[Greyson – 10 years] → begins before Chapter 56 and takes place during it

I use magic to sanitize the bathtub and plug, then fix the plug in. Then, I dump into the now-empty tub the entire box of crystals I brought with me. The crystals resemble Epsom salts in size and shape but have a faint blue tint to them rather than looking white. There's quite a lot of the magical crystals as it's necessary for the special type of bath. Once the box is empty, I set it to the side, then pour in the carefully-measured blue-colored bubble soap. Magic is used to get all of it out, then the cup is set to the side.

Next, I turn on the water and let it run until the bath reaches a specific height, the bubbles forming a dense layer three inches thick on top and fully covering the water. A small touch of magic made sure the water coming out of the spout was the correct temperature, and the crystals will make sure it stays that way.

I quickly undress, then lower myself into the water. Actually doing that is a little bit difficult but I manage it and float within the center, not on top, of it. Truly, perfectly in the middle, completely surrounded on all sides by the water.

The specific temperature of the water combined with the magic in the crystals prevents any thermal sensation for me. The magic of the dissolved crystals also prevents sound from traveling through, or even the feeling of the water. Just a weight, pressing in all around me. The bubbles on top and the dissolved soap for them still within the water completely neutralizes my empathy's ability to reach out.

Here, now, I have no sensations apart from those within me. No external stimuli at all. A perfect, peaceful realm where the fears of the world do not affect me. Magic within the crystals allows me to breathe without water getting in me, but even that is not fully necessary when I am in this state.

Isolation tanks? Bah! Those are candles to a sun when compared to my version. This is true sensory deprivation… and it doesn't take long for the visions to begin.

Green triangles interlocked with each other. Others dancing across my view. Blue squares drifting by. Red circles rotating as they float across my vision. Yellow four-pointed stars fading in and out. A purple starburst which forms in the background, larger than all other images. A magenta-

A hand suddenly pulls against my back, forcing me into a sitting position. Pain shoots through my head as some of my senses hit me back in full and the vision itself is interrupted. At least the hand was low enough that it wasn't touching my shoulders, dealing with the pain is already too much.

"I'm in the bath!"

"There's a three-inch layer of bubbles across the entire surface of the water," Cal is giving me a disapproving look for some reason and the effects of the bubble soap is still affecting me somewhat because of the water on me and bubbles on my head, so I'm not sure why. "Even with me pulling you up. It always shifts to adjust for movements, as strange as that is. Magic, I guess. And also, until two years ago, I'm the one who gave you baths or made sure you'd cleaned properly. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

All fair points, all fair points.

"Why are you interrupting it?" I ask. "It hasn't been that long! I get two hours when I do the float bubble session! And you all use the toilet when I'm meditating, so it's not like you have to stop me!"

Unlike when it's just a normal bubble bath. They're semi-allowed to interrupt me for those since I'm not meditating.

"Only because we can't see you and you can't see us," Cal says. "And that's not what this is about. It's also already been over an hour, anyway. Greyson, I looked up information about dreamsages-"

"You could've just asked me."

"And gotten your censored version so I don't learn certain things?" Cal snorts. "Yeah, right. It wasn't easy as dreamsages are apparently somewhat rare and not documented all that well. What you said is that you can walk through dreams or eat them to recover your own mana. What you left out is that you're also able to easily affect them in other ways."

That should have been obvious by the name alone and also the magic type involved.

"Any mind mage worth their affinities can do that," I huff. "You interrupted my visualizing the universe for this, Cal?"

"Yet influencing dreams comes to dreamsages quite naturally," he says. "And one of those powers is creating and forcing dreams. You're responsible for Henry's nightmares."

"Excuse you?" I glare at him. "I do not make him relive his trauma! That's all on his own brain! And I'm not going to eat them so he has good sleeps. The only nightmares I eat are Xander's, if he sleeps around me and is having bad dreams. That's because he deserves good dreams, unlike that brat."

"You're a brat, too," Cal says. "And I'm not referring to the trauma-based nightmares, Greyson. I'm referring to the other nightmares. Like the ones he had last night, which resulted in him crawling in my bed at two-thirty this morning. The only reason I didn't wake you up after connecting the dots was because you wouldn't wake up no matter how hard I tried."

Trying to wake a dreamsage while he's in someone else's dreams is like trying to wake a god when he wants to sleep. I was playing with octopuses in Travis's dreams at about that time. We were playing beach volleyball and I was somehow losing and had to put on a top hat.

"Those aren't nightmares," I say. "Those are just annoying dreams. It's not my fault he's terrified of math equations that sing themselves to him."

Seriously. How is that even the slightest bit terrifying?

"Want to know what made me realize that was you doing that to him?" Cal asks.

"Me saying what they were?"

"The fact that they always happen the first night you and Henry sleep in the same house after he antagonizes you," Cal answers. "He called you an arrogant know-it-all during dinner and then had another one of those nightmares last night."

"First," I say. "It's not arrogance if it's not an inflated sense of self, it's just awareness of what you are. I am a nigh-unstoppable mage talented in many fields with a vast array of knowledge and a level of magitech genius and skill which exceeds nigh any other. It's not arrogance to view myself that way, it's accepting reality. Second, he was calling me that because I answered a question I was asked and he didn't like that I gave additional information."

"Stop giving Henry annoying dreams," Cal tells me. "If he realizes that you're the cause behind them, he'll get even more annoying."

"Maybe he shouldn't be annoying in the first place."

"Greyson," Cal says. "You're the smart one between the two of you. Do the smart thing and stop now, before it makes the problem worse."

I huff.

"Manage it for a month," he says. "And I'll buy mindwave meat and fix you something with it each day for a week."

While doing that on my own would probably exceed the allowance I'm being given if I still want to eat at my normal rate off of my allowance, it's even better if someone else does it. And Cal's got a job and saves decently so he can afford to do that, too.

"Okay."

"Now," he says. "Before you go back to whatever you were doing… we always thought it was some weird thing you liked doing to relax since you usually seem calmer after, just with a little magic to let you breathe and float in the middle of the water rather than at the top of it. That the drops you gave me to let you know when it's time to stop were just some strange magic signal you decided on."

He narrows his gaze.

"What was that about visualizing the universe?"

"It's a true total sensory deprivation bath," I tell him. "Not those fake ones that only semi-do it. The magic crystals and the bubble soap creates an absolute sensory deprivation experience which even blocks my empathy. They also enable me to float in the exact middle and maintain the temperature of the water for up to thirty hours. Through this method, one is able to visualize the universe's flows and receive visions of what once was, what currently is, and what will one day be. Or at least, I do… I'm not sure about others. The drops create a magical disturbance in the water, which I can feel. And when you suddenly pull me out like you did, it causes some of my senses to return in full and abruptly ends the vision. That's really painful, Cal."

"Sorry," he at least looks like he's feeling guilty. "Could you let me experience your version of a sensory deprivation tank once yours is done? See if I get the visions, too?"

"No," I answer. "Because after mine is done, I'll be eating breakfast. This tub is too small for you to do it in, too. You have to have at least two inches between you and the sides or ends and you won't. But I can make a bigger one with my magic at the workshop after breakfast… as long as you promise not to look at anything else."

"I promise," Cal says.

"Okay," I say. "I'm returning to it. And the two hours is reset because you interrupted it for no good reason!"

I sink back down before Cal can say anything, then wait for the visions to return. They do fairly quickly, though I guess the lack of ability to properly tell time like this means it might not actually be "quickly".

This time, the visions are different.

Green triangles interlocked with blue circles. Red squares spinning as they circle around my field of view. Opal seven-pointed stars interlocked with each other. Sea green rectangles dancing with fuchsia octagons. A giant purple starburst fading in behind everything.

On and on the images come, their appearances and movements slow but sure. Just as the lapis pentagons begin their flips, there's a disturbance in the universe. An oddity that's out of place. Another one happens and the shapes ripple. Only once the third oddity and ripple occurs do I realize that it's time for me to stop.

I slowly sit up, allowing my senses to come back to me slowly as I look at Cal, who's putting the dropper cap back onto the black vial bottle.

"Want to share what you gleaned from your visions?" Cal asks.

"Nothing really useful for me," I say. "Most of it's really useless stuff or things I learned in prior vision baths. Oh, but Xander's apparently messed with the flow of the universe again. I get that he's a god and all, but it can be really quite annoying when he just randomly changes things. There's a balance, you know? And Xander's just sometimes like… nope! Don't like it! And then the weather forecast changes. There was only supposed to be some light rain a few times next week but now there's going to be a thunderstorm Wednesday night."

"There's no rain in the forecast," Cal tells me.

"Well, yeah," I say. "But how accurate can that be when magic can make things change at any moment? Trust me, the visions are a way better way to predict the weather since reading the flows of the universe is way more accurate. Not that the weather matters to me, but it's almost always one of the first things I get when I meditate and visualize the universe. How I know Xander went and messed with the universe again was because the forecast changed between the readings today. Only a god could make things change that fast and it's always the weather that gets affected when Xander decides to change things. I think that's really what he's doing – changing the weather. Though it's weird that he'd make it storm, he hates storms. I would've expected him to make it not rain. Or make it snow. He loves snow."

Maybe he's accidentally affecting the weather? I always thought he was casting all those spells on purpose but he wasn't. It's possible that he's subconsciously interfering with the flows of the universe in order to make concrete changes to the weather.

Which would actually be really cool, now that I think about it.

"So… what sort of other things did you visualize?" Cal asks. "Or learn? You said it's not useful to you?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "Why would a leviathan deciding to mess with some of the planes and boats traveling on the Atlantic Ocean affect me? Or a demon invasion south of Boston? That's getting cleaned up quickly, anyway, so it's even less relevant. I first learned about that six months ago, too. Really annoying I keep getting that particular bit. The universe should let me see something useful in its place. Though I guess the information about spatial magic I learned is good to know, so there's that. Okay, so I learned one useful thing."

"You learned something about spatial magic?" Cal asks.

"Yeah," I nod. "It relates to pocket dimensions, too, and that's something I like studying how to make. It'll be really useful. I only got a fragment of information but if I study it, I might be able to learn something really useful. It's nothing like the session which taught me how to manipulate time. That wasn't a fragment at all."

"O…kay," Cal doesn't seem to know how to respond to that and he probably thinks I'm just making stuff up or imagining things. "Make sure to rinse off the suds after you drain the water, both from yourself and the tub. Then get dried and dressed. I'll let Dad know you're ready for breakfast."

Topic change. Of course he decided to do that, he couldn't understand what I was saying.

"Thanks!"

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[Xander – 12 years]

I'm really glad I looked at the spell Greyson uses to avoid being noticed when he teleports around, but also looked up the legality of it. As it turns out, his spell is super illegal because it affects the minds of others in a way not permitted by law.

So I modified the spell using some stuff I researched and made a legal version of it. Instead of interacting with the minds of others to prevent them from perceiving me, it prevents me from being able to get registered by a mind. I'm not influencing their minds, I'm simply not noticed by them in the first place.

The fact that it's not illegal because I might be the first to do a spell like that both worries me and excites me. Worries me because if I get found out, I might still get arrested despite the spell being legal. Excites me because it means I came up with a spell that's either never been done before or is so unknown that it's not been recognized by the laws.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I hope I'm the first because that would mean I've done something big and cool.

The building I teleported to after leaving S.G. at the park resembles a slightly-overgrown mansion and it's set into some of the woods around town. It actually is overgrown, but the taller grass that's visible from the rusty-looking gate, the ivy on the walls and metal fencing surrounding the property, and all of the other run-down and overgrown-look is deliberate. The metal of the gate only looks rusty, but it's actually an alloy that can't rust.

It's fake rust.

There's powerful illusion and mind magics on the property, but it's done in a legal manner. This is something they call a "youth sanctuary". It's a government-approved facility with special licensing which allows it to have enchantments not normally allowed in order to protect those who come here.

Such as the mind magic which makes it impossible to actually perceive people who come here unless you've got permission to. If someone were to follow me here when I walk here, they'd completely forget they were even following me in the first place once they get within a certain distance of the property.

Normally an illegal magic, but allowed because of the license this place has.

I'm not really sure how the spell works to do that, and how it differentiates between two people who happen to both be coming here and a person who's following another with ill intent, but it does.

Only a few moments pass after I appear at the gate before it silently swings open. There's an invisible camera with someone always watching it, just to make sure youth can be let in when they arrive. They're not allowed to leave the security station unless someone else is there to take over for them.

The gates close behind me after I pass through and when I reach the front doors of the building, I open one and enter. Even though the mansion is huge, there's no large lobby like Mr. Trey has. The interior of this place was renovated a little bit and is more of a cross between a school and a youth center.

To the right when I enter is a desk with a couple of men sitting behind it and several monitors. They have two guards at the desk today, it seems. That's rare and probably means something happened and they're upping security until they're sure things are calmer.

"Hey, Xander!" One of them greets me. "Sorry we didn't notice you approaching. How've you been? It's been a little bit since you were last here?

"Hi, Phillip and Ezekiel," I greet them. "A lot has happened since I was last here."

They might look like they're normal guys in their early thirties, maybe a little bit on the buff side, but they're actually security guards. This whole facility is meant as a sanctuary for youth dealing with depression, abuse, and other stuff like that and they can even lie to the police about if someone is here.

Only youth and approved adults are allowed on the property and if someone manages to force their way in… well, they're like Mr. Trey's security – most of the ones here are former magic special forces. Now that my brain's not broke anymore, I might even remember stuff like that more often.

"I'm sure," he says. "We already let Landon know you're here, he's on his way up. He was monitoring some of the kids in the gym. He said he wants to talk with you."

Landon's usually the one who talks with me if I don't show up for awhile, so I'm not surprised by that.

"You seem happy," Ezekiel, the other desk worker, says. "We were all a bit worried. Did you try taking your life again, but got some treatment instead?"

"No," I answer. "I got a new home and I'm really happy there. I made some friends, too. They're really nice."

Even if they scare me sometimes, like S.G. did after seeing me use magic not even ten minutes ago.

"Oh!" He smiles widely. "That's great to hear, Xander! So you don't need to come here anymore, then?"

"I don't feel fully safe there," I tell him. "I'm still allowed to come here, can't I? Or do I have to stop now that I'm happy sometimes?"

"You can," he says. "This place is to make sure the youth who visit it feel safe, after all."

That's a big relief, because that means I can still come here if I don't feel safe, not just when I'm feeling horrible and want to die or disappear.

"Have you done anything new since you were last here?" Phillip asks. "Anything exciting?"

"I made friends," I nod, but my answer makes them laugh for some reason. "Did… did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all," Phillip says. "Other than make friends, have you done anything new or exciting since your last visit?"

"Oh," I think on what could be a good answer for this, it's probably a test of some sort. "I learned how to swim. I'm still scared of water, but I've been getting help with overcoming that fear. He's really noisy, though. Not noisy like me when I'm comfortable but an energetic kind of noisy. And look, I'm putting on weight. If you squint, you can even see my abs starting to get defined. That's a good thing, because it means I'm getting healthy."

"You can put your shirt down, Xander!" Phillip laughs. "You don't need abs to be healthy."

"The healthiest people I know all have abs."

"Hello, Xander!" Landon greets me as he comes around a corner. "It's good to see you again! And you're looking happy, too!"

"I am happy," I tell him. "But I sometimes feel unsafe or depressed, and I really wanted to be somewhere safe. So I came here."

"I'm glad to see you're doing well," he says. "I'd like to talk with you for a little bit."

Just as I expected.

"Okay."

I follow Landon up to the backyard, which is neatly-kept and has a few youth hanging out back here. We then go to one of the gazebos set a little bit away from the mansion and sit at the table set up in here.

While this might not seem like a great place to have a discussion, the gazebo is enchanted with a muting spell. We can still be seen by others, but we can't be heard. That only works so long as the volume is low, though, as it won't mute yelling specifically in case something happens and someone starts yelling.

Which makes it a good spot to talk about things in private with an adult but not be alone with one. Half of the gazebos out here have those enchantments.

Landon pulls a deck of cards out of one of his pockets and starts shuffling.

"We've been concerned about you ever since you stopped coming here at the end of May," he tells me. "And since you never told us where you lived, we weren't able to do a wellness check and make sure you hadn't had another suicide attempt."

I start to say something, but Landon holds up a hand to signal for me not to speak.

"That said," he starts putting the cards on the table in rows, face-down. "Back at the start of May, I was contacted by a man who wanted advice about a boy he was looking into fostering. A boy with severe PTSD, Autism, and potentially other issues which would complicate being raised. The boy came into his care at the start of June, and we've been in regular contact ever since. While he never gave me the name of the boy, most of the things he's asked me about or mentioned align with what I know of you. Am I correct in that you're being fostered by Trey Caldwell?"

"But you're not a therapist?" I say. "Mr. Trey said he was talking to a therapist named Landon. You're just a supervisor. And he doesn't know about this place."

"I'm a supervisor here," Landon tells me. "But I'm also a licensed psychologist specializing in adolescents, with my main client base being wealthier families, particularly mages."

He puts a finger to his lips.

"But we don't bring up that there are actual therapists here," he says. "It makes some of the youth uncomfortable due to past experiences with others. Some have figured it out, but they don't tell because they've realized why we don't."

"But you can't be one," I was looking in his eyes and know that he's telling the truth, but that really can't be. "You don't tell me how I'm stupid and why I'm doing stuff wrong and what's wrong with me."

"Because that's not what a professional is supposed to do," he says. "The job of a psychologist, for the purposes of this discussion, is to help someone recognize what mental issues they're dealing with and learn how to deal with them. Like you and your aversion to bananas for an unknown reason.

"I'm doing my job right," he continues. "If my clients facing depression are able to use what I talk with them about to find ways to feel better or cope with what's going on, if a client who feels as if things outside of their control are their fault, and other stuff. In your case, I've been working to help you heal from your trauma. It's been tricky, but I did make progress some progress. The first time you were here, you'd scream and disappear if an adult came within ten feet of you. We'd find you naked and buried under pillows, blankets, and cushions in one of the quiet rooms. Well, we'd find a big pile of those in there with your clothes outside of them, but that's close enough. Do you remember what I did, the first time that happened? I know you've got a bad memory on things that aren't repeated enough times, or which you don't consider significant."

"Not anymore," I tell him. "I had really bad brain damage and that was why I had a bad memory. But my brain's all fixed up now."

"Really?" His eyebrows lift up. "Do you mind if I ask how it got fixed up?"

"Lumaria King stuff."

Grandpa Adrian told me that if it comes up and I don't want to answer, to just say that and it should get them to drop the subject as most people will accept that as an answer.

"Oh," he says. "I'm guessing your new dad reached out to them to see if they could help and they healed it with their magic?"

"Something… sort of like that," I say. "He did reach out, and my brain is fixed now. But it's not quite that. So my memory's better now, but not for the stuff from before that happened last Saturday. I don't really remember what you did the first time… or the second… or the third… or how many times that happened."

It probably happened a lot, though. I always felt safest here like that when I first started coming here. Even now, I might still hide myself like that if I get too uncomfortable, whether here or at Mr. Trey's house.

When I do it at Mr. Trey's house, he just lets me know to come out when I'm ready and I'm not in trouble for panicking… if he finds me. I think he's figured out that I go into my closet for it, though, since he's found me pretty fast the last few times.

"I sat outside of the pile you were under," he says. "And just talked to you in a calm and soothing voice. I didn't know yet what your fears were so I didn't know that was making it worse for you, but I told you about the birds we see outside sometimes, some of the activities we have for youth here, the snack room, the hiking trail behind the facility and the creek which flows by it, and more. I told you that you didn't have to come out if you didn't want to and that you could stay there as long as you liked, as long as you at least had your pants and underwear back on before leaving the room. The full nudity then did tip me off that you might have textural sensitivities and I figured out after a few meetings with you that you were Autistic, too. I tried to make sure you knew you were fine and not in trouble, and it was okay to be scared and hide if you felt like it when you were here."

Landon chuckles a little.

"I think you fell asleep either while I was talking or after I left," he tells me. "You emerged from your hiding spot about four hours later looking quite sleepy. You kept jumping if anyone fourteen years or older got too near you and would bolt backwards a little, and that's how we figured out that it was an adult walking right up to you that probably triggered your first event. It took me a few months of talking to you, giving you space, and talking with you for you to eventually feel safe elsewhere here other than under a pile of pillows, cushions, and blankets.

"At the same time," he says. "You started being calmer around older people and stopped being scared entirely around those who were fourteen to sixteen. That was one of the things I tried working with you on. A lot of progress has been made since then, too.

"That," he says. "Is what therapy is supposed to do. Not tell you what's wrong but to help you figure out what's causing you stress and either how to stop it or how to overcome it."

"Sort of like fears like drowning?" I ask. "I got help with that."

"Sort of like that," he flips over one of the cards, having finished setting them down while talking. It's a 7 of Diamonds. "Do you feel comfortable telling me about your new home? I know Trey's perspective of the situation with you since he's been asking for advice from me as a therapist, but I want to hear how you feel about it and him."

"How much are you going to tell him?" I ask as I flip over a card, which turns out to be the Jack of Spades. I flip both cards back over. "Is that okay to ask?"

"It is," he flips over another card, the 6 of Clubs. "And nothing, unless you give me permission to. Everything you say to me in our discussions stays between us unless it's necessary for your safety for me to tell others. And anything you say or do here stays between us with the same exception. All of the staff here are under confidentiality agreements."

"Oh," I say as we continue flipping over cards, with him doing one and me doing one, then me flipping them both back over. "Um… I like living there a lot, but I'm worried that I'm too much trouble for Mr. Trey and he's going to send me back."

"From my conversations with him about you," Landon says. "It very much sounds like he cares about you and is concerned. You probably don't need to worry about that, though I know it'll take more than me saying that for you to feel that way. Let's do another question: is there anything you dislike about living with Trey?"

"Yeah," I nod. "The house is waaaaaay too big, in my opinion. I haven't gotten lost yet, but I'm really worried I'm going to and end up locking myself in a closet by accident. And there are so many security guards around, too… they're not all inside but I can tell they're there. Though Roderick lets me look at his gun and stays nearby when I'm having classes so he can shoot the teachers if they try to hurt me, and Mr. Franklin is super nice. That's the head of security. And Mr. Quinn is my driver if I want a driver for something and it's not Mr. Trey taking me places. He lets me look at his gun sometimes, too. There are more than just them, though. Mr. Trey owns a security company and has guards making sure his property is safe and secure and that unwanted people don't show up."

"I see," Landon says. "So there are a lot of security guards there, but it sounds like you like them?"

"They're all really nice," I tell him as he flips over a 7 of Hearts. "Even the scary ones."

The 7 of Diamonds was… this one! I was right and now have a color pair, so I move both cards to the side.

"That's good," he says. "Is there anything else you don't like about living there?"

"The room Mr. Trey assigned me is on the second floor."

"Have you told him that heights scare you and even being on the second floor makes you nervous?" Landon asks.

"I haven't."

"Why not?"

"He put a lot of money into making the room good for me," I tell him. "Renovations and everything. Even if he didn't, he assigned it to me. Telling an adult I don't like the assignment is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

"Depends on the assignment," he says. "Are there bedrooms on the first floor?"

"Yeah," I answer. "But Mr. Trey and Ms. Katie both live on the second floor."

"Ms. Katie?"

"His live-in chef that he's in love with and who loves him back," I explain. "Though they refuse to admit that they're in love with each other even when they're looking in my eyes. And they know I can tell. Mr. Trey told me this morning that 'it's complicated', which I think is just him not really having a reason and not liking that I'm right. I didn't get into trouble, but he's probably upset with me… anyway, she's got her own room. It's across from him. And the one the security guards use if they need to sleep after their shift is done and are too tired to go home or whatever is on the second floor, too."

"Could you try something?" Landon asks.

"Try what?" I ask as I match another color pair and move to them to the side.

That's four pairs of the same color and number now. I'm doing this faster than normal, which is definitely a sign that my memory is better now. Or at least, my really short-term memory.

"Try letting him know you're scared of heights," he tells me. "And that while you can't see that you're higher up, being on the second floor makes you nervous. That you feel like the floor is going to break and you're going to fall through it."

"But what if he gets mad at me?"

"Would you want to live with someone who gets upset at their kid having a fear?" Landon asks. "Or would you prefer to live with someone who acknowledges their son's fears and tries to help him with them?"

"Someone who doesn't try to make me eat my fears."

"You mean someone who doesn't try to force you into them?"

"Yeah."

"Where did you get 'eat' from?"

"I don't know."

Landon laughs a little at that.

"So aside from how big the house is," he says. "How many people there are around, and your room being on the second floor, is there anything you dislike about living there?"

"There's not."

"What do you like about living there?" He asks.

"How much food there is to eat," I tell him. "I can eat anytime I want, even at night. Sort of. It depends on what I want to eat. And I don't have to share a room with someone else. Nick was nice and all, but it's even nicer that I don't have someone else in the room. And I got to learn how to swim and not be too afraid to get into the water, and Mr. Trey's hired a couple of professional teachers to help me with fitness and trying to get caught up on academics so I can be ready for the eighth grade properly. There are lots of peaches to eat, too. He bought part of the peach orchard that was behind his property when it was shutting down and I'm allowed to eat peaches from the trees whenever I want. And he's got a big theater room where I can watch documentaries…"

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[Greyson – 10 years]

"What's wrong with Cal?" Dad asks. "Isn't he supposed to be getting ready for work? He starts at noon."

I look at Dad, who's dressed ready to do owner stuff at his restaurant. He's probably on his way out and his confusion definitely comes from the same thing which resulted in his question: Cal still being in shorts and a sleeveless and just sitting on the couch staring off into space with an unfocused gaze.

Apparently, he's more concerned about that than he is the device I'm working on. The first question is usually "Greyson, what are you making?"

"He's currently processing the visions he had from the true total sensory deprivation bath I gave him," I inform Dad. "The good news is that he now believes me when I say that I use it to visualize the universe."

"And the bad news?" Dad asks.

"He'll probably need to call in sick to work," I say. "It's a lot to process if you're not used to it."

Cal slowly turns his head to meet Dad's gaze.

"I saw the birth of a world."

"Yeah," I nod. "I usually see that at least once or twice in a two-hour session. It's not very impressive after the hundredth time."