As arranged, Norman met the young Polish student in front of the student hall of residence. Under his guidance, they walked to one of the teaching buildings, which was still surprisingly busy for 7.00 pm. Leo steered unerringly through the stream of students. Through the entrance gate, along the corridor and then down the stairs to the basement. There was noticeably less traffic downstairs. Norman read the labels on the doors as he passed. Storage rooms, a meditation room and some rooms neutrally labeled with the numbers of normal classrooms. The two turned a corner and stood in front of a massive steel fire door. Norman pushed the handle down on a trial basis and pulled, "Locked. I assume you have a key?" Leo shook his head and wordlessly reached past him for the handle. He casually turned it upwards. The door opened without resistance. The door hinges were well oiled and ran completely silently.

He looked around quickly and then beckoned Norman to go ahead. When they were both through, he closed the door again. A few meters further on, the corridor was blocked again by another, much newer, solid door. This one only had a wide handle and no lock or handle. Norman had no problem opening it at Leo's request. Laughter, clinking glasses and music rang out immediately. The noise came from the classroom door on the right. "Did you install the second door as soundproofing?"

Leo shook his head: "The door was installed by the class of '74. They needed a quiet corner here to smoke hash. Every few years after that, a few students got together to expand or change the interior. But it's never looked as good as it does now." He motioned Norman to go ahead.

The former classroom was illuminated by a large number of decorative ceiling floodlights scattered around the room. Comfortable brown leather sofas and leather armchairs were arranged in small groups around low, square, solid wood tables. The smell of coffee and cigarette smoke from half a dozen of the guests present wafted towards him. On the right-hand wall, where one would normally have expected to find a blackboard, there was a large professional-looking espresso machine and numerous additions and extensions that were not immediately obvious. Next to it were cupboards and shelves full of bottles, syrups and coffee additives. A chic counter, which would not have stood out even in a bar, contained a tap, sink and even a dishwasher.

Norman patted his fellow student on the shoulder, impressed: "Wow. I really didn't expect that. How did you install all the fittings? And the ventilation system on the ceiling?" He pointed to the thick metal pipes that sucked out the smoke-filled air and replaced it with fresh air.

"Old chemistry lab. Water connection and an extremely powerful fume extractor were all already in here. And the old stoners who originally set this up were the first to tinker with the ventilation. The milk frother is mine."

Norman looked at the device he was pointing at a little doubtfully: "Is that a blender?"

"Well recognized."

"And that's an air compressor over there?"

"Exactly."

"That thing inside the blender should be an immersion heater, right?"

"Also correct."

"And the whole thing is a milk frother then?"

"That's what I said. This thing creates a liter of the best milk foam in seven seconds."

For the time being, Norman decided not to order anything that might necessitate the use of this monstrosity.

"Would you like to sit down today?" A lanky student with long, brown hair waved invitingly at them. Leonardo waved back and pulled Norman behind him. "Sure thing Archie. Norman, this is Archeron LeMontaine, the coolest magician at the university. Arch, this here is Norman Zimmermann."

The "magician" stood up and shook Norman's hand. "Norman the...?"

Norman didn't understand.

"Well, Norman the magician; Norman the powerful psionic or Norman the cloaked alien. What's your quirk?"

"Um... Actually, most likely Norman the architecture student."

Archeron looked at him pityingly for a moment, but then immediately covered it up by pointing invitingly at the leather armchairs next to him. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad either... Have a seat. I'll get us a drink. Leo, bitter lemon for you as usual? And you Norman?"

"I'll have a wheat beer."

Leo, Archeron and two students at the next table spontaneously started laughing uproariously. Leo was the first to pull himself together: "I'm sorry. I hadn't thought to mention that: There's no alcohol here on the university campus."

"Why is that?"

Archeron joined in the conversation: "Sounds strange at first glance, but just imagine the people you've seen here so far drunk." He looked at Norman expectantly. In his mind's eye, flying skateboarders bumped into witches riding broomsticks, while drunken hobbyists shot laser guns and silly laughing magicians shot fireballs at passers-by. "I think I understand what you mean. But how do they enforce it here? Nobody voluntarily bans alcohol completely."

Leo shrugged his shoulders. "If you've already put a powerful protection spell around the whole site anyway, it's surprisingly easy. Anyone who tries to smuggle alcohol onto the grounds will be stopped immediately by the janitor or one of the gardeners. And if they make it into one of the buildings, the principal comes round almost immediately. And that really is something you only experience once..."

"What if I just go for a drink in the city?"

"If you want to try to enter the grounds with more than 0.5 per mille, please let me know in advance. I'll bring my camera with me to make a film for the next semester. We have at least a dozen cases every year until word gets around. And I could really do without it for a semester. It's really not a pretty sight. If you need something, throw in some drugs. I've heard that you can get some interesting drugs under the table in the chemistry department. Or from the botanists."

"Why are drugs allowed if not even alcohol is allowed?"

"I have no idea. I've heard that most drugs paralyze psychic powers before common sense. But some of the doctors said that was nonsense. Maybe it's just pure chicanery."

Normen had been listening to fragments of the other students' conversations with half an ear the whole time. And now he noticed something that had been subconsciously on his mind the whole time: "Tell me, Leo, where did you come from again?"

"Sudarjovski, a boring village in Poland. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just surprised that you speak German with no accent at all. Just like everyone else here."

"German? I don't speak a word of anything except Polish. Even if I can memorize everything else, I have zero talent for languages." He looked at his conversation partner blankly for a moment, then slapped his forehead with his hand: "Oh, of course! You haven't been able to read the whole brochure yet with all the confusion today. You really should catch up. The university is covered in a complicated jumble of spells. We usually just call the whole thing 'The Veil', because the spell also prevents anyone in the town next door from noticing any unusual behavior on the part of our students. And it also ensures that everyone perceives the language of all the other students as their mother tongue. Ingenious, isn't it?"

"A spell that can translate all languages? So that you don't even notice it?"

"Exactly."

"It must be quite complicated." He thought for a moment, grinned and concentrated on a snowy landscape. He imagined a wide valley, white snow glistening in the sun. Breath forming dense clouds in the icy cold air. He waited until the image filled his entire imagination. Only then did he continue: "That's a damn cool spell."

Leo was taken aback. "Why do you think it's cold? Magic itself doesn't have a temperature."

"I just think it's cool."

"I see. Why don't you say that now?"

"Tell me, Leo, can spells read minds? You know, sometimes I almost feel like I have a voice..."

No, you didn't. You don't hear voices. No one reads your thoughts.

Leo leaned forward curiously as he hesitated. "Yes?"

"I mean, I can almost hear the original language sometimes. But I'm probably just imagining it."

"Speaking of cool..." Norman noticed with interest that there was no misunderstanding this time. "...I'm really surprised that everyone here is staying so damn cool."

"What do you mean?"

"You would think that not everyone would accept this madhouse so easily. Magic? That alone should bring out some religious fanatics. Even here in Germany. Besides, some people here must be homesick. Standing in the corridors with crying fits. Whining about why they can't phone home.

Leo shrugged his shoulders: "They probably don't accept sissies like that at university."

"But how do you sort them out? I mean, psychological aptitude tests in all honor, but they're not that good. There must definitely be some students who can't cope with all this. But I haven't met any yet. Not a single one! By the way, I didn't take a psychological test or anything like that. I just sent in a written application using a standard form. I don't think you can tell much from that."

"They wrote to me directly. I don't even know where they got my address from... Well, it doesn't matter. The main thing is that I'm here where I have access to the most ingenious programming processes and hardware systems I've ever heard of! And of course all the magic stuff."

"You see! I've already asked a few people, no one has done any relevant tests..."

The selection procedures obviously worked. No students with homesickness or similar were accepted. They are almost all adults. Everything is in order.

He turned his head slightly as if he was trying to hear something: "... but somehow it works out. Besides, most of them are already adults."

"Exactly." Leonardo's gaze only flickered for a split second. Not even Norman, who was sitting directly opposite him, noticed anything.

Norman thought for a moment: "But that the parents didn't cause any trouble when their offspring were unavailable for a while? And that they all managed with magic and psi powers without any nervous breakdowns! That's..."

Pretty stubborn. Let's give it a try then: Hey, look! Tits!

Without knowing exactly why, Norman turned his head to the side in mid-sentence and looked over to the next table. There, a particularly well-proportioned blonde student was bending over to pick up a dropped coffee spoon. From this perspective, the belly-free designer sweater with the very generous neckline left no doubt that, with her firm breasts, she didn't think it was necessary to wear a bra.

Leo followed his gaze and blew quietly through his teeth in approval. When the blonde straightened up again, they both looked away quickly and Leo changed the subject after a few awkward seconds.

The two talked for a while about old stories from their youth and compared their hometowns. After a short time, a competition developed in which each tried to make their home town look more boring than the other.

Over the course of the next hour, a few more new students arrived and joined the happy group. After the space ran out, more of the small square tables were added. Chairs from surrounding tables were quickly brought in and after a while, despite all efforts, it became so cramped that people had to watch their elbows carefully when drinking so as not to bump into anyone.

In turn, the new arrivals told their stories of origin and how they had come to study here. Most of them, like Norman, had received normal-looking invitations to start university or, in areas where universities had not yet been invented, for an apprenticeship. Except that the bus, or in many cases the coach or canoe, had then abandoned them to the chaos of the university campus without further explanation. It was actually surprising how few crying fits and nervous breakdowns had occurred when men and women suddenly found themselves completely unprepared to face a wide variety of cultures, mysterious magic and incomprehensible technology.

A smaller group had been at the university a little longer, as they had come here in the middle of the semester. These students had come here under their own steam or through the most incredible accidents from their home countries. Malfunctions in hyperdrives, botched teleportation spells and, in one case, a test drive with a self-built time machine.

Horst just shrugged his shoulders when the turn came to him. "I haven't learned anything clever and I can't do anything special either."

"And what did you get your scholarship for?" Norman had finally gotten that much out of him.

"I did one of those things. Math and stuff. The results had to be marked on a piece of paper. And I just put a nice little figure in the box."

"And those were 'coincidentally' the right results?" Leo sounded very incredulous and the others present were clearly not convinced either.

"Ha, if only I told you so. Pure coincidence!"

Leo calmly pulled his ever-present PDA out of his pocket and typed in a few numbers. "What's the fourth root of 531441?"

"Ha dees wois I doch net!"

"Guess what."

"What is I. Twenty-seven?"

"Correct. I'd say you're a mathematical genius without actively knowing it."

The beefy giant literally shrank as he pulled his head between his shoulders, crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and grumbled quietly to himself: "Manno... Mag koi Scheni sei..."

Norman looked expectantly at the student next to him, but he just shook his head. "Nah nah. You first."

"Well, I only study architecture here. I don't know why they took me. Maybe a quota system for normal people?"

After a few people had already been banging on about what they could do, the crowd was not prepared to give up so easily. Suddenly, the newly qualified architecture student found himself under cross-examination.

Leo rolled up his sleeves with a grin: "Let's check the simple things first. Give me both hands and look deep into my eyes."

"What are you up to?"

"The spell to determine if you have a magical talent is so simple, my buddy from senior year taught it to me. It doesn't hurt either."

"All right." The two of them clasped hands and Leo mumbled something under his breath. "Nope, sorry about that. You don't have an ounce of magic in you."

Norman pulled a slightly disappointed face. He would certainly have enjoyed being able to do magic.

"Maybe psi powers?" someone suggested. "Ever read people's minds, sensed their emotions or had prophetic dreams?"

"No, no and... No."

Jake Carson, a hyper-nervous guy who had already stood up briefly several times to just walk aimlessly back and forth, stroked his sparse chin beard. "Can't we test that? Don't we have a psionicist here?" His eyes darted from face to face as he turned his head frantically.

"Cerebrantis here is a psionic! He mentioned that earlier. Go on, test him." The slender student who was addressed, who had clearly felt at ease in the large crowd without being noticed, visibly flinched at the sudden general attention directed at him. "I... I don't know how that works. I'm only really good at telekinesis. But Daria here is a psi-sniffer, she can recognize any psionic on sight."

The person addressed reacted much more happily to the sudden attention. She stood up with theatrical arm movements, bowed briefly like a circus director introducing his main attraction and then stared directly into Norman's eyes without warning. For a moment, he thought he heard a faint whisper in his head, then the redhead shook her head. "He hasn't got a shred of psionic talent. The same goes for most of the others present, by the way. Apart from Cerebrantis, who stands out like a beacon in any crowd, only the two..." She pointed to two students. "... a hint of talent. And that's a pretty positive way of putting it. Well, Norman, I guess we'll have to keep looking."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

A quiet "Versaaager..." rang out from somewhere in the crowd. Leo looked around disapprovingly for a moment and then turned back to the center of attention: "They wouldn't have let you into the university if you didn't have a special talent. Just look at the other students! So tell me, do you have an unusually good memory? A talent for machines?"

"Nope. My memory isn't bad, but if you mean a photographic memory, I'll have to pass. But I've actually always been good with machines."

"Ah! Crazy inventions in your youth? A computer that you once took apart and that ran faster afterwards? Any mobiles that kept moving endlessly without a power supply?" Leo turned to the crowd with a grin. "That caused quite a stir at our school's annual science competition. Of course, they disqualified me because a perpetual motion machine can't work and I must have cheated. After the newspaper article, my father got a call from the university. After they offered him a scholarship for me, he would have sent me to India."

"Crazy inventions? Well, I once replaced a distributor in my car all by myself. Does that count?"

Someone in the crowd said in astonishment: "You have a car?"

"Yes, an old VW Polo. I saved up the money from my apprenticeship."

"Didn't I see you arrive on the bus this morning?"

Norman shook his head in exaggerated agony: "Have you seen how much it costs to park here in the campus parking lot? I can't afford that for the life of me."

Leo tilted his head thoughtfully: "Very few people here have a driver's license. Maybe you can count that as a special skill." He didn't sound very convinced.

"Most people I know my age have a driver's license. That's completely normal."

"Most of the people you'll meet here aren't particularly normal. But I think we're getting off the subject. You must have something that made it worthwhile letting you in here. I've got it, you must be adopted right?"

"No, I'm definitely not."

"But maybe you were switched as a child or..."

"When my parents divorced, my father insisted on a paternity test. This is actually not allowed here, but the judge agreed to it as an exception so that he would finally agree to an amicable settlement. The result was clear. My father also apologized profusely to my mother afterwards. They almost made up again, but there was just too much bad blood..."

"Any famous ancestors?" The question came from Alteema, a student who was firmly convinced that she was a direct descendant of Nostradamus and had been accepted because of her prophetic abilities. Of course, she was completely wrong, but she didn't know that.

"Most of my relatives on my mother's side are farmers in the umpteenth generation. And most of my father's were insurance agents. The only famous one is Grandpa Waldemar, who worked at the old Benz in the workshop when they built the first gasoline-powered cars. "

Everyone seemed to enjoy asking questions. Suggestions were now coming from all directions.

"Do you have any special scars? Or birthmarks in the shape of a pentagram or a crown?"

"Just a few normal small, round moles."

"Any legends or prophecies in your family?"

Although the whole thing was starting to make Norman uncomfortable, he had to grin at the question: "My mother always told me that I'd never amount to anything if I didn't do my homework."

"Okay, we're not getting anywhere like this. You must be able to do something!" Leo raised his hands and looked at those standing around him in turn, challenging them.

"I've got it! Did you ever find any ancient family heirlooms in your attic? Spell books or mystical amulets?"

"I still live with my mother in a small 3-room rented apartment. We don't have an attic. And there's just enough space in our basement for the freezer, washing machine and dryer. We put old heirlooms in the bulky waste when we first moved house after my parents divorced."

In the meantime, Leo had pulled out his ever-present PDA and compiled a list of the previous suggestions and ticked each one off. The next suggestion was also quickly discarded. He had simply been walking around in daylight for too long for a vampire, and he only reacted with a raised eyebrow to the crucifix that a fellow student had unexpectedly thrust in his face.

After that, the interest slowly faded and the general attention turned to the next candidate. On the one hand, Norman was pleased that he had finally escaped the spotlight, but he also noticed that there was much less interest in him than before. While discussions broke out around him about their respective abilities, no one was interested in him.

After an entertaining evening, everyone gradually said their goodbyes and went in small groups to their respective student accommodation.

Norman found himself between Leo and Harry Gambini, who both lived in the same dormitory and were still pretty excited. He himself was rather quiet, which the young magician noticed halfway through: "Are you ok? You seem so thoughtful."

"Oh, I kind of don't want to end up here as an outsider because I'm the only one in the whole school who is completely normal."

"Now don't exaggerate. Most stranded people don't have any special skills."

"Stranded?"

"Well, all the people who ended up here because teleporters failed and so on. Okay, some of them are mages or aliens, so they're interesting, but a lot of them are couriers or just normal people from the street. Melver Martinez, for example..."

"Is that the Mexican-looking little guy who landed with us in a time machine?"

"That's the one. He usually delivers pizzas."

"With a time machine?"

"No! By bike. He has no school-leaving certificate, no driver's license and no idea about time travel. I had a chat with him earlier, they just put him on the bike, attached a few sensors to him and sent him off automatically."

"A pizza service with a time machine would be cool. Do you think that thing still works?"

"That depends..." Leo hesitated.

"On what?"

"Theoretically, you could use the machine again to get here from Melver's home. But that's about it. From what I've heard, the thing is so badly calibrated that it causes an untargeted dimensional crash every time. And that always gets him out here on campus."

"Dimensional collapse? Is that a technical term for time travel or what?"

"There's no such thing as time travel." Leo waved his hand very firmly. "All the professors and scientists I've met here so far agree on that. The only possible direction of movement through time is towards the future. And believe me, the idea of time paradoxes triggered by time-traveling students would never let me sleep again."

Norman cleared his throat uncertainly. After all, he had no idea about the whole physical side of time travel. "So where did Melver come from?"

"From a parallel dimension that, relatively speaking, lies further in the future than ours. There are quite a few of these that lie on different time planes. However, most of the ones we can reach are in the past from our perspective. I don't quite understand this either, but the energy level of worlds that lie further in the future is significantly higher and therefore more difficult or even impossible to reach."

"Could we even send him back then?"

"Apparently there is a project team that is currently working on nothing else. But they are probably more interested in getting their hands on the advanced technology of the future. The time machine itself works, or rather doesn't work, based on completely wrong theoretical approaches. The miniature fusion core that has been installed cannot possibly generate enough energy to return to a higher level. The joke about the site of this university is that it is at the lowest possible level. The fusion reactor under the university becomes almost critical every time we send someone off with one of the gigantic dimensional transporters. The return devices, on the other hand, are easily portable and run on a car battery. Some even have a rechargeable battery that can be recharged with a crank handle in emergencies. It just takes forever." He looked at the incredulous face of his conversation partner. "Is what?"

Norman tapped his flat hands together in the shape of a 'T', as if to indicate a time-out in sports: "Second, if the university is at the lowest energy level and the more backward dimensions are further and further up, then we must be in the Stone Age here, right?"

"Not necessarily. The order is usually such that dimensions further in the future are at a higher level. But not always. We still hope to find a really advanced civilization at an achievable energy level. That would catapult our research forward. Our own dimension here is actually completely out of line. Nobody knows why. It's almost as if they've been thrown all the way down from the natural order. But that wouldn't make any sense. And besides, no known machine is capable of generating that much energy."

"Speaking of energy, did you just mention that they have a fusion reactor under the site? I heard on the news once that it was still under development. And why hasn't anyone mentioned that they regularly send people to other dimensions here?"

"The reactor comes from one of the UFOs that crashed here. I'll have to tell you sometime what a fuss it was with the on-board computer until they were allowed to remove the reactor. That's my quantum physics professor's favorite story. He tells it every semester, but I love listening to it every time. And nobody's told you about it yet because you've only been here for a day and the experiments are top secret."

"Top secret at a university? So you mean only about half the students know about it?"

Leo returned his broad grin: "Let's say one third is informed and another third at least suspects something."

"Must be pretty profitable if you can mine the raw materials of other worlds. And then, of course, you could dispose of hazardous waste and stuff like that on uninhabited worlds. And found colonies. And..."

"Stop! There aren't quite that many transports. For D-travel, you have to manipulate 5-dimensional energy fields and there is no material in this universe that can do that. The laws of physics prevent such a thing from ever happening." He looked at his interlocutor expectantly. Norman did him a favor and asked, with only a slightly annoyed tone of voice: "And how do they do that?"

"They scavenge dimensional transporters that come from other dimensions, where other laws of nature prevail, and which are stranded here. There is only one known material that can act as a catalyst for the creation or manipulation of multidimensional force fields. The Englishman who discovered it at the time called it Gallifreynium. It's supposed to be a reference to some old BBC series that was on at the time."

"So every time someone lands here with an experimental time machine or something like that, you steal it and recycle the parts?"

"Well, let's just say that most travelers voluntarily give us their machines to finance their stay. We also bring them back if possible."

"But once you've built a dimensional portal or a dimensional transporter, can't you use it an unlimited number of times?"

"Unfortunately no. The gallifreynium crystal structure decays very quickly in our universe when used. Another unpleasant surprise that has already brought us a few permanent guests. At home, they could test their devices as often as they wanted. But as soon as they switch it on here with us, you can really see how the gallifreynium coating on the field coils evaporates."

"Then why don't you just use magic to travel? Why all the hassle with machines anyway?"

"Magic is also limited by the laws of nature. Portal spells have to be learned individually for each dimension and that's supposed to be damn tricky. And to use them, you throw gallifreynium dust into the air, which then acts as a focus. And it's consumed in the same way."

"Wow. That's like driving from Berlin to Stuttgart by car and then not being able to get back because there's no gas in Stuttgart."

"Most of the time, it's more likely that the car has never used any gas in Berlin and the driver suddenly finds himself in Stuttgart with an empty tank and no gas station. And then we send him back to Berlin by train and cannibalize his car to pay for his ticket."

"And what's it like when... Hey! Cut it out!" Norman stumbled briefly when a fat bird almost a meter tall with stubby wings tried to peck at the laces of his sneakers while he was running. Apparently he thought they were worms. When the two students stopped, the bird looked up with its head tilted to one side and such a perplexed look on its face that they both started laughing spontaneously. It didn't even resist when Norman carefully grabbed it and lifted it up with outstretched arms. The bird had blue-grey feathers, a funny plume for a tail and weighed a surprising amount. Probably around 15 kg. "What kind of creature is that?"

"That? Oh, that's one of five test pilots who arrived here in a converted VW Beetle. Must have been about 15 years ago. They multiplied like rabbits."

"Test pilots? You mean the bird is intelligent?" He set the surprised bird back down and began pointing at himself and slowly saying his name. "Me Norman. What your name?"

The bird straightened its head, looked uncomprehending and tilted it again.

"I..." he tapped his chest patiently with his index finger "...Norman." He waited.

The feathered creature first concentrated briefly on his moving finger, then turned its attention back to the, apparently much more interesting, shoelaces. Norman tried to draw its attention back to himself and talked to it slowly, like a child.

Leo watched the whole thing for a while, his face impassive, until he suddenly burst out laughing. "The creatures were strapped to test equipment. Probably as guinea pigs. They're so stupid, you wouldn't believe it. Some joker once set up a metronome behind one of the buildings and tied a worm to the tip of the pointer. Two of the critters starved to death trying to catch the worm before the janitor found the thing."

Norman was about to point out that this was surely an exaggeration, but then he saw how the bird continued to try and eat his shoelaces. Somehow he could easily imagine the clumsy thing in front of the worm swinging back and forth.

"What kind of bird is that anyway?"

"We call them Homer birds. After Homer Simpson. Even if a third of the students here don't get the joke. Watch this." He gently nudged the bird over with the tip of his foot. Flapping its stunted wings wildly, it fell onto its side and then lay there, disoriented. As it did so, it made soft questioning noises that sounded like "Doh... Doh...".

The young architecture student bent down and carefully helped the bird to its feet. "Man, he's really not fit to survive at all. It can't fly, it just walks clumsily like a drunken turtle. It's a wonder they haven't died out long ago."

The Polish student rattled off as if he were reading from an encyclopaedia: "They're the same here. Raphus cucullatus, better known as the common dodo, was only found on the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. For centuries, the dodos knew no enemies. After passing sailors left some of their voracious pets behind and recognized the easy-to-catch dodo as a source of food, it became extinct around 1690."

"Why you would choose them of all people as..." Norman fell silent and quickly pulled his conversation partner around a nearby corner. He had spotted a familiar figure at the staircase to a neighboring building.

"What is it?" Leo peered cautiously around the corner and then pulled his head back again. "Oh, that Odwin. He made a great entrance this morning. What have you got against him?"

"Are you kidding me? He just threw me out of my room and put my suitcases outside the door. If Cerebrantis hadn't taken me in, I'd be sleeping on a park bench right now."

Leo was taken aback. "Cerebrantis? You're sharing a room with him?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Um... well... isn't he... a bit strange?"

Norman just looked at him uncomprehendingly. Finding someone here who wasn't strange was a considerable challenge.

"Forget it. It's okay." He was visibly looking for a new topic. "Shall we check the computer to see what classes they're taking?"

"You can do that?"

"Sure. There's one of the freely accessible computer rooms around the corner. There's one in every building. Free internet surfing and printing. Come along!". He led the way unerringly through the first floor to a busy computer room. The door was padded on the outside, but Norman was only surprised until he opened it. The room was filled with loud discussions between several students who had gathered around a few computer workstations. At the far end, the two found an empty workstation. Leo nimbly sat down in the office chair, while Norman plopped down comfortably on the desk next to it. "Well, let's see then." His fingers danced across the keyboard at lightning speed. The clacking of the individual keystrokes merged into a continuous rattling. Norman saw the individual menus open, close and change faster than he could follow the contents. "You don't think much of the newfangled invention of the computer mouse, do you? You haven't even touched the thing yet."

"Keyboard shortcuts are faster. I also know the menu sequence by heart. So, here it is: first name: Odwin; surname: son of Loki; I wonder if that's the ancient Germanic god of evil jokes? That would be really cool. His main subjects are 'Psychology with a focus on psychological warfare' and 'PR and public relations'. His minor subjects are 'Cult Founding for Beginners' and 'Comparative Religious Studies'. And as an elective subject he has... 'Biochemistry'? That's a pretty hefty choice as an elective."

Norman scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Maybe he wants to found a sect whose religion is based on drug use?" he speculated, without really sounding convinced.

Leo snapped his fingers. "Sure. I think that's it.". A few more keystrokes brought up a timetable. "He's canceled almost all the lectures and just picked the ones that have to do with the effects of chemicals on humans." He leafed through the timetable. "I'd like to have a timetable like that. No course starts before 9.00 a.m. and none lasts longer than 3.00 p.m. And no annoying gaps. I noticed that at least two courses had changed their times at the beginning of the semester."

Norman also looked at the whole thing over Leonardo's shoulder: "If he didn't bribe anyone to get it done like that, I'll eat one of Mr. Lupu's curry sausage specials. Including paper plate and plastic fork."

Leo didn't take his eyes off the monitor or stop leafing through the file as he replied: "You know Mr. Lupus? I haven't seen him for a year now, since he was banned from the university grounds after that little incident. How's the old poisoner?"

"He was still doing well last week. He's still selling all sorts of things from his mobile food stall. What kind of incident was there?"

"Ooch... nothing serious. He just tore a teacher's arm off after a discussion about the quality of his sausages. But he was able to reattach it without any after-effects."

"Arm ripped out? You're joking. He's not exactly weakly built, but he's certainly not that strong!"

"When he gets his werewolf rage, he could easily tear up a steel plate. Body parts are no problem at all."

"Werewolf?!?" Norman had to quickly hold on to the edge of the table with both hands to prevent himself from slipping down in surprise and landing awkwardly on the floor.

"Werewolf, of course. What did you think he got the facial hair from?"

Swallowing a few comments about hereditary diseases and genetic defects, Norman nodded a little sheepishly: "Sure. Werewolf. I knew that. I'd just forgotten."

"Sure you did. The veil probably made sure of that. It's pretty ultra how it ensures that no one around the university notices anything unusual. Don't worry about it. By the way, here's the timetable from our friend Cerebrantis. Nothing unusual, unfortunately. First name: Cerebrantis; last name: Sheldorn; major: advanced psionics, amplification methods and practical exercises for telepathy and telekinesis. Elective subject: Architecture. He just changed the latter yesterday. Seems to like you." He winked at Norman. He waved him off: "He's all right. You'd better see if you can find anything about Odwin's father."

"Ok." A few quick keystrokes later, Leonardo whistled through his teeth, impressed: "Hey, that's interesting. His father is listed here as 'Loki god of fire, mischief, cunning and shape-shifting'. If that's not impressive..." He continued typing. "And the mother... ah, here I have it. His mother is an American actress named Charisma Ca... Hey, isn't that the one from that cool American fantasy series?"

"That could be. I don't watch that much TV. See if you can find anything else about them."

A group of students who had gathered around the only workstation with a 20-inch monitor suddenly burst into loud cheers. Leo and Norman turned around and could just barely see the end of what was probably a pretty cool Counter-Strike maneuver. When Norman turned his gaze back to the screen next to him, he whistled appreciatively through his teeth: "Respect. You can do that without even looking."

Leonardo, who was still trying to make out the score on the screen despite the great distance, jerked around in confusion: "What are you talking about?"

"Well here"

"What do you mean?" Leo looked at the data on the screen. Numerous tabs with websites about the actress he was looking for were neatly arranged in the Internet browser. Arranged chronologically from the left, where there was a CV and pictures from her school days, to the right, where current newspaper articles were listed. Roughly speaking, it would have taken him at least five minutes to find everything, even at top speed. And then it certainly wouldn't have been sorted so neatly. He frowned: "I haven't done anything yet."

"And how does that end up on the screen?"

Leo let his fingers crack and set to work without a word. His hands danced across the keyboard at lightning speed. A few minutes later, he pushed the keyboard forward in frustration: "That's not possible!"

"Like what?"

"The history is not deleted, but the search queries are not saved. Nobody has accessed the computer except me. The websites just popped up without any reason. I have no idea how something like that is even possible! And it would have taken at least half an hour to compile such a neatly sorted dossier. Take a look at this, these are documents from her old school, you can't get to them via Google. And the latest newspaper articles are yet to be printed. Tonight!"

"Many newspapers publish their articles in advance on their website."

"These haven't been published yet."

"But it looks like a website."

"Yes, it does. But only here on this one computer." He asked the student at the terminal next to him if he could try something for a moment. The bored Berlin student, who was browsing through some forums, just shrugged his shoulders and wordlessly pushed his chair back. He quickly typed the URL of the newspaper article into the other computer. The corresponding website appeared immediately. Norman briefly compared the two: "Looks like a normal website."

"It wasn't a moment ago! I just called up the source code and it wasn't linked anywhere. It was just an article formatted as HTML text. And now... Now it's a normal homepage! I'm not stupid!"

"Maybe it's just the browser that's going crazy and only showing half of what's there."

"Unlikely."

"Do you have another explanation?"

Leonardo shook his head grumpily: "Let's call it a day."

*

Just as the two were leaving the room, the websites on both computers disappeared from the screen. The Berliner, who had just wanted to skim the article, was taken aback. He tried to find the article again, but gave up after two attempts when he couldn't find any results on Google. His mumbled derogatory "Crap computer. These things are just no good." was so quiet that only the small microphone of the webcam built into the screen could hear it. A fraction of a second later, his thesis and the scores of all his games inexplicably disappeared from his user profile. His Word of Warcraft account then disappeared. When he returned to his room two hours later, all he found was a completely empty room. Inquiries to the student administration revealed that the janitor had been given the urgent task of clearing the room after the student had moved out without taking his garbage with him. Of course, he was immediately reassured. His belongings had not been thrown away, but packed in boxes and sent to his forwarding address. At his expense, of course. Fortunately, he had left his address in Timbuktu by email.

Hectic phone calls to Deutsche Post AG's parcel service prevented all of his possessions from actually ending up on a cargo plane on their way to Africa at the last moment. Picking up the parcels at the airport and unpacking them again kept him busy for the next two days. Then he sat down again at one of the public terminals and tried to load his thesis...