Mr. Whitworth, what do you have to say for yourself?

“I did what I had to do to ensure the safety of this city’s citizens.”

So you wouldn’t call that a psychic overreach as defined by the CEOR?

“The CEOR has clauses that describe when such measures are appropriate, particularly when mental influence was already in place.”

On an individual case-by-case basis, Mr. Whitworth, we’re familiar with the CEOR too. Yesterday, you put thousands of people to sleep. That’s unheard of.

“We had a parallel operation taking place to round up the bad actors in this city. These riots have all been a distraction.”

A red herring, sir. You violated the privacies of the city’s people, and you’ve broken several laws on psychic responsibility.

“Ha…”

This is no laughing matter, sir.

“You’re not afraid. None of you are. You pretend to be outraged on behalf of the city. But if you were scared I might harm you, you wouldn’t stand here like this with that kind of tone. You all know I had no other intention but to protect this city. So I’m safe to ‘grill’ for your asinine stories.”

No one’s questioning your loyalty as a heroic affairs director. But the essence of democracy is a thorough reflection on those who make decisions on our behalf.

“So what’s your question?”

Why did you do it?

Amelia groaned at the television.

“They will pretend to be angry, there will be a hearing, and then the school will get a slap on the wrist,” she said. “Meanwhile Langshir Hold gains a couple hundred inmates.”

Carrie nodded. “Bet they’re happy,” she said. “Lots of new gifted criminals to design cells around. Fat expansion contracts all around.”

“Here you go again with the conspiracy theories,” Penny said. She was rifling through drawers, searching for something. “But I’m glad you’ve found some common ground.”

“What are you looking for?” Amelia peered over her shoulder.

“My board game,” Penny said. “School’s out for a couple of days.”

Carried smiled excitedly. “What are we playing?”

“Catan,” Penny said. “Just missing the USBs for expansions fourteen to thirty-two.”

“It is better like this anyway,” Amelia said. “There are too many mechanics and-”

“Amelia where did you put them?” Penny said. One of her brow arched sharply.

“Nowhere!”

“Amelia?”

“I did not hide them!”

“I was asking if you misplaced them, but now…”

Carrie smiled at the sight. It felt like a long time since they had some rest. A lot has happened over the past few days. But that was life in a gifted world. Sometimes the whole world felt like it was crashing down, the price of living in a civilized world.

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She left those two to their play quarrel and walked down the bedroom corridor. Lyssa’s door was ajar. She knocked anyway. No response. She opened it into a disheveled and empty room. The sheets were on the floor. Textbooks were scattered about the desk, along with a book Lyssa must have borrowed from Amelia. It smelled off. Like sweat and stress and… confusion.

She rushed to the living room.

“Has anyone seen Lyssa?”

They stopped their fighting.

“Carrie, she is a big girl,” Amelia said. “You have to be less protective of her.”

“No! I mean-”

“We spoke just the other day,” Penny said. “She seemed fine. Better than usual, actually.”

“Right,” Carrie said. She remembered. Maybe she was imagining things. Her gift gave her an exceptional sensitivity to moisture, but it wasn’t exactly forensic science.

“I’m sure she’s just out for a walk,” Penny said. “Come sit. Amelia won’t tell me where she hid them-”

“I did not-”

“-so we’ll have to make do without unit formations, child labor camps, and battleships.”

“Hoist the mainsail! Set the crossjack!” Lyssa shouted.

“Aye!” Toadsworth responded. “You heard the captain! Get a move on!”

Her crew of crickets and amphibians heaved rope and spun cranks. They fought the turbulence at every turn. The Dream Chaser rocked them like an impatient nanny, yawing, pitching, fluttering loudly in the storm, but it stayed on course.

“I see it, Madam!” Shouted Ladpole up on the crow’s nest.

A geyser penetrated the chaotic sea, a misty green among the verdant waves.

“Finally, we have come upon the accursed beast,” Lyssa said with a snarl. “Ready harpoons!”

The sky could fall for all she cared, she would not miss her quarry again. Months spent chasing the blasted thing. How she hated it. And now they were so close. She could see the rich black color of its gleaming back breaking the film of the water. Its belly was a myriad of colors, mixed so perfectly it was impossible to tell where one began and ended. A horrifically beautiful thing. And it would be all hers.

“By Neptune I will have you!” She said. “Fire at will!”

Her crickets clicked as they pulled their triggers. The harpoons sighed into the wet wind as their hooks raced through the air and planted firmly into the body of the animal. It screamed the cry of a thousand children. A palette of blood spilled into the green seas. The Dream Chaser jerked.

“Here come the trials, captain!” Toadsworth said. “Beware the rage of the Allwhale!”

And the sky caught fire. The waters boiled. Leaping flames crawled up the ropes of the harpoons like gold serpents. Crickets burned, their manic clicking sounding all over the deck.

“Rein her in!” Lyssa ordered.

“Beware the isolation of its loneliness!”

The waves turned grey, swirling around their ship, cutting them off from the verdant chaos. Lyssa stepped onto the deck herself. She shoved a crewman aside and shot another harpoon squarely into the body of the whale.

The animal screamed again. Its curdling cries settled into the foundations of their boat like mold. But the grey walls fell and the sea returned.

“Beware its hate, its resentment!”

The animal glared from its many eyes, a seething beam of hate colder than ice washed over the ship just as a large wave slammed into its side. The water turned to ice, gripping the ship’s sides in place.

“The flames of my ambition burn hotter than rage,” Lyssa said. From her fingertips unfolded beams of heat. They sheared away the shelves of ice.

“It’s stressed, Madam,” said Ladpole. “It’s trying to run, it’s melding into shadow!”

“I can practically see its spoor,” Lyssa said. She grabbed a harpoon and struck it deep into the darkening waters. The end met resistance. A hot geyser of water and blood threw her onto the deck.

“It’s doing something, captain!” Toadsworth shouted as he peered over the gunwale.

A wave of stillness blasted against the ship. Harpoons misaligned. The sails tore. The crewmen fell against the deck. All these vectors played out in full before Lyssa’s eyes; it was hard to miss a single detail in the slow motion with which it all occurred. Then the seas bubbled, time quickened, and the whale shot a beam of pale fire out of its fins. The ship was dragged along at its own pace. Lyssa could see the ropes fraying, the harpoons trembling, threatening to recede from her quarry’s flesh.

“No!” She shouted. “You are mine! You are all mine!”

“Captain!” Toadsworth said, placing a webbed hand on her shoulder. “It’s not worth it.”

“What?”

“Don’t do this.”

She tore away from her first mate. In a single bound she had leapt onto the gunwale, then off the ship in the next. Her feet landed on the bloodied back of her quarry. She looked into its eyes, its many faces. The faces were all hers. The smile faded from her lips.

“I don’t understand,” she said. But the whale arched its back, flicking her into the air. Its face opened into rows of baleen and closed over the sky. The Dream Chaser became without command and without direction. Eventually it faded from memory altogether. All that remained was the green sea and its vacuous laughter.