Victoria Universe, Earth, Kingdom of Great Britain, London

Local date: October 9, 1799

Angus Connor slowly lowered the truncheon he had already raised ready for battle. Inwardly, he sighed with relief. Despite his Irish heritage and the fact that he was never averse to a good brawl, the gravedigger of one of London's smaller cemeteries was glad that he didn't have to use his oak truncheon this time. The guys who occasionally prowled around the cemetery at night were just too scary. Body snatchers and lunatics, mixed with a few young good-for-nothings from the working-class neighborhood. Cautiously, he looked around again. Weathered and new gravestones lined up one after the other, interrupted by the marble tombs of the wealthier families. A musty smell of rotting wood and fresh earth wafted across the cemetery lawn, which was damp with fog.

What he now saw in the dim light of the rising half-moon, however, was just a well-dressed man in his late thirties, standing peacefully in front of one of the large family gravestones and praying quietly to himself. Perhaps he was also lamenting to his deceased wife or father. Angus shook his head involuntarily. From the way he was dressed, he was obviously a lesser nobleman. He should have had enough time to go to the cemetery during the day.

And if the high nobility really wanted to come by at night, for example to hold one of those strange "Siehjahsen" that were so popular in high society, they usually registered with him. Angus had nothing against registered visitors. And he certainly didn't mind the generous tip he always received for discreetly staying in the background while the gentlemen got their much-needed dose of "creepiness".

The gravedigger stood patiently for a while longer, but as the cold London fog grew thicker and began to soak his cheap, thin clothes, he placed his cudgel against a gravestone and walked over to the strange nocturnal visitor. Although he made no attempt to be quiet, he did not react. As he came closer, Angus began to understand more and more of what the stranger was saying:

"...and now this Lord Argus has asked me to start teaching at his university. I realize that I can't get into any of the prestigious universities like Oxford or Cambridge with my specialty, but I don't like the fact that I've never heard of this Nexus University. However, I have been offered an opportunity to pass on my knowledge to future generations and I can't refuse. After all, I owe it to science!"

Angus cleared his throat politely. The stranger had obviously already noticed him, for he did not startle, but merely turned and looked at him questioningly with a slightly raised eyebrow. Now, up close, the nocturnal visitor was clearly recognizable as a nobleman. Well dressed, sharp English features, walking stick with a silver knob and a heavy signet ring on his hand. The gravedigger took off his greasy cap, held it slightly crumpled in front of his body with both hands and nodded humbly. He cleared his throat again and then said politely: "Excuse me, sir, but the cemetery is actually closed to visitors at night." Then he thought of something else: "And um... how did you actually get in? The gate is always locked at night."

The polite but condescending expression of someone who is forced to speak to the less intellectually endowed came over the nobleman's face. He calmly leaned on his expensive walking stick with both hands: "But my dear Mr. Connor. You let me in yourself. As you do almost every Wednesday." His voice took on a deep, almost hypnotic tone, while the gravedigger's gaze was lost in the nobleman's gray eyes, which were growing larger and larger for him. Unable to move, he stood motionless with his mouth open while the stranger bowed politely in front of the grave and said goodbye in a normal voice again: "Well, dear mother, our conversation has given me a lot to think about. I will follow your advice and look for a suitable match. I don't think I'll be able to come by for the next few weeks, depending on how this new, important task keeps me busy." He nodded politely once more in the direction of the grave and then turned to Angus: "I continue to be infinitely grateful for your discretion. Being in the cemetery at this hour could lead to unseemly gossip about my person." He pressed a small coin into the trembling hands of the stunned gravedigger. "You can now unlock the gate for me and show me out."

Angus put the coin into a pocket after only a cursory glance and hurried ahead of the nobleman to the gate, which he opened with his key and pulled open unnecessarily wide. It didn't even occur to him to do anything other than what the nocturnal intruder demanded. Resisting this voice, or even contradicting it, was unthinkable. The stranger gave him a friendly nod on his way out. "And remember: I was never here!". As he stepped through the gate onto the street, a parked hansom cab immediately pulled up to stop right in front of him. Wordlessly, he got in. Then the cab drove off quietly into the night, clattering over the cobblestones. The gravedigger wiped his sweaty forehead. He would never forget that night for the rest of his life. The way that guy had looked at him! Directly creepy...

*

Then the horse-drawn carriage turned the corner. Muffled by the fog, the sound of the horse's hooves echoed through the deserted streets for a few more excited heartbeats. The moment it was out of sight and the last hoofbeat faded into the mist, a veil seemed to cover Angus' vision. His face, shocked a moment ago, brightened into his usual carefree grin. As always, all was quiet in the graveyard and he had even found a whole shilling somewhere! After locking the large wrought iron gate securely, he turned and walked home, whistling happily to himself.

Meanwhile, the hackney carriage rattled quickly and unerringly through the streets of London. A few minutes later, it stopped in front of a magnificent Victorian-style villa. After the cabman had wordlessly opened the door for him and provided the footstool, the nobleman calmly stepped out onto the street and walked up the steps to the entrance. The ornate door opened immediately when he knocked. While the hansom cab picked up speed behind him to wait in its usual place behind the house, he entered his family's ancestral home.

A servant was waiting for him to take off his coat and ornate walking stick.

"Good evening, Sir Richard." The servant folded his coat neatly over his arm with a precise gesture practiced a thousand times and bowed briefly: "Your lordship's guests have already arrived and are in the drawing room. I have already taken the liberty of serving tea and pastries. I have had the gardener deposit the gardening tools which, for reasons I do not understand, the gentlemen thought they needed in the shed behind the building."

"Excellent." The nobleman rubbed his hands together expectantly and then strode gracefully over to the drawing room.

As he opened the large oak door with a flourish, he needed all his self-control to hide his astonishment. His guests had been announced as inquisitive students from a private university. However, he had not expected the group of just over a dozen people loitering in his drawing room. The style of dress was... strange. Some of it was reminiscent of the rough clothing worn by workers, especially the strange blue pants. However, the buttonless shirts with overly colorful pictures and incomprehensible inscriptions on the chest resembled nothing he had ever seen before. A plump, stocky girl with short black hair... short hair! had to wear the inscription "Slut", no doubt as a severe punishment from a teacher. Sir Richard did not dare to imagine what she had done to deserve it. It probably had something to do with her scandalous habit of wearing pants as a woman. And she wasn't even the only one in the group! Hiding his surprise well, he scanned the group with his eyes. How did he actually know the term "slut"? He knew what it meant, but where had he learned such an obscene term?

You must have read about it in the newspaper.

Perhaps he should be more careful with his choice of newspaper reading in future. Pushing the thought aside, he began his speech: "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Sir Richard and I have the honor of teaching you all the basics of the Dark Arts. Power over life, power over death."

While some of his students tried to slip as inconspicuously as possible from the tables on the edge of which they had made themselves comfortable, another put the bottle of brandy he had just been playing with back on its shelf. The lord managed to ignore this gracefully as well. The drawing room itself met all his expectations in terms of style and tidiness. His servants always made sure that it stayed that way. The wood-paneled walls with the ceiling-high bookshelves full of old writings and modern specialist literature on the south side were illuminated by the bright light of the modern gas lamps he had recently had installed.

The introductions were a little bumpy, but despite their very strange and disconcerting way of speaking, he got the names of all the students. He then had enough armchairs and chairs brought in to accommodate everyone properly. His astonishment at this strange group subsided for the most part when he learned that, surprisingly, almost all of them had the gift. The talent of magic was extremely rare and even rarer to be recognized and encouraged by those who knew it. Lord Argus had probably searched the lower classes of the major cities of many countries to find this group. Surely he had already hired other teachers who would take care of their atrocious manners. In any case, he would not disappoint his employer and would teach them what he had spent his life researching and studying. He stood proudly, upright and with his arms crossed tightly behind his back in the middle of the room and began his lesson:

"The first question we will ask ourselves today is: What is life? What is alive and what is not alive? What distinguishes a stone from a dog? Can any of you give me a definition of the term 'life'?"

The young man, who probably came from one of the Eastern European countries judging by his accent and appearance, answered promptly and confidently. There were no other hand signals. "Well?"

"Life has several sub-functions, not all of which are always present: Reproduction, metabolism, sensory perception, movement, regulation, heredity and evolution. Essential properties that must be present in every living being are reproduction, metabolism and the ability to mutate."

"An answer straight out of a textbook, if I'm not mistaken. Short, concise, plausible, but still not entirely correct. The universe can't check all these properties at every moment to decide whether something is alive or not. But there is one property that distinguishes everything living from the inanimate. The presence of an unmistakable energy charge, a kind of life force. There are countless names for this in different cultures, but I prefer the term Élan Vital."

He was met with incomprehensible looks.

"A power that defines life and permeates all life. Invisible, except through appropriate magic. The power surrounds us, it permeates us..." He raised an eyebrow in irritation as some of the students struggled to suppress a giggle and even started whispering further back. Leo took pity on himself and explained: "Excuse me. That was just the beginning of a very well-known quote from our homeland."

"Very well. The term comes from the French and means something like living enthusiasm." The gentleman hid his irritation well. "In the course of this course, you will learn various formulas and techniques with which you can perceive or influence life force. Rector Argus has also given me the honorable task of familiarizing you with the most important facts in dealing with such magic. It is no coincidence that this will be explained to you in your very first lesson. The following information is of the utmost importance! Spells that have a direct effect on the life force of a living being can very easily be fatal or have truly dreadful side effects. The three main areas of application where you will need to refer to the basics of this course are necromancy, clairvoyance and healing magic."

Sir Richard was pleased to note that he now had the undivided attention of his audience. And, surprisingly, none of them had felt compelled to make the usual invocations to the Lord or to make any gestures to ward off mischief. For once, there were also no cries of "Witchcraft!" or "Devil's work!" That had always been the case before. Truly a pleasant group. Well, let's see how the ladies coped with the following demonstration. He made sure once again that he had the bottle of smelling salts ready to hand in his pocket. "Harold, please bring in the demonstration table and the test animals."

The butler, who had already been waiting for his cue, came in promptly with a small serving trolley full of wire cages. The well-greased metal wheels barely made a sound on the thick carpet. Two other servants, groaning under the weight, carried in a heavy laboratory table behind him, which they placed at the end of the room. In the center of the table, an area was shielded by three large, thick crystal glass panes, the middle one facing the audience and the two shorter ones folded open like the wings of a triptych. The arrangement reminded the students of the protective glasses used to protect students in a chemistry hall from splashes and explosions during experiments, but here they had a completely different purpose. Finely etched runes and symbols were visible on the outside of the almost three-finger-thick panes when viewed at the right angle in the light. The top of the three disks almost reached Sir Richard's forehead.

"By the end of my lecture series, all those present who have the gift of magic will have learned a spell with which they can see the life energy itself. Until then, and of course to enable our theoretical scientists to participate in the lessons, we will use this construction to make this phenomenon visible to all. Now turn your attention to this rabbit." He opened one of the cages on the serving trolley and took out a gray-patterned young rabbit. As he held it behind the glass, a strong silver aura flared up around the animal as it munched peacefully on a blade of grass. The lecturer's hand and arm glowed much weaker, the rest of his body seemed to be behind the table outside the magic's area of effect.

"This luminous aura represents a solid boundary. A barrier that completely surrounds the body and holds the life energy in the body. Injuries, no matter how serious they may be, do not affect this barrier. If the body is injured, the energy also weakens until it finally goes out like a candle flame. But even then it does not leave the body. If you want to use this energy, you must first break through the barrier with an appropriate ritual and immediately use the energy that flows out in a spell. To date, no method has been developed to store it in any form. This energy is necessary for almost all healing spells, for example, which simply do not work without life energy. They can remove toxins from a bloodstream, kill pathogens or cauterize injuries in emergencies. But as soon as they actually want to heal wounds, they have to allow their life energy to flow into the patient's body. Or that of a suitably prepared victim, of course." He scratched the rabbit between the ears, lost in thought.

Norman leaned forward with interest to examine the silver auras. He raised his hand to indicate that he had a question. At home, he would have just started talking, but the lecturer here seemed to place a lot of value on good manners. And he didn't want to upset him on the first day.

"Yes? You have a question?"

"By victim, do you mean a voluntary donor? Can anyone do that?"

"Well, there are a few restrictions. But I have prepared a little demonstration here. These so-called 'balloons', a highly amusing new development made from an elastic sheath of gum arabic, were kindly made available to me by Lord Argus. With them, the whole thing can be represented very vividly. Let's assume this is the body of a magician. The air it contains is the life energy." He took a red balloon out of his pocket, blew it up and held the top closed with two fingers pressed together. "Now the mage uses some of its energy in a healing spell." He opened his fingers a little and let some of the air escape. Then he pressed them tightly together again. "Over time, the life energy will regenerate." He fully inflated the balloon again. "This kind of magic has some dangers. If the magician loses control..." He let go of the balloon. With a stuttering hiss of escaping air, it flew uncontrollably and wildly across the room until it came to rest on the floor in front of the students. Sir Richard strode forward with a measured step, picked it up, looked at it with mock regret and then threw it carelessly onto one of the tables. "A mistake like that can end in death at worst." He took another balloon out of his pocket and blew this one up too. "Imagine this was a non-magician." Norman had the feeling he was looking right at him.

"A non-magician has no way of influencing, opening or even repairing the barrier that holds his life energy. If it is broken through by external influences..." He plunged a needle, which he had probably taken out inconspicuously while his attention was on the balloon, firmly into it. The loud bang made the students flinch. "This energy could also be captured, but that is of course much more complex and complicated. I would like to make this very clear once again: Any extraction of life energy from a non-mage, or for that matter: from a mage who is not trained in it, and actively involved, will inevitably end fatally. You have been warned!"

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He took a dramatic pause to allow his students to process what they had heard so far. A highly attractive, slim blonde in the third row drew attention to herself by raising her hand. "You have a question Miss...?"

"You're welcome to just call me Jane."

Sir Richard frowned with distinction: "That would be highly inappropriate confidentiality." The student simply ignored his objection: "Anyway, what I wanted to ask is, do you have to injure the victim's body or can you extract the life energy from the aural shell just like that?"

"That's a good question. Theoretically, it is possible, but I don't know the ritual required. In any case, the formula would be extremely complicated and would have to be customized for each victim. The usual method is therefore a much simpler one in which a small incision is made in the palm of a voluntary magically gifted donor. And for involuntary victims, I recommend the traditional stab to the heart. Basically, however, the only important thing is that blood flows, as this is necessary as a conductive medium for the ritual."

Leo couldn't stop himself from blurting out immediately: "And what about vampires? Do they feed on the blood or directly on the life energy?"

A stern look met his eyes and made him flinch. After the lecturer thought he had made his disapproval sufficiently clear, he replied: "That depends on whether it really is a real vampire. They actually feed on life energy, the blood is only used for safe transmission. As should be clear from what I have said so far, the victim of a real vampire always dies. The body dies through the rapid extraction of its necessary energy even before it would die through pure blood loss. It is therefore the perfect medium for being awakened to undead life through a new infusion of life energy. However, there is only a very narrow time window for this transformation into a new vampire. If the body is dead for too long, it can only be turned into a dull and ever-decaying zombie."

Sir Richard quickly settled into a memorable rhetorical rhythm and began slowly pacing back and forth in front of the group: "If the attacker is a half-vampire, a so-called dhampyr, then it has a chance of survival. This is because dhampyrs only feed on their own blood. However, their victims are likely to be infected with a variety of diseases."

The student named Jane raised her hand dutifully and smiled faithfully at him. "Yes, Lady Jane?"

"How are dhampyres actually created? I couldn't find that in any of the reference books."

"The creation of dhampyrene is a... well, let's say, extremely unsavory matter that I am not at liberty to discuss in the presence of ladies."

When Jane tried to object, he quickly waved her off, turned around and began a lengthy lecture on the theoretical foundations of the following semester. She tried to interrupt him again, but he just politely pointed out that this was not part of the actual topic of today's class. As the lecture became more and more detailed, the first students began to take out notebooks and frantically take notes.

*

Leo, who was one of the few who listened with interest and attention and simply memorized everything important, felt a slight bump in his right side. Turning his head, he saw Norman's conspiratorial blink: "Shh... Check out that guy on the left at the end of the row." Leo did him the favor, saw nothing conspicuous and looked back at Norman in confusion. He grinned broadly: "Look at me. No, don't turn your head away, just look in my direction so you can't see him. Okay, now describe the guy."

Leo shrugged his shoulders in irritation. "What's this all about? There was nothing conspicuous. It was..." He indicated its size with a vague gesture and froze. He couldn't remember! Hair color, height, body shape... He couldn't remember a single feature of the student he had just looked at. And he had a photographic memory! He never forgot anything. Not a face, not a text. Alarmed, he turned around. The student had disappeared. When he saw Leo's confused expression, he also turned around quickly. He cursed quietly. "I only took my eyes off him for a split second. Where could he have gone?"

The two of them searched the room unobtrusively with their eyes. In vain. Leo quickly counted those present: "There were fourteen of us at the bus stop. Now there are only thirteen students left. One of them has left, I hope that doesn't cause any trouble... How did you notice that something was wrong with him?"

"I've tried to memorize the names and faces of all the course participants. No one has ever mentioned his name or called him out. And then I couldn't remember what he actually looked like."

Sir Richard's voice was quiet, but insistent enough to silence the two of them immediately: "I hope I'm not interrupting their conversation with my lecture."

Leo and Norman fell silent and both shook their heads. For the next three hours they followed the lessons attentively, then the group got back into the cabs. The driver of the frontmost carriage waited until they were driving through a neighborhood that was almost completely unlit and, at this time of day, also unlively. He gave the signal to stop and quietly muttered a spell. Fog billowed up from the ground and condensed around the cabs until you could barely see your hand in front of your eyes in the entire street. Only in the space directly between the cabs did the air remain clear. Then he took a small tin from an inside pocket and carefully poured the glittering sand into his hand. As the fog was not only opaque but also swallowed sounds, he was able to speak the next spell aloud. With the last syllable, he threw his hand forward and flung the dust. Like a small comet, it whizzed through the air, staying close together and trailing a glittering tail behind it. As soon as it hit the ground, it turned sharply to the left, as if guided by an invisible hand, and trailed a glowing orange-gold trail behind it. A straight line across the road. Then it shot up steeply and drew a large archway in the air. A flash of orange-gold light illuminated the fog, then through an opening you could see an asphalt road lit by the neon glow of modern streetlights. With a snap of the reins, the first hackney carriage started up again.

Leonardo, who hadn't noticed the ritual on the way here because he had been sitting comfortably in the cab, stuck half his upper body out of the side window this time and commented on the whole thing for Norman. He was also watching through the window on the other side of the cab, but hardly understood a thing.

"A portal spell. That was definitely a dimensional portal. I knew it was. That means we've traveled to a parallel world that runs behind ours in time. That's crazy. All this effort just to hold a lesson. That doesn't make any sense! The amount of Gallifreynium alone that we use every time. That's what was in the powder he threw. Everywhere else they're stingier than Scrooge McDuck with the stuff." "So it wasn't time travel at all?" Norman sounded visibly disappointed.

"Of course not. There is no such thing as time travel."

"How do you know that for sure?" Norman sat back down comfortably, while Leo continued to keep his head out curiously so as not to miss anything.

"Apart from a number of mathematical, physical and logical reasons, I know because the world is not ruled by time travelers. If someone could change the past, they would be virtually omnipotent."

"Didn't you once say that dimensional travel requires huge amounts of energy? I don't see any of that here."

"Magicians cheat. Perhaps the energy was also transmitted wirelessly to the cabs via a receiver."

"How does that work?" Norman hesitated briefly while he searched for the right wording: "With... magnetic induction?"

"You know that? I'm surprised."

"Sure. Our physics teacher at the vocational school found it really interesting. He entertained us for two hours with experiments. We had a lot of fun, especially with the lightning strikes from the Tesla coil."

"Well, it's a nice theory, but unfortunately it's wrong. Because then your watch would probably be scrap now. And your belt buckle would have melted. But you're close with the Tesla coil. We still have a prototype of Nikola Tesla's Wardenclyffe projector at the university. In almost all dimensional worlds, Tesla was one of the most famous inventors and metaphysicians of the mid-18th century. However, his wireless energy transmission doesn't work in most dimensions, but it does here."

"Why is that?"

"I have no idea. I can't deal with everything." Leo yawned profusely. "And I don't really care today. The main thing is that I get to bed soon. I haven't had a coffee for hours. Next time I'll bring a thermos flask. I could slap myself for not having thought about the fact that coffee is still very rare in this backward dimension. This timetable is killing me."

*

Thoughts flowed, flowed, rushed through each other like wild rivers. Perceptions and memories of hundreds of living beings in the university and the nearby city were examined, evaluated and sometimes changed. Thoughts in dozens of foreign languages were translated and passed on.

The consciousness that controlled all of this had no problem doing hundreds of things at the same time. If it had suddenly only been able to follow one train of thought after another, it would probably have died of boredom after a short time.

The telepathic currents reached out again and again. Some tasks the consciousness completed without even thinking about it, others were more difficult to accomplish. The group that needed monitoring at the moment presented an interesting challenge. They had not only moved away in space, but had also been transported to another dimensional level. Technical aids also allowed it to bridge the boundary between dimensions, but in previous attempts it had still often lost sight of its target mentally. It needed a focus that would join the group and that it could aim for. Disguised by telepathic illusions and influences, it had sent along a small mobile probe. However, one of the students had seen through the disguise despite all the subconscious whispers, which had required quick intervention. The group had noticed an additional student, but not the empty chair. After this change of disguise, the suspicious students' interest quickly waned. Following the group to the cabs would require another change of camouflage, but the awareness was sure to go unnoticed for the short distance. The cabs themselves were fitted with tracking devices and could not be lost.

Satisfied, the consciousness turned most of its attention back to other tasks. Sometimes it was surprised that hardly any of the students noticed that it could converse with all the others, even though many of them could not speak the same language. Consciousness translated everything and made everyone believe they were being addressed in their mother tongue. Of course, it also deliberately suppressed any thoughts on the subject. But nevertheless, someone should have noticed it much more often.

Now that most of the students were either asleep or at least entertained with reading, computer games and other activities that did not require his translation skills, the consciousness had capacity to make his work easier for the next few days. It selected a few dozen sleeping students and began to impress the German language directly into their memories. Every day his translations were needed less and less. Consciously and unconsciously, the students listened to the German language all day and continued to learn. After a maximum of two months, every student spoke fluent German. And when the conscious mind had time, it also provided those present with English. In the past year, however, there had been few opportunities to do so. The number of new students had been increasing for as long as it could remember. But the last three years had stretched it to its limits.

The kind of people who predominantly ended up at this university thought nothing of anyone or anything reading their minds. The cover story that the language barriers had been overcome by a spell had worked well so far. Awareness subtly supported the credibility of the story and suppressed any attempt to think about it further. Some newcomers had stronger than average barriers against telepathy, but they had no chance against the concentrated power of consciousness. And once it had managed to penetrate a mind, it could leave a kind of back door that would make it easier for it to enter the next time. No problem at all.

Just as it was concentrating particularly hard on checking the level of knowledge of some students who had just fallen asleep, it noticed a renewed strain on its own mental capacities. If the consciousness still had a voice and an airway, it would have sighed out loud. Not him again. This Norman's telepathic barriers were ridiculous. His intelligence was just above average at best. And yet he had been an annoying nuisance for years. He simply questioned everything over and over again. The simplest method of consciousness to steer thought processes in the right direction was based on the reinforcement of prejudices, subconscious aversions and similar psychological methods. Hiding the werewolf in the pedestrian zone of the nearby town had not been a problem for years. A subconscious aversion, suppressing interest a little and that was that. Until this guy started passing by on his way to school as a child.

The instructions from Consciousness were clear and could not be circumvented. No one in the town was allowed to notice the strange creatures that appeared here or the unusual abilities of the students. It had simply instilled an unconscious fear of the hairy, tall man with the sausage stand in other children - and that was that. Little Norman, on the other hand, had asked himself every morning why he should actually be afraid of this nice man. After all, he had never done anything to him. And he didn't look that terrible either. If it hadn't been for the almost permanent surveillance that prevented him from noticing and reading certain books in the library or watching certain movies, he would have unmasked the werewolf and at least one of the vampires in town years ago.

Consciousness had been surprised when the rector had accepted her proposal to let the troublemaker into the university without much discussion. Simply to free up mental capacity.

In truth, it wanted to solve a completely different, bigger problem. And to gain a certain degree of freedom. Norman was the only one within the veil's considerable range who met the rather exotic requirements.

*

After the trip to Victorian London, the students didn't arrive home until around 4.00 am. Norman trudged quietly through the corridors so as not to wake anyone at this late hour. He stopped at the door to the room he shared with his flatmate Cerebrantis. He would have had to use his student ID card as a key for all the other doors. However, his strange roommate had had the card reader removed. And, as he had just seen for the first time, he had also had an additional door handle fitted in the meantime. So that you really didn't have any problems opening the door. Well, Norman had nothing that was really worth stealing. So he just shook his head and quietly stepped into the room. Slowly, he understood why Cerebrantis had had a hard time finding someone to share the room with him. Hovering around the peacefully sleeping, lanky teenager were his alarm clock, a plush teddy bear and about three pairs of shoes. Norman had heard of the phenomenon of sleepwalking, but sleep telekinesis was a completely different caliber. Other people would certainly have worried about being struck dead in their sleep, but Norman couldn't for the life of him imagine the good-natured and peaceful guy harming anyone. Consciously or unconsciously. He crept quietly across the room, ducked under a floating teddy bear and snuggled into his bed. His mind wandered wildly for a while as he tried to relax despite his exciting experiences. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he suddenly heard a voice in his mind. He knew immediately that it was in his mind. And as if someone had flipped a switch in his memory, he immediately realized that he had been hearing this voice for most of his life.

Hello Norman, we need to talk.

"Who are you?"

You know who I am.

Norman hesitated for a moment, then nodded mentally. "Yes. But what are you?"

Does that play a role?

"It is for me. You're what they call the Veil around here, aren't you? The powerful spell that does pretty much everything around here."

You are welcome to call me that.

"There's no point in a spell debating with me."

I am not a magic spell.

"Then what are you?"

If I told you that, I would have to kill you afterwards.

"The joke is so old..."

I am not joking. I am compelled by irresistible orders to kill anyone who finds out exactly what I am.

"Okay. In that case, I can just about contain my curiosity. Can you at least tell me why this has to remain so secret?"

I can't give you any more information. Only if you were a part of me could I safely give you at least some more information.

"Part of me?"

I've always been a part of you. At least since you started thinking about your surroundings. What I'm offering you is to become a part of me too.

"And if I decline without knowing more?"

Then you will spend the rest of your studies asking yourself the same questions over and over again, finding the same answers and forgetting them again. Until the rest of your studies or until I lose my patience. For example, I could erase your memory of how to drive a car. Especially when you're speeding down the highway at 180km/h.

"You have a very convincing method of argumentation. But somehow I don't think you'd really kill me."

Not as long as I'm not told to.

Norman swallowed. That didn't sound very reassuring: "And if I accept your offer?"

You are not a telepath. Your mind is not prepared to receive large amounts of information telepathically. I would have to shield you from my information stream. A part of me will become a permanent part of your brain and a part of you will always be present in my total consciousness. You will not have access to my memories, my knowledge or my abilities.

"Where exactly is the advantage for me? Somehow I don't seem to be getting any advantages from it."

You may remember everything you want. You will know what I am, at least as far as I can allow you to know. I will still be able to translate for you and those around you, no matter where you are in the multiverse.

"Sounds good. How long can I think about it?"

For as long as you want. At least until you fall asleep. Then I will erase this conversation from your memory. The same will happen if you refuse.

"Couldn't you just ask me again tomorrow? I wouldn't know it's the second time."

I could do that.

"Wait a minute, have you ever done this to me before?"

Maybe...

"Really?!?"

No. This is the first attempt. If you accept my offer, you will learn everything I have ever changed in your memory.

"If I accept your offer, I'll never be alone again."

You were never alone.

Norman stared ahead of him for a while. Too exhausted to really think. Too excited to simply fall asleep. This was the opportunity to become something special. A part of something bigger. On the other hand, he had little to lose. He would allow someone to read his mind who had always done this and would probably continue to do so: "Okay. I agree."

Consciousness wasted no time. Norman felt a warm, pleasant presence in his thoughts. Then he fell asleep.