Astronomical complexities spun through the lab, perceivable only to mind readers. Methodologies, heuristics, radical equations, and mental diagrams whipped back and forth between Mondoyo and Serette, their layered ideas processed faster than any computer.

Thomas was the maestro conducting their orchestra. He shaped their thoughts with enhancements, tear-downs, and alterations.

He had never dared to imagine that innovation could happen this fast.

Serette and Mondoyo didn’t need words, spoken or written. Words would have slowed everything down painfully. But they replaced some of Thomas’s best theories with solid science. Together with Thomas, their enmeshed brains formed an ultra super ternary mind. It was all just.…

Well. It was indistinguishable from magic.

The door alert chimed.

? ?

Thomas was surprised by how late it had gotten, and how tired he was. Evening clouds had sailed in. He had spent all day sitting in this sunny lab, inventing an entirely new branch of neuroscience. They were on the verge of finalizing a breakthrough. Soon, Evenjos would have nothing to fear. Soon, Ariock would be utterly invincible in battle. Remnant groups of Torth would melt away, unable to compete, unable to reverse-engineer the immunity pills, since they had largely driven away their own scientists.

Nothing could stop the heroes. The conquest of the Torth Empire would become irreversible.

Incredible. Thomas could imagine the mental voice of his chief lab assistant, almost as if Varktezo was orbiting his mind. Heh.

Thomas stood. It still felt unnatural to stand, instead of rotating his hoverchair. I will take this as my cue to get going (appointment with Ariock).

  I need a break as well

 Thank You for spending time with Us

It was My pleasure

 Later

  See You

Parting thoughts flashed within a millisecond as the ternary mind broke apart. Thomas understood the Twins’ wordless expressions, laced with subtext and nuance which carried loads of data. He understood, for instance, that they respected and valued his mind, just as he admired the Twins more than he could ever express verbally.

He walked towards the door. He didn’t really care who had rung the chime in order to visit. It was past time for him to leave. He should eat dinner before he went on a scheduled outing to build monuments with Ariock.

He supposed he was just desperate for ways to take his mind off the loss of the Megacosm.

Over the past few days, Thomas had worked his way around to seeing the loss as a net positive. The old Megacosm, despite its glorious cosmic harmony, had been a forest choking off sunlight. Its lushness had poisoned anything new that might grow in its stead. The thicket had been beautiful and intricate and worthy in its own right, but it had also been repressive and dark, suppressing new ideas, new innovations, and new ways to exist cooperatively.

It had had to go.

But the loss was still painful.

Serette and Mondoyo grieved for the Megacosm as much as Thomas, and more. Mondoyo took microsecond-long mental breaks. Serette hyper-focused. That was how they mourned.

They also missed their colleagues more than Thomas did. None of them had met their intellectual peers in person, but that hardly mattered. Mondoyo and Serette had absorbed public and a few intimate life experiences directly from their fellow ripe super-geniuses. Thanks to his close working relationship with the Twins, Thomas now carried the Rind Topographer, the Geodesic Flux, the Spin Overture, and others inside his soul, as much as he carried the Upward Governess.

So many dead and gone.

Super-geniuses were now the equivalent of a critically endangered species. Thomas was painfully aware of how few survived. He wasn’t a victim, per se, but he was … well, maybe he was a little bit more lonely.

At least he had saved Nea.

At least he could keep Serette and Mondoyo protected.

He was aware that a rogue faction of Torth had managed to smuggle a pre-sentient infant out of a baby farm. No one knew the baby’s whereabouts, gender, or whether it was still alive, but it was rumored to be a super-genius. Thomas could hardly navigate the cosmic remnants of high telepathy. There were millions of minicosms.

The cosmic grandeur was gone. The galactic harmonies were gone.

They were just a bunch of isolated cults.

Thomas walked past Varktezo. His chief lab assistant sat at a workstation, engrossed in holographic displays. He wore a turtleneck tunic; the latest fashion for ummins. His new girlfriend, Ounzong, must have bought that for him. It made him look sharp.

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Ooh, thanks! Varktezo emanated friendly gratitude.

Thomas stopped in his tracks. He glared.

(Oops!) Varktezo was full of intrusive (sorry Teacher!) knowledge.

Thomas had not even noticed Varktezo turn on the emitters. That was the thing about telepathy gas. It was insidious. It had no smell, no taste, no texture, and three telepaths enjoying an intense scientific mind meld could not even detect it.

“How many times have I asked you to not use telepathy gas around me or the Twins?” Thomas said. “It’s rude.”

But it’s so wonderful (useful)! Varktezo argued. I just want (a chance for equality) to listen in on your ternary Mind.

The stuff was a hazard as well as rude. Telepathy gas reflected Thomas’s mind control power right back at him. If he tried to zombify someone? He would wreck his own mind. If any enemy Torth were smart enough to be able to locate Thomas right now, they could teleport here, and he would be unable to twist their minds; unable to defend himself.

Varktezo wasn’t even worried. It’s like viewing a sunset watching a symphony hearing an ocean, he thought in a stream. I want to participate!

Thomas sighed.

He remembered his first impression of the Upward Governess. She had seemed like a goddess of knowledge, dazzling and incredible and impossible to ignore. That was, more or less, how he appeared to Varktezo right now.

He hated it.

“Please stop.” Thomas had already begged Varktezo, more than once, to quit using telepathy gas around super-geniuses. Would he have to make it a fireable offense?

!!! Please Teacher, I meant no offense. I just learn so much this way!!!

Did spying really count as learning? Varktezo was a voyeur. He basked in the cascade of excess experiences. Lots of lab assistants would have done the same, if they’d had access to the right equipment plus knowledge of how to use it, but that didn’t make it all right.

None of us needs orbiters. Thomas replied without using his voice or opening his mouth.

I’m not your orbiter. Varktezo was indignant. I’m just listening in.

Thomas silently pointed out that “listening in” meant eavesdropping, which meant voyeuristic spying, which was exactly what orbiters did. Ergo, Varktezo was an orbiter.

Thomas sensed faint traces of amusement from all the way across the room. He should not be able to overhear the Twins’ moods at all from this distance. Ugh. Telepathy gas spread everything too far. It was nasty, like fog.

“Please turn off the emitters,” Thomas said. “And never use them again when you’re around me. I mean it.”

Varktezo mentally grumbled. He got up and ambled towards one of the triangular emitters, but he dawdled. He didn’t want to lose his fount of knowledge.

Losing knowledge hurt so much.

Thomas understood that. He didn’t think he would ever get over the destruction of the Megacosm. He would grow old yearning for it. Trillions of mind readers would miss it forever, and they would sadly tell their kids and their grandkids and their great-grandchildren about the galactic marvel that used to exist.

But homogenous groupthink was dangerous.

The Megacosm should never be allowed to arise again, even as a ghost of its former glory.

Thomas thought that Ariock should outlaw telepathy gas. They needed to eradicate the stuff from existence. It had too many dangerous implications.

Eradicate it?! Varktezo glared at Thomas. Oh, so you want to ensure that only natural-born telepaths get to hog all the advantages? Forever?

The door chime sounded again. Thomas ignored it, shaken by what Varktezo had thought.

Was he subconsciously being elitist? Was he trying to ensure that Torth remained in power? He could see how Varktezo read the situation that way.

But really, he just didn’t want to facilitate the formation of cults of personality.

Thomas shot his thoughts to Varktezo in one lightning quick pulse. There is a reason we still punish mind readers (penitents) if they mentally link up in a group of ten or greater.

Kessa had the right idea, trying to prevent minicosms from forming. It was already too easy for disgruntled penitents to ally without ever meeting, via a temporary minicosm. That was sure to happen again and again. Telepathy gas raves were just as bad, enabling people to turn into mobs.

You (and Kessa) are trying to stop an avalanche, Varktezo thought. You are trying to stop the weather.

Maybe.

Well, Thomas had a friend who could literally stop the weather. Whenever he and Ariock teamed up, nothing was impossible. Together, they would figure out a way to discourage people from forming dominant-group mobs.

He hurried towards the door. Perhaps the visitor would be Ariock?

Or Kessa. Now that Thomas’s fling with the Pink Screwdriver was working its way through the rumor mills, his friends were hearing about it. He expected Kessa, Vy, or maybe even Evenjos to drop by soon.

What would they advise?

Should he dare to see the Pink Screwdriver again? Did he even want to?

Thomas tapped the door opener, so preoccupied that he did not give himself a chance to scan who was on the other side. The Pink Screwdriver was loads of fun, and she was ultra hot. The problem was that she apparently didn’t value privacy nearly as much as he…

!

Cherise.

! !

Thomas stumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet. Someone caught him and steadied him. Varktezo.

Blood rose in Thomas’s cheeks before he could even think about why, or how to stop the painful blush. Here was Cherise, more radiant than he had ever seen her, wrapped in a vermillion cardigan, with turquoise and silver in her hair. Her amber eyes were piercing and sharp. Not only did she see Thomas; she saw his soul.

His naked mind.

His massive, abnormal, freakish mind, on full display in all its crazy weirdness.

Oh, and he’d been thinking about screwing the Pink Screwdriver.

Cherise had absorbed that whole thing. Because the room was full of telepathy gas.

Why did she have to surprise-visit him right now? Thomas fervently wished he hadn’t answered the door so impulsively. He wished he hadn’t opened it at all.

Cherise turned and ran.

Thomas clung to the doorframe. His ineptitude was obvious. He was no good for someone as wholesome as Cherise. He didn’t deserve her. He deserved screw-ups; former Torth like himself, who could blunder along with him.

? Varktezo clicked his beak in consternation. Don’t you (Teacher) believe that nothing is impossible?

Thomas hesitated. If he chased Cherise, he would be a monster chasing an innocent victim.

In what universe did he imagine it was possible for an emotionally nubile human and an emotionally stunted Torth to get together? He was infantile compared with Cherise. And anyhow, she could definitely outrun him. Thomas had built up some adolescent strength, but he was no athlete.

“Oh, just go after her!” Mondoyo said out loud.

Serette’s mental voice was thoughtful, as if bogged down by intense calculations. Emotional nuances were still a deep mystery to her. She’ll be waiting, I guess? Does she want an apology? I’m not sure why.

Mondoyo began to explain.

Meanwhile, Varktezo gave Thomas a friendly shove. “Stop being an idiot. Go after her!”

Full of doubts, Thomas jogged down the corridor.