The night air was invigorating with the salty whiff of the sea. Sean wished he'd thought to bring a thicker jacket, even if Kaitlyn seemed oblivious to the cold so soon after practice and shower. The soccer team had dispersed after their meeting and Sean had taken up Kaitlyn's offer for a ride home in her mom's car. They had elected to take the shortest route across the open field from the conference rooms at tip of the C shaped wing towards the labs.

"You made Phyllis smile," Kaitlyn mused in wonder, "Not a condescending fake. A honest to goodness real smile. I don't think even her friends can claim that."

"Yeah, well," muttered Sean, "I didn't do it for her."

It had been hard for him to admit that someone could be blessed with athelitic ability on top of wealth and beauty, that the universe could be that unbalanced. But there was no hiding talent and Sean had grudgingly acceded to the evidence that Phyllis Gibbs was indeed a latter-day version of an Amazonian princess.

"Still, it was nice of you, dude," Kaitlyn said seriously, "I always thought she seemed kind of unhappy beneath her mask. Even if your new fangled idea doesn't work out, you still made her day."

"You are a better person than I am," Sean observed, causing Kaitlyn's face to flush pink unnoticed in the gloom, "You know, I always resented rich kids... but I never thought of what it must be like for them. Even if they work hard to get what they want, people are going to assume they bought their way. It can't be very pleasant, with people judging their every move and waiting to mock their slightest mistakes."

"And now you know they aren't as one-dimensional as you think," Kaitlyn quipped, "Judith for example."

Sean winced, "I never thought Judith was one-dimensional."

"Or her brother Jason, for instance," Kaitlyn was just getting started, "I know you dislike him for being a rich jock, but that doesn't make him a bad person, even if he did beat you up. But that was because he thought you... anyway what I mean is, there's a reason jocks are so popular, apart from being so hot and dreamy and..."

"Get to the point," snarled Sean.

"People don't make so many friends by being mean or arrogant, dude," Kaitlyn sighed, "Being rich or good looking helps, sure, but if someone is popular it's probably because they are also nice people."

"No, Jason is still a shit head," Sean scowled, looking around the darkening expanse thrown into contrast by the stadium lights, "I half expect to get jumped by him. Anyway... we need to ensure Cardiff doesn't miss a single goal during tiebreaker shootout. I might get more ideas later to improve our odds, assuming you guys can deliver a tie if not a win during regular game."

"I think we can manage that," Kaitlyn sounded upbeat, "and, Sean... thanks for making the effort. I'll hold up my end of the bargain. No guarantees anyone will believe me, but I'll swear you didn't hit on Judith."

"That's all I ask," Sean nodded.

The sound of a coach's whistle and yells floated up from the bowl of the stadium. Varisty football was in practice. Sean wondered if Jason was there. Probably. With luck, the jock was too busy to bother finishing his interrupted vengeance on Sean.

"Ooh look, a meteor," Kaitlyn exclaimed pointing, after an awkward pause.

Sean looked up catching the fading streak in the night sky, "Must be a straggler from the Perseid shower."

"Isn't it amazing that air friction can light 'em up like that," Kaitlyn remarked.

"Not friction," Sean said absently, "Compression."

"Hmm?" Kaitlyn raised a brow.

"Air in front of the meteor can't get out of the way quickly enough," Sean explained, "and gets compressed and heated. Like inside a bicycle pump."

"Ohhh, that actually makes more sense," Kaitlyn stopped and craned her neck up whistling, "It's so beautiful out here under the stars. Reminds me of the time Dad used to take Randy and me out to the porch to watch meteors when we were little. I liked to pretend they were rocket trails from alien spaceships." She paused and when she spoke again her voice was wistful, "You think there's life out there, Sean?"

Sean looked up again at the cloudless autumn sky cluttered with stars... fading embers of galaxies scattered like red hot ash across an intergalactic void riddled with spacetime fissures that forked intricately like optic nerves into an eye vaster than worlds...

"You OK, dude?" Kaitlyn sounded faintly concerned.

"Just zoned out for a bit," Sean blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, staring into infinity can do that to you," Kaitlyn resumed walking, "Don't you wish we were born in some later age where space travel is common and we can go to other stars? A galactic federation or something."

"I used to feel that way," Sean looked at her in surprise, "until I figured out humans don't have a long bright future. We probably aren't going to colonize the galaxy. We'll just wither and die on this planet."

"Lighten up, dude," Kaitlyn scolded, "Don't be the angsty pooper who sucks the joy from the room."

"It's not about being optimistic," Sean sighed, "Heard of the Copernican Principle?"

"The one about Earth not being the center of the universe?" Kaitlyn shrugged, "What about it?"

"Just as most people don't occupy any privileged location in space," Sean explained, "the Copernican Principle also implies we don't occupy any priviledged position in time. Of the billions of humans that have ever lived and the billions more yet to be born, we are just random samples from that vast pool."

"Yeah, so?" Kaitlyn frowned.

"Suppose we chronologically stacked all those lives; those past, present and future billions," Sean spread his hands wide, "and picked a random sample from that vast pool of humanity, what are the chances we'll end up close to the beginning or the end of the human race?"

"Pretty low, I'd expect," Kaitlyn said slowly, "we're much more likely to end up somewhere in the middle."

"Which means there's a good chance we are at least half way through the lifetime of human civilization," Sean barred his teeth, "and there probably isn't a long galactic future ahead of us."

"But humans have been on Earth for tens of thousands of years, if not more," protested Kaitlyn, after a shocked pause, "that's plenty of time in the future to spread out across interstellar space."

"Ah, but that's assuming our population is the same every generation," Sean's macabre grin widened, "Human population growth is exponential, which means a random sample is much more likely to be closer to the end than the beginning. I don't think we're going to make it. As a species I mean."

"But... but that bullshit, dude," Kaitlyn stared at him, "By that logic, cavemen should have expected human extinction thousands of years ago. You just can't draw conclusions like that from frickkin' probabilities."

"I admit it's only statistical reasoning," Sean agreed, "but unless you think we happen to be born within a few percent of humanity's beginning, which you admitted is unlikely, my conclusion still holds. I think. But if you do figure out a fatal flaw in the argument, let me know."

"You bet your ass I will," Kaitlyn retorted, laughing ruefully, "and you are creeping me out, dude. That'll teach me to wonder what's on your mind."

They walked through a rear door of the lab wing into a brightly lit atrium where three corridors intersected. Kaitlyn turned into the curving corridor on her left.

"Aren't we going out to wait fo your mom's car?" Sean demanded, pointing straight ahead to the front entrance in the distance.

"Need to grab my backpack," Kaitlyn nodded, "My mom won't be here for another fifteen minutes. You can wait here."

Kaitlyn's footsteps faded leaving Sean alone with his thoughts. Using his newfound skill to help others was a royal pain in the ass, he concluded. But hopefully he was laying groundwork to build up his rep, for what that was worth.

"Excuse me," the girl's voice made him jump. She was petite, almost diminutive with dark hair tied up in a bun, stooped over under the bulk of her backpack. Probably a freshman. Sean hadn't heard her approach, "You wouldn't happen to know the combination to the Chemistry Lab, would you?"

"Why do you ask?" Sean frowned. He did, as a matter of fact, know the passcode; having recently joined the elite group of AP Chem students who were entrusted with it for helping the teacher organize the lab.

"We had after school specials," the girl ventured timidly, her eyes enormous behind her glasses stared at Sean's cast, "and I left my assignment in there. The instructor already left and I was hoping to find a senior to let me back in to retrive it. It's really important. I need to turn it in tommorrow."

She looked like she was going to cry. Sean sighed. What a pain. The chemistry lab was at the far end of the other corridor and one floor up, inconveniently far. And the girl wasn't old enough to push his 'damsel in distress' button. For a moment he considered just giving her the combination and sending her on her way, but Mrs. Holt tended to frown on handing out the passcode to all and sundry.

"Fiiiine, I'll let you in," he muttered, leading into the curving corridor opposite the one Kaitlyn had taken. Kaitlyn could text him, if she came back to the atrium before he did.

"Oh, thank you so much," the girl gushed with relief, "I'm Martha, by the way..."

Sean tuned her out as she followed him prattling cheerfully. They reached the chemistry lab after what seemed an interminable time, and Sean punched in the passcode unlocking the door.

"After you," Sean pushed on the doors, grudgingly following her in since he was automatically responsible for the lab now. The lab was relatively small for a school of Cardiff's size. An array of counters that looked like kitchen islands cluttered the room, each equipped with a sink and faucet. Cabinets with glass paneled doors, crammed with an assortment of bottles and test tubes, lined three walls. The fourth wall was covered with windows that looked out onto tennis courts and an empty parking lot.

Martha was rifling through the draws in each counter, uncertainly. Sean watched her with growing annoyance. If she'd dragged him all the way here for nothing, he was going to flip...

The doors he'd unlocked were suddenly shoved open from the corridor, sending him stumbling forward.

"What the..." Sean flailed his good arm frantically trying to keep his balance, swirling around angrily.

Two boys stepped into the room, senior jocks surely going by their build, even if their helmets and shoulder pads hadn't been a giveaway. One of intruders shut the door and latched it, while the other stepped toward Sean, exuding menace despite the casual deliberation of his gait. Depsite his confusion, Sean couldn't help noticing what the grunts didn't exude. There wasn't the slightest hint of sweat on either of them, which struck him as odd. Hadn't these two just come in from practice, then? Sean didn't recognize either, but even through their helmets he could see that neither of them was Jason.

"What do you want?" Sean backed away warily, turning toward Martha. She was leaning against a counter with an amused grin, all pretense of searching gone. Ambush. Had Jason sent his cronies to do his dirty work? But there was no way Martha was Jason's crony, Sean had never heard of her, not to mention she didn't fit the profile of the kind of girls the rich jock surrounded himself with.

"Just doing our job," Martha shrugged, "we've been contracted to cause you some grief."

Sean backed around a counter, darting about to keep the island between himself and the advancing goon.

"Contracted?" Sean glared, "who the heck are you people?"

"We call ourselves the Collection Agency," she smiled smugly, "I'm the Director."

"But... but you don't exist," Sean stared at her, as he dodged around.

The Collection Agency was a persistent myth, a Cardiff legend. A shadowy students' club supposedly for hire to exact vengeance. Except, repeated investigations by the administration over the years had concluded it to be an urban legend. The latest incident had been a year ago, when four girls - called the Queen Quad - notorious for cyber bullying had been allegedly waylaid at the pool after school by a dozen or so senior girls. The Quad had signed a confession the next day admitting to past bullying and tearfully swearing to make amends, so traumatized that they never shared details of their ordeal. And though the bullies eventually gave physical descriptions of their tormentors, they claimed not to recognize a single girl from a lineup of the entire junior and senior year, even under polygraph which detracted from the credibility of their story.

"But the Queen Quad described the ringleader who called herself the Director, and she didn't sound anything like you..." Sean trailed off, "ohhh... there's more than one of you. Like a board of directors."

"Clever aren't you," Martha grinned, then her grin faded as she turned to the goon guarding the door, "Oh for shit's sake, stop playing 'run around the tree' and grab him you fools. Both of you. I'll watch the door."

END OF CHAPTER