It began, as most stories do, at an incredibly inconvenient time.

Three in the morning, to be precise.

Alex Quinn, college freshman and borderline insomniac, was lazing on his couch. He had one eye on his textbook, and the other was watching the television. It was currently showing some reality show. A cooking competition, he thought– or was it a dance thing? He hadn’t really been paying attention to what he’d turned on before flopping down on the couch. Alex turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of a man in checked trousers and an abnormally tall chef hat moonwalking whilst whisking a bowl of cake batter. He blinked slowly, decided to not question it, and turned back to the textbook in his hands.

It took approximately three minutes for him to groan in frustration, drop the book onto his chest and press the balls of his hands against his eyelids. He could feel a migraine coming on, a dull pain grasping at the edges of his temples.

“That’s enough science bullshittery for one night, I think,” Alex mumbled aloud to himself. He dragged his hands down his face and reached absently over with his left to grab the remote control. He rolled over and was about to thumb over the ‘OFF’ button when he paused.

Oh, fuck me.

“Val? You up?” he called, pulling himself into a sitting position but keeping his eyes fixed on the remote, which was currently hovering about a foot off the coffee table in front of him. There was a brief kerfuffle from somewhere to Alex’s right, and then one of the bedroom doors opened. A messy head of dark brown hair popped out, followed by a short girl in sweatpants and a tank top with various stains on it.

“’m on video call with E. What’s up?” Val asked, brandishing her phone. On it was an image of her twin brother, Elias. The brunette on the screen waved, and then did a double take.

“Val, what the fuck is that?” Elias’ voice crackled from the phone. Val, half asleep, looked between her brother and where his finger was pointing at.

“E, don’t be rude. ‘That’ is Alex. He looks a little worse for wear but-,”

The interrupting sigh that Elias let out was longsuffering. “Not Alex, you absolute ingrate, the fucking thing levitating in front of him.”

Val narrowed her eyes at her brother in sleepy confusion before turning her attention back to Alex and the remote he was still staring at in mild horror. When she focused on it, she swore under her breath.

There was a thunk as her phone hit the floor, followed by Elias demanding, “Valerie, pick me up right now and show me what the hell is going on.” Val dropped into a crouch and picked the phone up without looking, pointing the screen at the coffee table.

Alex silently reached up and pinched himself. “Ouch. Okay, not a dream.” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “You’re both seeing this too, right? I’m not just hallucinating due to lack of sleep?”

Val nodded slowly, now fully awake. “Floating TV remote, check.” From her phone came a flurry of keyboard clicks, and Elias hmmed.

“According to Google, shared hallucinations are rare. And I’m literally halfway across the globe so it’s probably not gas-induced.” He informed the pair, leaning forward on his desk and eyeing the remote with concern. “D’you two live near a particle collider?”

Val lifted her phone to stare incredulously at her brother. “Elias.”

“What? It was a genuine question.”

Alex bit down on his bottom lip, trying to ignore the migraine that had well and truly sunk its claws into his skull. “I did it,” he admitted, to which the twins both simply tilted their heads in confusion. “Let me try something.”

He tried to imagine the feeling of moving his arm without actually moving it, grasping onto the remote with his mental hand. Alex pulled back slightly, towards himself, and let out a shriek when the grey plastic device abruptly jumped a few centimetres in the same direction he had tugged.

“Holy shit.” Elias breathed. Val took a heavy seat on the couch beside Alex, running her free hand through her hair. “Since when do you have telekinesis, Alex?”

“Since about five minutes ago, apparently.” Alex responded, deadpan. He noted, with curiosity, that his migraine had abated slightly when he moved the remote.

“We are going to the emergency room. Right now.” Val declared, dropping her phone into Alex’s lap, getting to her feet, and not-quite-running to her room. She emerged a moment later, yanking her college hoodie over her tank top. She grabbed her phone and waved two fingers at her brother, who still looked mystified. “Elias, I’ll give you a call back…later?”

“Yeah. Cool. Good luck with the superpowers, man.” Elias said, reaching over and disconnecting the call.

Val turned her attention to her roommate, eyeing him warily. “Alex…can you drop the remote?”

The newfound telekinetic narrowed his eyes at the remote and pictured his mind-hand-thing releasing the remote, which dropped onto the rug with a muffled thump. Val pulled him up to his feet and over towards the door. She patted her hoodie pocket and retrieved her car keyfob, then opened their apartment’s front door.

Alex silently pulled on his shoes and made his way out of the door, muscle memory guiding him to the apartment block’s elevator. Val locked the door and shuffled after him, typing something on her phone with her spare hand.

“Okay, bud. Symptoms?” she asked, using her elbow to push the G button of the elevator control panel. Alex stared at himself in the mirror - he still looked the same. Shaggy not-quite-black-not-quite-brown hair falling over hazel eyes. Deep purple bags showcasing just how little he’d slept in the past week. His skin was dull, and he could see at least two pimples forming on his chin. Alex wasn’t entirely sure what he expected. Don’t superpowers usually make you look cooler? he thought dejectedly. Val coughed, and Alex turned his attention to her.

“Symptoms? I mean, I can move shit with my mind, Val. What other symptoms do you need?” he asked, folding his arms. Val tsked, eyeing him disapprovingly. “I have a migraine. But I’ve been staring at books and computer screens since nine this morning, so that might not be related.”

It is definitely related, Alex thought. This is bad.

Val nodded but typed on her phone regardless. “True, but they’ll want to know everything that’s wrong with you. Any other aches or anything?” Alex shook his head as the elevator dinged, doors opening to reveal the underground parking lot. Val headed out to her car – a small, white electric thing that looked like a light breeze could break it to pieces.

Her name was Mountain Dew Barrymore (named after Val’s drink of choice and favourite vintage actress, Dew for short), and Alex adored her immensely. Dew had saved the pair of them more than a few times from carrying bags of groceries halfway across town. Alex opened the passenger seat and slid in. Val hopped in and after two attempts managed to get the engine going.

She tapped on Dew’s navigation screen, selecting Wexner University, and activating autopilot. She swivelled in her seat and appraised Alex, phone still in hand. Alex leaned away from her gaze. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“’m thinking.” was her response, eyebrows furrowing. When Alex gestured for her to continue, Val shook her head and turned back to the steering wheel. “It’s nothing.”

They continued in mostly silence, aside from the quiet hum of Dew’s engine and the rhythmic tapping of Alex’s fingertips on the car door. As they turned into the hospital’s parking lot, Alex let out a sigh and sunk into his chair. “They’re gonna send me to some lab and test me, aren’t they.”

Val, who had been frowning into the middle distance, startled and turned her attention to her friend. “I mean, probably? But they aren’t going to, like, vivisect you,” she assured him, “they’ll probably just give you a couple blood tests. You’re literally a biomed student, you know the procedure.”

Yes, which is to take me to some lab and test me. Except I think I already know what’s going on.

Dew pulled into a vacant parking space and let out a little trill to let the pair know they had arrived at their destination. Alex heaved himself out of the car and leaned heavily on the roof. “I know, Val. I’m just freaking out a little. For obvious reasons.” To accentuate his point, Alex used his mental hand to pull one of the leaves on the ground into his physical hand. As before, there was a slight tug on the base of his spine, and some of the pressure left his skull. Val hopped out of the car and locked it, glancing at the leaf in Alex’s hand and deciding to ignore it.

She started to head towards the emergency room entrance, pausing to turn and look at Alex, who was turning the leaf in circles an inch or so above his hand. “Alex, come on.” she called. Alex dropped the leaf and put a spring in his step to catch up with her, shoving his hands in his cardigan pockets.

The sliding doors opened for the pair as they approached them, and as they stepped into the building a small robot on wheels with a screen for a face slid up to them. “Welcome to Wexner University Hospital’s emergency room! I am Unit-Designation-Reception-1, but you may call me Uri. Which one of you is the patient today?” it chirped. Alex raised his hand.

Uri paused for a split second before its LED screen changed, showing Alex’s ID. “Can you please place your hand on the screen to confirm that you are Alexander Quinn, born April twenty-third, 2041?” Alex did as instructed, and a red line appeared on the screen and scanned his hand. The robot beeped again. “Thank you, Mr. Quinn. Do I have your permission to scan you for a quick check of your general health?”

Alex shrugged. “Sure, go for it.”

Uri’s screen retracted, revealing some kind of camera. Alex vaguely remembered seeing one similar in a seminar. There was a quiet whirring before the screen slid back into position, changing to show a smiling emoticon. “According to these results, you are in near-perfect health, aside from possible eye strain. Can you list any symptoms you are experiencing currently?”

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Alex let his head fall back, sighing through his nose. Val cut him a glance, and he straightened. “Spontaneous telekinesis.” he mumbled. The smiling emoticon blinked off of Uri’s screen, replaced with an ellipsis.

“Please can you repeat that?” it asked. Val waved to get its attention, and the robot swivelled on its back wheel to face her.

“He’s developed the ability to move objects with his mind.” Mostly because he could, Alex reached out with his mind and tugged on Val’s phone. The rectangular device shot up out of her pocket and into the space between the three of them. For flair, Alex made it do a triple somersault. Val grabbed it out of the air and pointed it Alex, narrowing her eyes. “No. Bad Alex.”

Uri’s screen flickered. After a moment, the small droid spun around. “Mr. Quinn, please follow me. Miss, if you could take a seat in the waiting area? Another unit will be with you shortly.” Alex fell into step behind the droid, shrugging at Val, who wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

“Back in a flash, cross my heart,” Alex lied. Val just hummed, crossing her arms. Alex wondered distantly if he was ever going to see her again.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna give E a call back. He’s probably losing his mind over this.”

**

Uri led Alex through a maze of corridors and elevators, further and further into the building. Each new turn seemed to take a step backward in time. Eventually, after about twenty minutes, Uri came to a halt outside a pair of grey double doors. They weren’t dirty, per se, but years of grime had settled into them. Alex waited for the usual hydraulic swoosh and raised an eyebrow when the doors stayed firmly shut.

“The doctor will be with us shortly, sir.” Uri informed him. Alex eyed the droid warily, rocking back on his heels. True to the droid’s word, after a few minutes of Alex pacing the corridor to relieve some nervous energy, the doors swung open to reveal a man.

A man that Alex unfortunately recognised – he was one of the two authors of the textbook Alex has been reading earlier.

The doctor stuck out his hand and grinned at Alex. It had a distinctively manic air to it. “Doctor Rodger Cartman. You must be Alexander?” Alex shook the offered hand weakly, returning the smile.

“That’s me, yup. Call me Alex, please. It’s an honour to meet you, Doctor. Though I do wish it was under better circumstances.” Dr. Cartman tilted his head slightly. “Oh. Um. I’m a biomed student. We’re studying your…area of expertise, currently.”

Dr. Cartman ahhed and released Alex’s hand to gesture behind him. “Oh, excellent. It’s always nice to have a patient who knows what I’m talking about! Come, come.” He took off at a sauntering pace, Alex at his side. Alex resisted the urge to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“So, as you may be aware, I specialise in neurodegenerative conditions – though, for a majority of my career, I’ve been working more specifically on DISD. I take it you know what that means?” The doctor glanced at Alex, who nodded dully as he looked around. The doctor continued talking about his studies, but Alex had literally spent the past twelve plus hours reading the man’s writing, so he tuned out and continued observing.

The lab – or what Alex assumed was a lab, at least – was comparable in size to a majority of the ones he’d seen as part of college tours. There were utility droids like Uri drifting around the place, pushing carts and organising files. Something that Alex didn’t spot, though, was patients. There was several beds lined up along the left-side wall, separated by blue curtains. Nobody was on them. Dr. Cartman noticed Alex eyeing the beds up and came to a stop.

“Wondering where all the patients are, hm?” If there was a mirror in here, I’d be looking straight at one, Alex groused internally.

“Um. No, Doctor. The last diagnosed case was documented…what, a decade ago? And that patient. Um. Left? This plane of existence? A few months later. I’m more surprised to see any beds at all.”

Dr. Cartman nodded. “Yes, true enough. This is more or less purely a research lab now, not so much a treatment centre, but we keep the beds. Just in case.” Alex didn’t miss the way the doctor’s gaze, assessing, swept up and down his body. “Speaking of which, whilst you are probably more or less aware of what I’m going to tell you shortly, we need to do some tests. You might be perfectly okay!”

Alex floated the doctor’s digipad and stylus out of his lab coat pocket and – with more skill than he’d anticipated, to be honest -, wrote NOT OK. The pad hovered for a moment more before Alex felt a wave of nausea and he let his control slip. The doctor grabbed both items before they could hit the floor and stared at them. The nausea passed and Alex sat down heavily on the bed nearest to him. He absolutely did not let out a breathy little sob, because he was a grown ass adult who was in control of his emotions, thank you very much.

Dr Cartman stared at the objects in his hands, something akin to horror in his eyes. He waved over one of the droids and whispered something to it. A moment later, it returned with a portable desk. Dr Cartman thanked the droid before taking a seat beside Alex and placing the pad – which he was still looking at like it was about to bash his brains in or something- down on it.

“So, Alex. How long have you been experiencing symptoms?”

**

Rodger Cartman had seen some shit in his life. He’d witnessed hundreds of people reach their terminus, screaming in pain as they were wiped from Earth with little more than roll of thunder and a crackle of static electricity to signal it.

He’d had to debride scales that inched up the arms of a teenage girl. Had held the hands of a young man who had horns pushing their way out of his scalp, bloody and sharp. Was the last thing a lot of people had seen from their home dimension.

This, however.

This was something else.

Alexander Quinn took a deep breath and shuffled further back onto the bed. He didn’t look as ill as some of the patients Rodger had treated. The only thing that seemed to be wrong with the boy was that he could, apparently, move objects through the air with little more than a gesture and a thought. Which, if nothing else, was ever so slightly more concerning.

In three decades of dealing with DISD, Rodger had only encountered something like this once – a kid, right at the start of the disease’s life, who could manipulate water. Her name had been Lucy Wright. She was memorable for more than just an abnormal presentation of symptoms. She’d been brought to Rodger and his team on a Wednesday evening and had reached terminus early Thursday morning. It was the quickest escalation Rodger had ever witnessed, and as far as he knew, had never been beaten. Her parents barely even got to say goodbye.

Alex Quinn took another breath. “I’ve been getting headaches a lot, recently. But I’m a medical student, and it’s coming up to the end of semester. Finals are starting, so I’ve been cramming. Not exactly unusual, right?” He side-eyed Rodger, who gestured for him to elaborate. “Two, three weeks? The telekinesis bullshit only started today. Less than an hour and a half ago.”

Rodger nodded. “Anything else in your medical history that might be relevant?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. When I was a kid, I got horrific cluster headaches. Started when I was seven or eight. My folks got me put on a clinical trial. I...left their house just before college started, and I couldn’t afford to stay on the meds, so that’s why I ignored the headaches. They used to be worse, anyways.”

Rodger pulled up the kid’s records but found nothing about a clinical trial. In fact, he didn’t find anything past two years previous. He was about to mention it when Alex glanced over and sighed, so deep it was almost a groan. “You’re gonna want to look up Alexandra Quinn, not Alexander. I, uh. Just registered as a new patient when I moved here. Less messy. Or so I thought.”

Rodger just nodded and amended his search. When he did, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “If you’d just give me one moment, Alex. Feel free to get settled, I won’t be a moment.” Alex shrugged, but didn’t move.

Rodger was across the lab and in his office in a blink, pulling up a video call and dialling. A second later, the squinting face of Simon Robbins appeared on the screen.

“Roge? It’s four in the morning, what’d you want?”

“Simon, get to the hospital. One of your clinical trial patients is here. Be quick.”

Simon ended the call before Rodger had even finished his sentence.

**

Alex ended up waiting for forty minutes. He’d been crying for thirty-five of them when Dr. Cartman came back to his bedside. Beside him was another unfortunately recognisable face – Dr. Simon Robbins, another DISD expert and Dr. Cartman’s long time research partner. Alex didn’t bother hiding his sobs this time.

The two doctors - who Alex belatedly realised were flocked by a small handful of other doctors and nurses - shared a grimace. Alex wiped at his eyes and attempted to sit up straighter.

“Good morning, Doctor Robbins. Nice to meet you.” Alex tried for cheery, but it came out shaky. “Must be pretty serious if you’re both here. With a team, too? Lucky me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Alex. As much as I’d love to take this slowly, you are a highly unusual case, so we might need to get a bit of a wiggle on.” Dr. Robbins smiled. That isn’t at all worrying, thank you, Alex thought. “Now, according to your file, you were part of a clinical trial. What do you remember about it?”

Alex frowned. “I didn’t get told a whole lot about it, to be honest. My parents told me it was a study for chronic headaches. I was on it from when I was eight ‘til two years ago. Why? Is it important?”

Dr. Robbins looked to Dr. Cartman for assistance, who just stared back at him blankly. What is going on here? Alex wondered. “Did you ever get told who was in charge of the trial?” Alex shook his head, but something deep, deep down inside him shuddered. Robbins blew out his cheeks. “Right. Your parents probably didn’t want to scare you. Though I do wonder why they didn’t tell you about it as you got older?”

Alex scoffed. “Doctor Robbins, I haven’t seen my parents in two years. I have a feeling I know exactly what the study was for, and I can say without a doubt in my mind that they didn’t bother to inform me about the real reason behind the trial was because they probably think I’m already gone and no longer their problem.”

Dr. Cartman’s usually pleasant expression twisted into something ugly, angry, but quickly turned back into a placid smile. Dr. Robbins clicked his tongue and was about to say something else, but Alex waved it away. “Don’t worry about it. Though I am curious – how exactly did you cause the DISD to delay its progression? If I’ve had it since I was seven, that’s over a decade. The longest surviving patient lasted, what, a year? That’s incredible!” Alex looked over at the other medical professionals, who were openly staring at him like he was a prized piece of meat and rolled up his sleeves. “If you want to take a look at blood or whatever, go nuts. Just ‘cause there’s not been anyone diagnosed in ages doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, right?”

“Alex, they aren’t here to run tests on you. They’re here to make you comfortable.” Dr. Cartman said. “We don’t know how much longer you’ve got, to be honest. You’re a miracle. But even miracles deserve to spend their last time in our dimension happy.”

Alex blanched. “Oh. Um. Okay, sure.” He looked down at his left arm, at the small sunflower, bird and snake that were tattooed there, and had to blink back another wave of tears. “Is Val still in the waiting room? She said she’d wait up for me.”

**

Val was bought up by one of the nurses not even fifteen minutes later, both panting.

Something within Alex was churning. The migraine hadn’t gotten any worse, but it had somehow changed form, leading Alex to reach for a sick bowl no less than five times since the nurse had left. Judging by the looks the doctors were giving each other, this seemed like a poor development. Just a few more minutes, please, Alex begged the churning thing, please just let me say goodbye. His grip tightened on the plastic.

Oddly, Alex would daresay suspiciously, the feeling retreated enough that he could actually think again.

“Please tell me this is an incredibly elaborate prank, and I didn’t just sprint across a hospital to watch my best friend die.” Val said, eyes already welling with tears. Alex just shrugged. Cartman and Robbins both looked like they were going to object to the word ‘die’, but a scathing look from Val closed their mouths.

“I really, really wish I could, Val.”

Val pulled out her phone, calling Elias without looking at the screen. Elias’ eyes were as red as his sister’s. “You think I have time to get on a plane and see you?” he asked.

Dr. Cartman took a step forward, so he could be seen on the video call. “As much as Dr. Robbins and I would love for Alex to be surrounded by friends when he reaches terminus…we simply don’t know how long he has left. The fact the trial drug was enough to keep the disease progressing for two years after he stopped taking it was something we’d never predicted. I am sorry.”

“But that means he could have a couple more years, no?” Val asked.

The churning came back. Distantly, Alex thought he could hear the rumble of thunder. Cartman looked up sharply. “No, Miss Valerie. I daresay he doesn’t.”

Baddum. Baddum. Baddum.

Alex raised a hand to his pulse point. Not my heart.

Baddum. Baddum. Baddum.

Alex pulled Val close and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you. Both of you. Don’t forget me, okay?”

“Alex, what are you-,”

BADDUM.

A crackle of static, a roll of thunder.

And Alexander Quinn was gone.