[September 7, 2042]

When Cal arrived back at Otter House, his head felt like it was full of stars. He had often envisioned what it would be like to attend school, back in the days when all he had to do with his time was imagine things. Now that he had come into contact with it, in reality, he felt like a fundamental foundation had been removed underneath his feet.

It’s not that I’m underwhelmed, he pondered to himself as he stepped underneath the portico, only that things are happening so quickly that I can’t seem to process them.

He opened the door, and met with an unexpected sight. Aina was sitting down in one of the leather chairs next to the staircase: on her right was Bridget, slowly pouring a cup of tea for the princess from a silver kettle that Cal was sure hadn’t come from the kitchen. Across from Aina, in another leather chair, sat Ram — looking absolutely terrified. She held in her hand a cup of tea, grasping the edges so tightly that Cal worried that it would break apart in her grip. She was dressed in gray sweatpants, though despite the drafty and somewhat cold room she was wearing the same tank-top that Cal had seen wear the day he had entered her room for the first time. On Ram’s face was an expression like a baby fawn that had been left in the middle of a deserted field by its mother.

Cal looked from Aina, then to Ram, and back again.

“You’re not being bullied, are you?” he asked Ram.

“What a ridiculous assertion, peasant!” retorted Aina, taking a dainty sip of her cup of hot tea. “Ram is my subordin- I mean my dear guide. She is simply instructing me on the practical mechanics of this world.”

Ram nodded towards Cal, though as her face was slanted slightly downward towards the floor the volume of her blond curls partially obstructed her timid expression. “...Yeah, she just is asking some questions… that’s all.”

Cal shot a questioning look at Bridget, who chuckled and put her hand over her mouth. “Don’t worry Mr. Cal, my lady and Ms. Ram have actually quite hit it off.”

“Ram here was just telling me about herself. Did you know she is learning how to communicate with others through an instructor she speaks to on a device called a ‘computer?’” Aina had a proud expression, as if she were retelling an accomplishment of her own. “I disagreed with her method. The only true way to get used to talking with others is to do just that, not through a… computer… What is that precisely again, Ram? I admit, your explanation befuddled me.”

“A sequential logic-base operating system powered by alternating currents of charged particles that are converted into internal energy,” said Ram softly, “it can be used… to access knowledge stored on its internal architecture or knowledge created on other computers that have been made available for public access.”

“Precisely!” Aina smiled in Ram’s direction like a proud parent, her green eyes shining. “You took the words out of my mouth underling-, I mean friend. It’s sort of… you know…”

“Telepathic magic,” offered Bridget, leaning forward as if trying to gain access to the conversation from where she stood high above the other two girls. “Based on invisible and accelerated waves of particles that exist in the air of this world that go from one place to another, holding information. Really quite fascinating, my lady. It’s a very different system than our own, which is instantaneous and bestowed by having faith in the Goddess of Light.”

“Exactly,” said Aina, clearly not getting it. Then she looked at Cal. “As you can see, we’re having a perfectly pleasant conversation. There’s no need to get all suspicious about my intentions.”

She jerked her head dismissively, as if telling him that his presence was no longer needed here.

“Okay, okay,” mumbled Cal, and he made his way toward the stairs, suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion. He wasn’t in the mood to talk with her.

As he walked past Ram, their eyes met, and he smiled at her. “It’s nice to see you out and about. The would-be-princess is right about one thing at least… the only way it gets easier is to talk some more.” He ignored the exaggerated gasp of indignation that came from the direction of Aina. “See you later.”

Ram smiled back shyly, and her wide blue eyes seemed to focus intently on him. “...Yeah… thanks Cal. Oh, can I text you later about that thing we discussed?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.”

Cal then nodded in farewell to Bridget, and made his way upstairs to his room.

Room 01 was seemingly empty of ghosts, which was a rare sight. Cal stumbled into the space, leaving his bag by the door, and gazed silently at the light creeping through the window. Mel was nowhere to be seen, and that realization inadvertently drew his attention to the sterility of the space. Of course, he brought nothing from home, except his own clothes. There were no posters hanging on the walls, no decorations on his desk, not even small personal effects like keychains or electronic charges. A bland, uninteresting room — worthy of its primary occupant.

Cal sat down on the edge of his bed.

I suppose it’s a little quiet when that ghost isn’t around, he thought dully.

He laid down flat on the bed, the ends of his long legs dangling off the corner so as to not dirty the bedsheets he had washed only yesterday evening. He rested his neck on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He hadn’t turned the light on when he had entered room 01, and so dark shadows played across the contours of the wood as he stared upward at them, and he fancied he could see shapes in them. Lines, circles, a face even — that of a young woman directly above his bed and looking straight down at him.

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Wait a minute, Cal thought.

“That’s really creepy,” he said aloud, “is this an attempt at recreating some horror movie you like?”

“No,” said the face, “I’m just comfortable here.”

The face, of course, belonged to Mel. It had taken Cal a few moments to even register what precisely he was looking at. The ghost must have floated up into the space above his bed, the entirety of her body going into the ceiling, but for whatever reason, she had let her face stick out — and only her face, as not even her hair or neck were perceptible. The effect was extremely unsettling: Mel’s pale face and blue eyes grew out of the wood, barely sticking out as if it were an organic layer of paint.

“Seriously,” Cal sighed, pressing the back of his head into the pillow further, “what are you doing up there?”

When she didn’t answer, he propped himself on his elbow and let his voice become less judgemental. “Are you… hiding? Because people can see you in the house now?”

Mel nodded. Because of how far her face was into the wall, it made her chin disappear into the wood for a moment.

“Why?” Cal’s question was earnest. “You’re not exactly a shy person, not like Ram. And didn’t you want to be seen by others, anyway? So what’s the issue?”

“That’s different,” retorted Mel, a little sulkily, “it’s too big of a change too quickly. Two weeks ago, I had accepted that I would never be seen by anything ever again. Then you came, and shook everything up. It took me a while to warm up to you, and now I’m expected to talk with multiple people.”

Her blue eyes shimmered. “It’s too much. I feel naked. And besides, who would want to talk with a ghost? They’ll probably just be creeped out. They’ll wonder how much I was watching them."

Cal shrugged, which was a difficult motion considering how he had positioned himself on one elbow. “Maybe at first, but they’ll get used to you. Ellie gets along with everyone, and those two from Luvinia already know about ghosts, so they won’t be freaked out.” He grimaced. “It… might take awhile for Ram to acquiesce to the idea of a spirit haunting the manor.”

Mel smiled weakly, and then it faded. “I didn’t really understand your explanation yesterday. So those two are like… from a fantasy world or something?”

Cal frowned. “Your guess is as good as mine. Apparently, the one with the red hair is a princess and Bridget — the woman with the brown hair — is her attendant. I can’t confirm that’s true, but you saw the sheep yesterday-”

“The red-haired princess made them and the carriage disappear with her flute,” added Mel, “I saw it from the window. She seemed really torn up about it.”

“-And the fact that they can see you at all makes me inclined to believe them. Seemingly, ghosts and spirits aren’t an unusual thing in their world.” Cal shifted position back onto his back, as his elbow was starting to ache. “I don’t really get the details about why they’re here, and how they got here in the first place, but yeah… they seem to be the real deal.”

“A fantasy princess, like in a book.” Mel giggled. As she had talked with Cal, her face had emerged further and further out from the ceiling. He could now see her short black hair and thin neck. “I always wanted to be friends with a princess, when I was a kid. I wanted to eat at royal banquets and dance at balls.”

“Now’s your chance. Though, good luck getting along with her, she’s a pure distillation of arrogance. I would try to talk with Bridget first. She’s really nice.”

“Nice?” For whatever reason, Mel’s voice sounded suspicious, though still playful. “I don’t approve of how casually you compliment everyone besides your roommate. How about me? Am I nice?”

“You’re…” Cal coughed. “You have… your own endearing traits.”

“Geez, you’re a jerk.” Mel pouted, though there was a touch of irony to her offense. “I rolled an easy ball out to the plate and you still whiffed it.”

Then the light-heartedness faded from her face. “Hey,” she said, “where were you today?”

Cal didn’t register her meaning at first. “What?”

More of Mel’s body began to become visible. She was floating slightly down at an extremely slow pace, though it was enough to make emerge from the wall her small chest and the hem of her white sun-dress.

“Where were you?” she repeated, in an insistent voice. “Before I went up here… I looked for you. But you weren’t anywhere in the manor.”

Oh,” Cal felt guilty for some reason upon hearing her words, though he couldn’t recall any wrongdoing he had done. “I went to university. It was my first day, remember? I think I told you before. I’ll be out of the manor most days now, and won’t be back until the afternoon.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Mel shook at her head, as if internally admonishing herself. “Yes, you did say that. I forget. I got too caught up in myself.”

Her body had now almost completely emerged from the ceiling, becoming a diagonal angle, with her freckled face leaning toward Cal and the ends of her feet embedded into the wood. She seemed to be thinking about something, her blue eyes distant.

“How was it?” she asked at last. “School, I mean?”

Cal considered her question. “Can I be honest?”

“I don’t talk with you for your comforting words.”

Cal smiled a little for a moment, and then returned to his thought. “It was a little surreal. I got kind of freaked out a few times, to tell you the truth. It’s that peculiar effect when something you’ve envisioned for a long time becomes a reality, and it becomes difficult to hold those two extremes of experience in your head.”

Mel nodded. “Yeah, I get what you mean. At least, I think I do. I used to always push my parents about getting a dog for the family, but they said no every time. I guess they had their hands full taking care of me. Still, I had so many fantasies about it: playing with the dog outside, feeding it, scratching its belly. But I guess I always knew that actually owning the dog would be an entirely different thing. Maybe I’d get to do all those things, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be how it felt in my head, when I was only imagining it.”

Mel rubbed the side of her head with her fingertips, as if trying to dislodge a memory. “Sorry, that was a tangent.”

“No, it was a good comparison,” Cal said earnestly. “None of it was what I imagined, but I guess it was still fun. I even made a friend — a guy my age. We’re in the same major and classes.”

Mel smirked. “Really? You made a friend that easily?”

Cal smirked back. “Is that so surprising? I can be pretty amicable when I want.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever, Poltergeist.”

Cal then turned over on his side, facing away from Mel towards his desk, though he still addressed as he talked. “You've got a pretty abstract mind, Mel. What I was saying didn’t even make much sense to myself — just hypothetical interpretations.”

“That’s because you’re such a dull and practical guy,” said Mel, teasingly. “Don’t worry, just leave it to me to intuit your thoughts. My charm and fruitful insight serve as a nice counterbalance to your boring personality.”

She grinned at that moment, a forced grin, one just for the boy, though because he was facing away, he couldn’t see it. “Besides, I’m a beautiful ghost, remember? Hypotheticals are all I have left.”