It wasn’t smooth sailing, of course.

Some problems were easily handled, like the concern that our chosen candidate would secretly make choices to make themselves, personally, stronger. That was one I’d anticipated, and I simply said that if they agreed to share their Interface with Pointy, she could announce each ability choice to the rest of us as it was made.

“And if they try to screw us over, we kill ‘em!”

An older man made that comment. His words seemed to shock many, but no one actively objected. What argument could you make against it? This wouldn’t work if people felt they could just break faith with the community and do whatever. I just hoped people would be sensible, so it didn’t come to that. What a giant waste that would be - getting thousands of points and then just getting executed!

Other arguments were harder to settle. A lot of the people liked the idea of giving the points to one person, but didn’t see why it had to be “some loser,” as Carlos had put it. I tried to sit back as people debated this, but it was hard. I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to control them. Fortunately, the facts of the situation were pretty obvious - with the way that points thresholds scaled, someone who already had multiple abilities would simply get fewer new ones from the Siphon, no matter how many points the Siphon gave. Each new ability seemed to take about as many points as all the previous ones put together.

Plus, everyone out here, by the spire? We were all people comfortable with fighting monsters. People who could fight monsters. We’d need that too, as long as this insanity lasted. Why take one of us away to grow tomatoes?

After people had agreed that the points should be given to someone with one or no abilities, the arguments really got heated. A lot of people there had older relatives nearby who hadn’t been able to earn points, and were understandably fierce in their arguments for why their relatives should be the first ones chosen. When it seemed like it was getting close to coming to blows, I spoke up.

“Maybe a neutral party?” I offered. “Someone not related to any of us here? I only met Gary and Matilda Olsen a few days ago, but Matilda insisted on giving my kids cookies, even though she knew she couldn’t get more. I trust that kind of grandma energy. Or, we could wait a day on food and just go for communication. Colonel Zwerinski’s been doing a great job running the walkie-talkie calls. If we gave the first set of points to him, he could help facilitate a discussion so we could decide who to give the next bundle to tomorrow.”

A few people really liked the idea of starting with communication, and were outspoken in support - the man who’d first wanted the walkie-talkie, the guy with the black eye, and a few others.

It was a logical plan, in some ways, but after a woman squinted at the guy with the black eye and asked, “And how much food do y’all have left, exactly?” the momentum of their argument depleted swiftly.

The man had responded “Not that much,” but he wasn’t very convincing. I couldn’t help but notice his helmet looked like military surplus, not like a bicycle or motorcycle helmet. A glance at some of the others vocally supporting not going straight for food let me pick out other telltale signs: tactical gloves, army vests, and a woman carrying a weird-ass shovel I guarantee you did not come off the shelf at Home Depot. One side of the head of the shovel had saw teeth.

Preppers. Or survivalists. Whatever you wanted to call them. I’d assumed we must have some in our neighborhood. We had a storm shelter in our garage, and I’d considered getting some of the freeze-dried survival meals in case we ever had a big natural disaster… but I’d decided against it, judging that I always kept enough food in the house to survive for a few days or a week until aid workers could arrive. I was regretting that now, obviously, but I had thought that with all the people in Alabama who fancied themselves rugged individualists, there must be some who’d bought months’ or years’ worth of food for themselves or their families. Was I looking at some of those people now?

I wasn’t the only one scrutinizing them, and under the weight of the crowd’s combined inspection, they buckled.

“Let’s do food first, make sure it works,” offered the woman with the messed up shovel. “Communication specialist the day after - that military guy you mentioned is fine by me.”

It was an acceptable compromise. Even those most worried about food, like the woman who’d said her family was 100% out, understood that we couldn’t meet up to argue every afternoon.

With that sorted out, people started arguing again over who should get today’s points. It really didn’t seem to be going anywhere. After a few more minutes of rehashed arguments, I muttered to Pointy. “Can you give me another Macarena?”

The brief burst of bygone beats succeeded in disrupting the arguments once more, and people tapered off, looking at me.

“We’re not going to pick the best person,” I said bluntly. “We’re not. We don’t have the time or the resources. The good news is, we don’t have to - all we have to do is pick a decent person, and then we can hopefully get points for ALL the people we’re arguing for going forward.” I hoisted Pointy into the air. “Everyone who has a candidate, come up and tell Pointy about them. She’s got a perfect memory, and we’ll give everyone put on the list today priority. In the meantime, I’m just going to get one of the Olsens if no one has a reason that they’re a bad choice. We need to make a decision. Sun’s getting hot.”

I handed Pointy to Priya and stepped to the side, waiting. There was a minute’s awkward silence, but no one unveiled any heinous evils the Olsens had committed. I intentionally hadn’t claimed they were the best choice, just an okay choice. A few people started talking, trying to argue that their proposed person was a better choice, but I felt safe ignoring them. What was the point of engaging? Maybe their person was better, but it wasn’t something that could be proven or disproven.

A shorter man darted forward to where Priya stood, holding Pointy, and started talking. “Christopher Givens lives next door to me on Sienna. Real nice guy. He-”

Seeing someone else get their candidate on the list spurred many others into action, and a line quickly formed behind him. I silently cheered. Every person in queue was an implicit vote of support.

“You good here?” I asked Priya.

She gave me a thumbs-up.

I set down my sword and shield next to my friend, and left before anyone could argue.

Was it a risk leaving my weapons behind? Yeah. But if I had to carry Gary or Matilda back, I sure as heck wasn’t going to be doing it with my arms full, and I still hadn’t gotten a good sheath for my sword. We’d already cleared this route of rams and pretty much everything else. Even if some monsters had popped back up, badblankets were easily avoidable, and I could kill a leafenrat with a kick. Going unarmed was uncomfortable but not terribly risky, I thought.

I could really move these days. I’d never been fast before - if you had asked me about my physical virtues, I might have claimed decent endurance and good balance, but never speed. My sister was a runner, and she’d often spoken to me about how enjoyable and satisfying running is, but I’d always thought she was crazy. I’d always seen running for fun as a sort of self-inflicted torture.

I could see the appeal, now. Moving my body was nearly effortless, and even when I was pumping my arms and legs quickly, I didn’t get out of breath. Priya and I had just cleared these streets twenty minutes before, and with nothing to impede me I made it from the playground to the Olsens’ house in about two minutes. I was moving like a car, not a person!

I’d considered calling ahead, on the walkie-talkie, but the last thing I wanted to do was involve the rest of the neighborhood in this decision. Even if I could talk everyone into my idea, the longer we argued the more time there was for something to go wrong. As soon as we got this first bundle of points handed out, we’d have 24 hours of downtime to squabble about the future.

That did mean that when I got to the Olsens’ home, they weren’t ready for me. It took a few minutes to explain the situation to them, but as soon as he understood what was being offered, Gary spoke up.

“Mattie. It’s got to be Mattie.”

His wife looked at him. “No, Gary. I can’t even get over to the-”

“I’ll get your wheelchair. Meghan can push you. She’s tough, and she said the streets are clear.”

Matilda shook her head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. I’m just… weak. You’re the strong one.”

“That’s why it should be you. It’s only your body that’s weak. You’re the strongest woman I know. And they want someone to grow food! You know I couldn’t keep your garden alive even with you coaching me. And I tried, Mattie. I really did.”

“I know,” she said softly.

She looked torn, and I butted in. “Where’s her wheelchair? I’ll take her over.”

Gary looked surprised. He’d been staring intently in his wife’s eyes, and I felt like he might have forgotten I was there. “It’s, uh, in the car. I’ll go get it.”

Matilda sat in an armchair, hands worrying at each other. “I took an ability. The baby was congested, and I took Cure Disease, just to be safe.” She nodded toward the young mother I’d helped move in with them, who was standing nearby holding her infant.

I paused, thinking. “That should be fine. Plants can get diseases, too, yeah? I think it will have synergy, and even if it doesn’t, it seems like a useful ability for a farmer.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Matilda seemed nervous. I could understand. I didn’t think she’d left her house since this had all begun. Other than the ram that had been fruitlessly attacking her storm shelter, this was the first time she’d have the chance to be close to any monsters.

Gary returned with the wheelchair. I waited, trying to be patient as he helped her into it. I could have lifted her easily, but they didn’t ask for my help. Matilda lowered herself into the seat, shakily, and Gary leaned down for a passionate kiss. The young mother and I looked away, giving them a moment of privacy.

Then, it was time to go.

I carried the wheelchair out the front door and down to the street. I set Matilda down gently and started pushing, but I could see her wince with every pebble and pothole.

I wasn’t even going that fast! This speed would have been a light jog for me before - right now it was practically a crawl. I stopped.

“If it’s alright, I can just carry you? In your chair?”

Matilda frowned. “I don’t know, dear. My chair is awfully heavy.”

I shook my head. “The weight won’t be a problem. The aliens have made me very strong. I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t upset you.”

“I suppose we could give it a try.”

I didn’t hesitate, looping one hand under the supports for the footrest and putting the other behind her backrest, tilting her so she didn’t risk sliding out. Matilda’s eyes grew wide as I lifted her into the air. “Oh!” she said, her hands gripping the armrests tightly. The back of her chair only came up to her shoulders, so she hunched slightly forward to keep her head from drooping off the back.

“Let me know if anything hurts you or you need me to stop. I’m sure we’d both rather I push you slowly, but people were fighting each other over this thing earlier - I want to get back as quick as we can.

“All… alright.” I could see that she was nervous, and not terribly comfortable, but she didn’t panic. She didn’t freak out or tell me to set her down.

I set off at a loping run, sacrificing a little speed for a gentler stride, trying to keep from jouncing and jarring Matilda. Even with my care, I could see her head rock back slightly with each impact of my foot against the ground.

“Do you need me to stop?” I asked, concerned.

“It’s just to the playground, you said?” Matilda asked, her voice strained.

“Yeah…”

“I can make it.”

Dang, lady. I can see why your husband called you strong. Alright then.

I didn’t slow, but kept a close eye on her.

When we got to the spire, I saw that most of the gathered crowd had moved. There were more people now - I recognized Darryl and Tori - but most had backed off to huddle in the shade of a large tree across the street. Priya was over there, and there was still a queue of people describing their candidates to Pointy.

Only a handful of people were within reach of the pillar, and each of those was waving a weapon through the air. I set Matilda down - she heaved a huge sigh of relief - and took the final hundred yards or so at a more sedate pace.

“What’s going on?” I asked Carlos.

“Making sure no one sneaks by and grabs it with some kind of stealth. I don’t like this plan, but if we’re doing it, we’re doing it. I’m not going to let someone steal it from under our noses.”

I nodded and parked Matilda by the base. Priya came over with Pointy, and I picked up my sword and shield. The line of people extolling the virtues of their relatives and friends was irritated at their departure, but Pointy promised to resume where she’d left off.

Matilda consented to giving Pointy access to her interface, then stood carefully. She placed a hand on either side of the crystal, using it for support. I took up a position on one side of her, using my shield to block her from view as much as possible. Priya stood to the other side. Most of those not waiting in line came over too, and we formed a human wall.

Twelve minutes is a long-ass time when you’re standing in the Alabama midday sun. It gets even longer when you’re waiting to be attacked. We were all sweating. A few minutes in, a pair of people walked over to a nearby house with a smashed window and came back with sheets and blankets. These were handed through the crowd and hoisted into the air, makeshift awnings to cut the harsh light.

It was tense. Pointy was going through the list of abilities we’d made, offering some suggestions to Matilda, and other people were chiming in with thoughts and advice… but many others were simply glaring at each other, or at Matilda. Several people had threatened her, some more bluntly than others. I was sort of grateful she looked so old and frail. It would be hard for anyone to attack her without feeling like a dirtbag, even if they wanted to risk throwing down with all the rest of us.

After an eternity, the light at the top flickered off, oddly anticlimactic after the trippy lightshow that had accompanied its arrival.

Matilda’s eyes were blank and staring. “I can’t see anything! It’s telling me there’s a ‘Points Overflow’ and I need to choose my abilities now.”

“Well, go ahead then,” I said. She didn’t react.

“Hello? Anyone?” Matilda turned her head this way and that. Others answered her, but it was clear she couldn’t hear or see any of us.

“I… I guess I’m gonna pick my abilities then. I’ll try to do a good job.” She sounded frightened, and I couldn’t blame her.

Matilda shivered, and Pointy’s voice rang out. “Accelerate Growth.”

“Shape Plants.” Matilda’s body jerked, like she was having a seizure.

“Hey,” yelled one onlooker. “Is this just gonna kill her or something? What a waste.”

The callous words sent a trickle of fear down my back. Getting a bunch of abilities couldn’t do that to a person, right? I mean, yes, I’d felt disoriented and awful after getting Life Sense, and Matilda was older and kind of frail, but that would just be hellishly unfair.

It would also probably spell the end of any kind of cooperation around the Points Siphon.

I… might be in trouble personally, as well. It had been my idea to begin with, and here I was, right in the middle of it. If people got angry and started looking for a target, I’d be very handy.

Matilda collapsed on the ground, letting out a cry of pain or surprise. “Biological Analysis,” Pointy said.

There was a collective gasp as she collapsed, and then everyone was talking, anger and fear bubbling to the surface.

“She’s dead, ain’t she?”

“She already took the points!”

“Is she okay?”

“I knew this was a shit plan…”

I crouched down next to her, leaning my shield down over the top of us. She was still twitching, down on the gritty asphalt. She deserved to be picked up, or at least to have something soft put under her head, but I was hesitant to put down my sword.

“Calm down!” I yelled. “She’s alive, she’s just taking her abilities. Sometimes taking abilities is a doozy. I could barely walk straight after I took Life Sense.”

“Biological Alteration,” announced Pointy.

I could feel pressure on my shield. Several people in the crowd dropped down, faces dark. They were feeling at her. Their intentions were probably kind, but it made me nervous. Matilda herself had her mouth open and seemed to be gasping for air. I thought she was whimpering, but it was hard to tell over the din of the crowd.

“Control Water,” said Pointy.

“Give her space!” I said. “Give her a few minutes! I’m sure she’s fine!”

Matilda continued to tremble.

I prayed I was telling the truth.