that spectrum is Justice? He's got hundreds of powers, or muses, or whatever you call them, and he's just...insane. Intent on destroying everything, for no reason."

"He has reasons, though." AEGIS tapped her chin. "We know he started by going after people who had slighted him personally, before he...turned. And then lawyers, which was, maybe, an extension of what he'd done before? Go after a lawyer, and then all lawyers? And as he went, he either made up this justifying narrative, or he was legit crazy enough to believe it, that he was somehow purifying the injustice from the world."

I shook my head. "He's just insane. Looking at his actions for reason is a waste of time."

"You're right. But that doesn't change the fact that insane people have reasons for what they do. They're just not...reasons grounded in actual reality. They get so far from seeing or understanding what actually is that they're doing completely rational things in a world that makes no sense. Or, to us, as an outside observer, actions that make no sense."

"He's still just blowing up everything," I commented.

She sighed. "I'm just trying to understand, Athan."

> Affirmation. She is correct, though. His thoughts are twisted beyond his own understanding. To THE LIEV, his options are consistently pushed by muses towards aggression-choice. He feels he has no option but to lash out. Forced-hand experience by outsiders.

Well that was shitty. I'd just minutes ago had an epiphany over my need to kill people, feeling like my hands were always forced. Even if Liev was still just an insane, world-destroying lunatic, I could relate with the feeling of persecution, and the desire to change things that I think was common across all Exhumanity.

Just. There were better ways than killing literally everyone. As much as I'd had my days where the world felt like a total write-off, those were just dark thoughts at the corners of my mind. I never really considered it. But was that the influence of the muses? To make other options seem impossible, and leave only those impulses left in his mind?

If so...it suddenly made a lot more sense why he'd call himself Justice. All that everything he was trying to destroy, it certainly had a lot of the unjust festering within it.

AEGIS gave her hair a little tug as she thought aloud. "So...basically, somehow, you were responsible for Justice. You saw him coming, through the, erm, imperfect-sight, and you manipulated things so that you, and Athan, and I would be here...because this was the only way you saw forward to stopping Justice?"

> Agreement. Yes.

"Except that, as Soran got more powers, he slipped out of your control, and your future-sight thing diminished. Which let him get more powers, which let him slip away further, and for as long as he's been doing that, you haven't been able to tell if we're all collectively going down the right path or not."

> Resigned agreement. Yes.

She scratched her head. "And how is it that you were responsible for creating Justice, exactly?"

> Attempted sidestep. It is long-narrative, and nonconsequential. I suggest we do otherwise. Perhaps THE CERBERUS has more science-devices you wish to observe? Some of which may yet prove relevant.

"Oh! Cer, indeed does."

"It says 'attempted sidestep' right there, Cer," I jabbed my finger at the screen. "Come on."

> Frustrated admission. This means of communication is imperfect.

"Just spill it," AEGIS insisted. "Tell us everything about Justice, and then we can make an informed decision whether we should be playing with instruments or mad at you or what."

Nothing happened for a few moments, and I was worried the machine broke. But then words popped up on the pixels again.

> Resigned acceptance. It is a long-story, and requires full-explanation of our history with THE YAAN, as well as the full nature of muses. Are you certain?

AEGIS' eyes were alight. "Full explanation of muses? Of Exhuman powers? Yes. Very yes. Hell yes."

> Joking acceptance. I should have foreseen that coming. Please make yourselves comfortable.

We took Aoede's advice and found some stools under a lab bench, dragging them over so we could read along. After a few lines, AEGIS cleared her throat, and began to read aloud, like she was telling us all a bedtime story. But it wasn't a story like any I'd ever heard.

And it all began, as Aoede always did, with a descriptor:

> Exposition begins.