It took a second for me to recognize we were back at the Elpeck Bay Aquarium, especially because I’d never seen what it looked like behind the scenes, where the aquarium’s staff did their work with the animals.

Adolescent Ileene stood atop a metal grate beside a glass-walled tank—an outlet for one of the aquarium’s larger display units, sunken into the blue-painted concrete. The moist air was ripe with the stench of brine and echoing mechanical hums, and Ileene didn’t seem to mind them in the slightest.

I had to say, Ileene had the “rebellious teenager” look down pat. She made Jules seem downright obeisant. Only outright obscenity could have had a bigger contrast with Ileene’s school uniform than the gnarled, dark blue leather jacket hanging on her torso, or the glittery, indigo lipstick mashed onto her mouth. Her hair was outrageously short, and she had an earring in only one ear, and not even an earring, at that, but a neon pink plastic lanyard.

Yet the middle-aged woman at Ileene’s side couldn’t have cared less. Ileene’s memories held Dr. Gerta Earwicker in high esteem, and I could instantly see why. With her kindly, ever-so-slightly wrinkled face and short, bobbed hair-do and her eyes like beach dunes, the aquarium’s Chief Marine Biologist saw the young woman buried under the make-up and the stress.

Water filled the chamber with its words: its lappings, its splashings; the gush as it rumbled through the cyan pipes overhead.

“You’re sure you’ve got no problem with smelling like rotten fish for the rest of the day,” Dr. Earwicker said. “You’re not just brown-nosing little old me?”

“I’m not a kiss-ass,” Ileene said, with a smirk. She was frank as could be; there wasn’t an ounce of meekness in her bones.

“Well, gosh,” Dr. Earwicker said, nodding approvingly, “you got some real spunk in you.” The marine biologist grinned. “’Course, so does Hildebrand.”

Ileene watched as Greta bent down and slid the tank’s thick, weighty plastic lid to the side.

“There you are, you big baby,” Dr. Earwicker said, as rubescent, sucker-studded arms reached out from the tank’s churning surface, and even though they were limp and droopy when out of the water, they still flicked about playfully.

“Well, come on,” the marine biologist said, waving Ileene over.

Andalon was instantly entranced by the sight. Before I could react, she darted off to the tank, bare feet scampering across the tiled floor, plish-ploshing through the puddles.

I almost hissed at her to stay back, but ultimately decided against it.

I was not going to let myself kill a child’s sense of wonder.

The octopus’ soft, waterlogged skin brushed against Ileene’s arm; Hildebrand wrapped her arms around Miss Plotksy’s, curious about the latest bone-filled vertebrate to stick its arms into her tank. The suction cups’ touch was like a hundred little kisses dappling the girl’s skin.

Andalon skittered back, surprised by the strange creature—but not in a bad way.

Meanwhile, I felt Ileene’s awe along with her. Normally, she was weighed down by a never-ending stream of expectations and stupid, captious complaints about how this wasn’t right or how that wasn’t good enough—but now, all those were swept away, and wonder took their place. She didn’t need to be anyone, here. The slots could go slot themselves; boxes could arrange their own contents if they wanted. In that moment, she didn’t feel the need to blame herself for not having found a mold to fit into.

“I hope she’s not trying to eat me,” Ileene said, smiling earnestly. She looked back at Dr. Earwicker.

“Oh gosh, no!” Gerta waved her hand dismissively. “Hildebrand’s just feeling you up, in case you have any fish on you.”

“Why would she do that?” Ileene asked.

“‘Cause she’s a lot smarter than your dog—if you have a dog, that is—and she doesn’t care to pull her punches.”

Ileene laughed. She looked into the eye watching her from beneath the water’s shifting surface. “I like your style, Hildebrand.”

“Also,” Dr. Earwicker continued, “it’s also how a friendly cephalopod like her says hello to landlubbers like us. Those suction cups are basically little tongues. When an octopus touches you, it’s tasting you.”

Andalon looked up at the marine biologist, her eyes wide with delight. “Wowww…” She clenched her hands into excited fists.

“Does Hildebrand always do this when you feed her?” Ileene asked.

“Oh gosh, no. She only does this if you’re new, or if she likes you. Coleoid cephalopods can remember and distinguish between individual people. They can personally like or dislike you, and they will totally hold grudges against you if you deserve it.” The marine biologist nodded. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be giving the job of feeding Hildebrand to an intern like you, but ever since Fred and Enki tried feeding her with some bu’etl chip spicy cheese dust on their hands, Hildebrand has decided that human males are made of pepper spray, and aren’t the kind of folks that a civilized octopus hangs around with.”

Ileene smirked. “I think she might be onto something.”

“Ha!” Laughing, Dr. Earwicker patted Ileene on the shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re gonna do great here, Miss Plotsky. We don’t often get volunteers from kids your age. Usually, you gotta wait until they’re in their senior years at high school, then they come in droves, looking for a fun, quick way to get community service credits before graduation.”

I gasped slightly as resolution thrummed through every corner of Ileene’s body. Right then and there, the young woman made up her mind: she was going to be a marine biologist. These past few weeks volunteering at the aquarium had made that clear to her. It was finally an answer about what she wanted to do with her life. And yet… she still felt guilty.

Doing something just because it felt good? Just because you enjoyed it?

Wasn’t that sinful?, she wondered.

“Uh, Mr. Genneth…” Andalon walked over to me, plish-plashing across the water. She looked over her shoulder, pointing in alarm. “What’s going on?”

“Oh no. Oh no no no…”

The tank was overflowing. Water poured over the edge. It came forth in a torrent, rapidly filling the room. Ileene and Dr. Earwicker continued their conversation, unaffected by the laws of physics, even as the rising water lifted Andalon and I off our feet, along with plastic boxes and packages of frozen shrimp or shrimp.

The tide rose faster than I could swim, and we went under. I closed my eyes for just a second, and when I opened them again, my surroundings had melted away, until everything was open ocean. I lifted my head toward what felt like up.

Overhead, the Sun smiled upon the waters. Churning waves refracted light.

Flailing my arms, I kicked, swimming to the surface. I didn’t need to inhale as I burst out of the water, and though I looked and looked, flicking my arms to turn about, I couldn’t see anything to grab onto, let alone—

—Wait, no, in the distance, I could see the city. Elpeck’s skyline rose up. The short beaches smiled like the Sun. The rest of the city curved in a panorama across the horizon.

We were out in the middle of the Bay.

A wave rolled by, and swept me under, flipping me upside down. As I turned to right myself, one of my hands hit something light but solid. I instantly grabbed it, and then heard Andalon’s voice.

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“Mr. Genneth!”

Little hands gripped me, riding along as I pulled myself onto the floating platform. First I got onto my belly, then I pulled myself up onto my knees. I blinked and rubbed my face, clearing the brackish water from my eyes, and then immediately yelped in surprise.

I was standing on the water, with Andalon standing beside me. The water beneath me was absolutely ordinary in every way, except for the fact that I was standing on it. I moved as the surface moved beneath me, forcing me to widen my stance and stick out my arms a little to keep my balance.

And then, I noticed we weren’t alone.

Two surfboards floated beside us—beside one another. One was striped like candy corn, orange, white, and yellow. The other was a slender oval of carbon fiber disguised as a mass of cypress needles on a loamy forest floor, a mix of dark greens and browns. The surfers wore skin-tight swimsuits matching their boards’ colors. They straddled the boards beneath their legs, bobbing up and down with the gentle waves, letting them guide them wherever they willed.

Ileene’s sunset-orange swimming cap covered her short-cut hair; sprigs of Eyvan’s stylish brown bangs stuck out from the lip of his dark green cap.

“How could she do that?” Ileene said, vigorously shaking her head. She waved her arms in anger. “How can she be so blind to other people’s needs?” The young woman crossed her arms. “Maybe I should try and push forward, just to spite her.” Ileene looked over to her boyfriend. “Do you think I could do it?”

Eyvan pursed his lips.

“I could get a job working at the Aquarium,” Ileene explained. “I need to check to see what they pay their tour-guides, but I can’t believe it’s that bad. If you add to that the wages from working happy hour at the bar, tutoring high school students in math and science, and then factor in the loans—even if it is a fourteen-percent interest rate…” But doubt weighed on her. “I could manage. Couldn’t I?”

“If you ask me,” Eyvan said, making the Bondsign as he glanced up at the Sun, “the real question is: would you want to? You’d be borrowing against your present, and your future. And, even if you could see it all the way through to the diploma at the other end, would that really be worth it?” he asked. “How would you even begin to pay off the debt?” He stared her in the eye. “Please, Ileene don’t do that yourself. You deserve to make it to the other side of the rainbow.”

Ileene’s lips trembled. She covered her hand with her mouth. Fresh, salty tears mixed with the Bay’s brackish water.

“But what else do I have?” she asked.

“You could be a wife,” he said. “A mother.” Eyvan smiled encouragingly. “And don’t deny it—you know how often you’ve mentioned it.”

There was a moment of silence. “I want to prove her wrong,” Ileene said. “I want to be better. Better than she was to me.”

Gulls flew by, cawing overhead.

Ileene looked up at the noise, and then shuddered. “Better than whatever you’d call the current mess that I have in place of a life.” She looked down at the sea. Her gaze passed right through Andalon and I, but she did not react. “I want a child,” she said, “that way, both of us would get to know what it means to have parents that love you for what’s worth loving in you, and for what you can become, rather than just keep chasing after the mirage they’ve made over who they want you to be.”

“Ileene…” I said, “your parents love you. I’ve seen it.”

In all my years, I’d never seen a surer sign of love than someone who willingly suffered for the sake of another’s happiness, and without the slightest expectation of anything in return, not even acknowledgement. Love could fight, it could be angry, stupid, callous… even catastrophic; sometimes, love came through a lens, refracted, tinted, not quite clear, but none of that mattered, so long as that selfless compassion abided, jewel-like, in the depth. They’d just be cloudy mornings, passing away as soon as the sun shined.

But Ileene didn’t hear me.

“You’d be the perfect mother,” Eyvan said. “You’d give your family the love that yours never cared to share with you.”

Was the water that surged from the octopus tank Ileene’s guilt? If so, perhaps she and I were caught in a kind of tug of war. Or maybe the better example was a hand-caught fish flailing around in my hands; her tempestuous memories kept trying to slip out of my control.

Reflecting on my experience so far, I decided to take a page from my time in Greg’s mind-world. I wasn’t as far along in my changes as Greg was, so whatever mental abilities I currently had were probably little more than shadows of his own, but maybe—just maybe—they’d be strong enough to put me in control of the situation.

Focusing on Ileene, I pictured her turning to look at me, staring through the proverbial fourth wall.

“Your parents love you, Ileene,” I said, “I’ve seen it.”

Like magic, everything froze: Eyvan; the gulls overhead; even the water’s ebb and flow; everything, except Ileene.

She pulled off her swimmer’s goggles and stared me in the eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

With the waves having stilled, I could stand up tall, no longer needing to worry about my balance. “I can prove it to you.”

She crossed her arms and scoffed. “Oh, really?”

“We’re in your memories,” I explained. “Not even you can deny that.”

Ileene scowled. “Then get out of my mind,” she said. “You’re not welcome here.”

I tried to keep an even keel. “It’s actually the other way around,” I said. “We’re in your mind, which is inside my mind, and,” I glanced at Andalon, “I’m pretty certain we’re stuck with one another for the foreseeable eternity. But, more importantly,” I put on my best stern-looking expression, “until I’m strong enough to block you out if need be, I can’t have you running amok with my waking thoughts. I do have a job to do, you know.”

Speaking of which: could I count this whole surreal experience as working overtime? Therapy was completely legitimate, even if it was often ludicrously over-billed. I smiled at the absurdity of the thought, but only for a moment, and then, Andalon’s words flitted across my thoughts once more:

Saving people means putting them inside of you, Mr. Genneth; inside of everyone I can fit them in. They live on inside you all, in a happy place. A big happy place. It’s where the saved peoples get to be; they’re there forever, safe and sound, instead of in Hell with the darkness.

Suddenly, those words took on a new significance. Here, and in Greg… there really were worlds inside my head. I needed to find a way to make peace with the ghosts within me. And, in here—in this mind world—I had access to unparalleled tools.

Maybe I could make it happen.

I looked Ileene in the eyes. “I can’t change your mind for you, Ileene,” I said. “Actually,” I muttered, “at this point, maybe I could.”

Andalon tugged at my sleeve, and I looked down at her. “No, Mr. Genneth,” she said, locking eyes with me. “You don’t get to do that. Souls gotta make their own choices.”

I turned back to Ileene.

“Like I said, and like Andalon said…” I shook my head, “I can’t change your mind for you. But I can show you. I can help you remember.”

No matter what her formative years had been like, I couldn’t deny what I’d seen her parents do; how they doted on their invalid daughter; how remorse ate away at them, even as the lights in their minds were fading, one by one. If suffering for another was the surest sign of love, a lack of remorse was the surest sign of love’s absence. I’d given therapy to patients like that: people who only ever saw the world through the lens of their self and their instantaneous wants. Callous people who abused their so-called loved ones, and then felt bad not for what they had done, but because their victims had been audacious enough to lash back at them. I was far too familiar with that type of personality, and, for what it was worth, I hadn’t seen that in Ileene’s parents—at least, not yet.

That meant there was hope.

Now, if only Ileene could see it.

Wait, no. There was no if, here! I could!

I can!

I was pretty sure that, like in Gregworld, I could make things appear inside this mind-world of mine. However, I didn’t want to do that; I didn’t want to show Ileene what I’d seen. She wouldn’t feel that; she wouldn’t know it as experienced truth.

No, I had to show it to her.

Like before, I imagined a pair of curtains in the air, and grasped their invisible edges with my fingers. I focused on the memory I wanted: Ileene’s parents caring for her after her lobotomy. She’d seen it in her blank stare. Focusing on that thought, I pulled the curtain open. This time, the curtain was the sky itself. Elpeck Bay and the city’s skyline crumpled up and whisked off to infinity at either side of the horizon. But as the curtain drew back, instead of a memory, we were met by an empty void. Andalon and I floated in gray static.

I tried again. The gray static crumpled as I drew the curtains once more… only to reveal yet more gray static.

Then Ileene’s disembodied voice spoke: “What are you doing?”

“It’s not working,” I grumbled. I scratched my beard and ran my fingers through my hair. “Why isn’t it working? It worked before.”

Blinking, I skimmed through my memories, flicking through the events of the past few days like they were pages of a book. Then, with a heavy, trembling sigh, I stumbled onto what felt like an answer.

So far, there had been multiple signs that even if what was happening to me and to Ileene and the whole darn world was supernatural, it wasn’t fully beyond the scope of logic and predictability.

Ghosts were uploaded only if you got sufficiently close to their bodies shortly before, during, or after their deaths. It also happened when transformees ate people, but, even then, they only got the parts that they ate. The transformees were communicating with Andalon via statocysts in their heads. The transformation and powers used large amounts of energy, and demanded a great deal of fuel. Wasn’t that what physicists called conservation of mass?

And Ileene… she’d been lobotomized.

“I bet it’s because of the lobotomy,” I muttered.

“Lobotomy?” Ileene asked. She looked at me like I was crazy.

With the kind of damage a lobotomy could do to the brain’s frontal cortex… it made sense that any memories formed afterward wouldn’t come through in quite the right way, if at all. That also had some pretty interesting and problematic implications for the mind-body duality problem that lurked in the background of me talking to a ghost uploaded into my mind, but I could fret over that later.

What did it entail for the nature of the soul if a souls’ memories could be impacted by something as mundane and corporeal as brain damage?

I could ponder that later.

Instead, I focused on the next best thing: Ileene’s memory of her lobotomy. I checked her soul’s memory inventory. It was there, sticking out like a sore thumb in the last clear stretch before the turbid gray void set in. Then I drew the curtains one more time, and the memory opened to us.