“It’s going to be quite a party,” said Wally, lifting a piece of avocado maki from the tray in front of them, “Outdoor dance floor. Fireworks. There’s even talk of snow-based cocktails.” He popped the seaweed roll into his mouth and glanced down his freckled nose at her with a meaningful look.

Jane wasn’t sure she liked sushi. She’d never really had it before. Maybe once with Mom as a kid. But not lately that she could remember. She didn’t know – something about raw fish and cold rice made her suspicious. But Will had bought it especially for Wally from some apparently great place in Japan, and he’d wanted to share, so she had to try and ‘appreciate’ it.

“Jane?” the psychic asked, leaning over, trying to catch her downcast eyes. “Did you hear me?”

“I think I like the little fried shrimp the best,” she replied, refusing to be drawn.

“Tempura,” he corrected her, “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” glowered Jane, “There was no question. Matt’s throwing a party. Big deal. What’s it got to do with me? He can do what he wants. I don’t care.” She focused resolutely on the seaweed ‘food’, refusing to meet Wally’s gaze.

They were seated in their usual deserted Saturday classroom, their mental defence sessions over for the year – Jane’s weary mind reduced to mush from another hour of psychic boxing. Wally hadn’t pushed too hard this time – holiday spirit, she guessed – so her head felt less sickly and shambolic than normal. She was getting better, but slowly – Jane still couldn’t keep Wally out in any meaningful way.

“You know what I mean,” the psychic said, leaning back in his chair, waving his chopsticks around like a conductor. Even in the middle of winter, he still refused to wear anything but those stupid Hawaiian shirts. “Are you going to go?”

Jane just grunted and made clumsily for another fried shrimp thing, her chopstick skills lacking both practice and grace. Obviously the answer was no, because what would be the point, because there was no point, because parties were stupid and a waste of time and so was everyone at them.

“Hmm,” mused Wally, regarding her with a knowing gaze. After a pause, he asked, “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

“No,” Jane replied, sounding more sour than she would have liked.

“Right,” said the ginger psychic, very sceptical, “Well, can I offer some advice?”

“No,” she repeated.

“I’m going to anyway,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. He paused and peered down at her. “You should apologise.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jane replied.

“Right, which is why you’re making that face,” said Wally.

“I’m not making any face,” glowered Jane, who wasn’t.

“Matt will forgive you if you say you’re sorry,” the psychic pressed on, unabated.

Jane turned on him. “I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my thoughts,” she snapped, dropping all pretence of not knowing what he was talking about.

“Yes well, when people walk around shouting it sometimes carries through the walls,” Wally said, his arms crossed, completely unapologetic, “And it’s not my fault if I overhear things, especially when the walls are paper thin.”

Jane stayed silent, resigned to glowering.

“I’m not being mean,” Wally said dryly, pointing a chopstick, “I’m just being honest.”

For a moment Jane contemplated feeling indignant, but victim was never a role she’d much liked. Besides, she conceded internally, it was hardly an insult to imply that her mental defences were bad, since that was literally why she was sitting here in the first place.

“What else have you heard?” she relented, begrudgingly.

“You mean apart from the existence of a secret little foray to the Balkans which I definitely didn’t already know about, and a whole bunch of very inappropriate thoughts about Captain Dawn?” He gave her a significant and somewhat disapproving look, and Jane felt her cheeks burn. “You know he’s almost, like, sixty, right?”

Jane mumbled something indistinct, suddenly fascinated by the tray of gross sushi in front of her. Wally rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh. Well, but hey, whatever. What goes on between you two is none of my business.”

“Yeah, well so is everything else,” Jane retorted, still closely monitoring the seaweed.

“Nice try, but no,” replied the psychic. “Look,” he said, leaning forward. “Matt’s a good guy. He’s nice – I like him. And I think you like him too, actually, except you’re too stubborn to admit it. But regardless, I think we both know he hasn’t done anything wrong. And he’s certainly not out to get you.”

Jane just glowered at the ground.

“Look,” Wally said patiently, “These things happen. You were hurt, you lashed out, and now you feel bad. And-” he continued, overriding her protests, “-you’ve spent the last few weeks going back and forth between trying to figure out how to apologise without apologising and trying to convince yourself you have nothing to apologise for at all. And that you don’t actually care.”

Jane bristled and opened her mouth to argue, but stopped at the sight of Wally’s uncompromising glower. “Don’t argue with me, Jane Walker,” said the psychic, clicking his tongue, “I can literally read your mind.” He paused, unaffected by her scowl. “I know what’s been running around your head, and not saying it out loud won’t make it any less true.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Eventually Jane’s glare succumbed to Wally’s raised eyebrow.

“Even if…” she reluctantly conceded, “Even if that was true… which it isn’t-” she added aggressively, managing to affect no change in Wally’s expression, “Even if it was… I mean, I don’t… what would I even say?”

“Hey Matt, sorry about the other day, that wasn’t cool.”

“Seriously.”

“I am being serious,” said the psychic, “Just go up to him and say sorry.”

“That’s pathetic,” argued Jane, “I’m not going to grovel.”

“You’re not grovelling, you’re apologising,” Wally replied, with a touch of impatience, “It’s what adults do when they make mistakes.” He looked at Jane as if her thoughts were as plain as day. “Admitting you’re wrong doesn’t make you weak.”

Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It’d been easier when they’d been making fun of her fantasies.

“I… I don’t know,” she murmured. Her fingers intertwined themselves unconsciously in her lap. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” contradicted Wally, though there was kindness in his voice, “And I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

*****

“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Matt assured him, “Come on man, the whole Academy’s going.”

Ed said nothing, but kept tapping away at the keyboard – though his typing was slow (for him) and half-hearted. He was listening at least, though his bleary eyes and sunken posture did little to instil a sense of confidence. But Matt pressed on, a valiant champion of positive peer pressure.

“It’s New Years,” he said, “Everyone will be there. There’ll be drinks and dancing and fireworks– well, sky explosions,” Matt conceded, correcting himself, “Courtesy of Chloe Gup, who can do, like, three different colours and apparently, like, 80% in the right direction.”

“Oh great, fireworks,” Ed droned, low and sarcastic. His eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Loud noises and colours in the sky. How engaging. How unique.”

“Come on man,” said Matt, frowning at him, “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” mumbled Ed.

“All negative and stuff. Give it a chance. Have some fun.”

“I’m a genius,” Ed moped, slumped back in his computer chair, “I’m too smart to have fun.”

Matt shook his head. Ed had been this way ever since Matt had gotten back – distant and down, reluctant to talk or socialise or do anything that would involve him having to leave the safety of his computer room. In the month or so Matt had been gone, the genius looked like he’d lost about five pounds. His face was gaunt and speckled with patchy, unkempt stubble, and his black mop of hair was in desperate need of a comb. Matt didn’t know when he’d last gone outside – his clothes made it abundantly clear that he’d been sleeping in his chair.

“Ed man, come on. Everyone will miss you.”

“I don’t know,” Ed mumbled. He finally broke off from the screen, looking at Matt with a small, defeated gaze. His eyes still moved with their usual inherent quickness but everything around them was heavy. “I don’t think anybody cares if I’m not there.”

“I care,” Matt promised. Ed shook his head, turning back to his screen.

“Everyone will have fun without me.”

“Everyone will have fun with you. Come on man, why’re you making this so difficult?”

“I just…” Ed protested, “I’m not a party person. These… these things aren’t meant for me.” He let out a long, heavy sigh. “I’m better off just staying here.”

“Why?” asked Matt, “What are you doing here that’s so incredibly important that you can’t take a single night off? Is it the whole human thing? The gene-mapping stuff?”

“Well yeah, a little bit,” replied the genius, “But I’ve got other stuff too.”

“Like what?” said Matt, folding his arms. Ed pointed at a small, thin, matte-grey coin about the size of the circle between a thumb and forefinger that was sitting innocuously underneath his rightmost monitor. Smooth and rounded, it had raised edges and three tiny crystalline domes arranged in a triangle in the middle.

“Like that,” he said.

“Okay,” replied Matt, not sure if he was supposed to know what ‘that’ was. He glanced at the innocent grey token. “What’s that?”

“It’s a telepathic enabler nodule,” Ed explained. He paused, then seeing the blank look on Matt’s face, elaborated. “It lets a non-telepath enter someone’s mind.”

“Wait, what?!” Matt exclaimed. He stared open-mouthed at the genius, who to Matt’s disbelief did not appear in the least bit excited. “Ed are you serious?!” When Ed simply nodded, Matt struggled to respond. “Ed… I mean… holy… how long have you been sitting on this?!”

“It’s not that exciting,” Ed mumbled. He made no attempt to pick up or move the coin, but simply looked at it with an expression of unenthusiastic boredom. Matt couldn’t believe his ears.

“Ed. Buddy. This. Is. Huge. How can you not-” he stammered, at a loss for words, running his hands through his hair, “How are you- why are you so calm?! This is incredible! Nobody has ever replicated a power before! This could be worth millions!”

“It’s just the prototype,” the genius shrugged. Matt couldn’t understand how he could sound so disinterested. “I can’t market it yet. There’s still a bunch of problems.”

“But… but…” spluttered Matt, still feeling like Ed was missing the enormity of his own invention, “But, I mean, it works?!”

“Well yeah,” said Ed, “Once. Then it burns out and is worthless.” He shrugged again, complacent in the face of Matt’s incredulity, “So I mean it’s not special. It’s not even really my own design.”

“Well then whose design is it?” Matt asked, gawking at the billion-dollar breakthrough sitting on a dusty computer desk like a disused pog.

“Viktor Mentok’s.”

“The Mindtaker?” said Matt, tearing his gaze away from the nodule and back to Ed, “How’d you get a hold of his stuff?”

“He was the Legion’s genius,” explained Ed, “Back in the day. They kept a lot of his schematics after he went rogue.” He glanced back at the screen. “His original designs were more centred around implants and motor control, but the underlying potential was there.”

“Wow,” wowed Matt. He leant back, hands on his hips. “Still, Ed, that’s pretty damn impressive.”

“Maybe once it’s finished,” the genius mumbled. He looked up. “But now do you see why I shouldn’t come to the party? I’ve got work to do.”

“Ed…” implored Matt. On the one hand, he had to admit, it was incredible. But on the other hand… “There’re more important things than work. Like you, buddy.” Matt paused and shook his head. “What’s the point of all this if you never give yourself a chance to be happy?”

“Bettering the human race?”

“You’re part of the human race. Your first port of call should be bettering yourself.”

“By being intoxicated and watching sky-explosions? As opposed to expanding my knowledge?”

“Ed,” Matt sighed, “We both know you can argue circles around me. But don’t think I don’t know an excuse when I hear one.” He continued, firmly, because Ed looked like he was thinking of interrupting. “You don’t want to come, fine, don’t come. But don’t kid yourself that it’s because of work. Your work isn’t going anywhere man.”

The genius said nothing; just looked straight ahead, staring blankly at the computer screen. He’d finally stopped typing. Behind his glasses, Ed blinked rapidly, and his head drooped.

“I’m a mess,” he murmured.

“We’ll get you cleaned up.”

“All my clothes are ugly.”

“You can borrow some of mine.” Matt paused. He suddenly had an idea. “Look,” he said, careful to keep his face honest, “I’ve been seeing a few things around you lately. You know… future things.”

This actually made Ed glance up. “Yeah?” he said nervously – but maybe, just maybe, also a little hopeful. “Really?”

“Really really,” Matt lied through his teeth, “Now I can’t say for sure. You know this stuff’s always pretty blurry. But I can definitely, one hundred percent see you falling for someone buddy.” He paused to let the ‘prophecy’ sink in. “And when you do, it’ll change your life.”

For a few moments, Ed was silent. He bit his lip. “You really see that about me?” he murmured.

Matt tapped his nose and gave him a knowing look.

“All I’m saying is, you know man, this party, people are going to be there.”

“Obviously. Human presence is literally a prerequisite.”

Matt rolled his eyes and ignored his friend the dictionary salesman. “I’m saying Ed, people.” He paused and raise his eyebrows significantly. “Maybe people like Giselle. She’s going to be there.”

“So?” mumbled Ed, slumping back down over the keyboard, “She’s out of my league.”

“That’s the only type of girl worth going for, in my opinion,” replied Matt.

Ed gazed witheringly at him. “And how many girlfriends have you had?”

“How many girlfriends haven’t I had? Well, technically, a lot,” Matt conceded, but he continued unfazed, “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a great guy, who’s probably going to be a billionaire someday, and if you like Giselle, you should just ask her out!”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Ed.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“She breaks my neck at super-speed?”

“Ok, realistically what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

Ed fell silent.

“I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“Well, it’s a lot like talking to people, since, you know, that’s what girls are.”

“I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“Right, you’re smart enough to sequence a non-existent genome, but you don’t know the fundamentals of conversation. Just ask questions and pretend to be interested!”

“But what would I even say?” Ed asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “All I really know about her is that we’ve got the same phone.”

“Ed man, come on, I’m sure you know- wait, why do you have a Kinetic phone?” Matt asked, momentarily distracted. He’d seen Giselle zipping around the place texting on hers, but never imagined a non-speedster would need one.

“I’m a fast texter,” Ed answered with a shrug.

“Like how fast are we talking?”

“Like non-speedster Guiness World record for a few years?”

“Wow. I mean… wow. There you go, that’s impressive, talk to her about that!”

“You really think so?”

“Well I wouldn’t open with it, but I don’t know man. You’re interesting! Is what I’m saying.”

Ed shifted uncomfortably. “But what do I say then?”

“Jeez Ed, I don’t know,” said Matt, exasperated, “Say ‘hi, how’s it going? What’re you drinking? How’s breaking land-speed? Your shoes look nice, where’d you get them?’ Then tell her about the amazing stuff you’re doing, your dreams, your ideas, and then just say ‘hey, I think you’re really cool, do you want to go get dinner some time?’”

For a few seconds, Ed just sat, staring at the screen. Then finally, in a very quiet voice, he asked, “And you think she’ll say yes?”

Matt threw up his hands. “Dude, honestly? I don’t know. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. But-” he continued, before Ed could truly start to slump, “-man, I do know one thing, and that’s that you’ve got nothing to lose. I’m serious.” He paused. “Maybe you tell her you like her, and she doesn’t feel the same way. Or maybe you tell her and she does! Either way,” Matt said, and he looked Ed square in the eye, “You’re no further away from dating her than if you stay up here.”

Ed hesitated. He glanced at the screen, then up at Matt. And then, to Matt’s amazement, he simply said: “You’re right.”

“I am?” Matt wondered, taken aback – then, “I mean, damn right I am!”

“I might as well try!” declared Ed, rising to his feet.

“That’s my man!”

“My work can wait one night!” he cried, talking more to himself than Matt at this point.

“That’s right! Well,” admitted Matt, “Unless something horrible happens to you tonight and you die leaving it all unfinished.”

“Not helpful,” glowered Ed.

“Sorry,” said Matt.