“Okay, you got your art?”

“And the materials to make new art, yeah,” Kim said, holding up a sketchbook and pencils. The meeting of the school board was tomorrow, and she intended to be ready for it.

“And we got our sad book?”

Kim nodded and held up her copy of “Bridge to Terabithia”. She didn’t know what was so sad about a bridge, but everybody else seemed to think it would make her cry.

“Alright, we’ll be ready to knock it out of the park tomorrow,” Vell said.

“’Knock it out of the park’,” Kim muttered, as she searched the expression. Upon finding the definition, she shrugged. “Maybe more of an infield home run. We’re not that good.”

“But we are good, right? This is good,” Hawke said.

“Maybe,” Harley said. “Let’s not jinx ourselves with optimism.”

Someone knocked at the door, and Harley let out a deep sigh.

“Or we jinx ourselves with pessimism, that sounds good.”

“At this point I’m not even sure it’s a jinx anymore,” Vell said. “This is just our lives, you know?”

Harley opened the door to her dorm and was not at all surprised to see Dean Lichman’s partially-decayed body occupying it.

“Hey, Dean Dean. Any chance you’re here to tell us the Board called off the meeting, apologized for being jerks, and is also giving us all free pizza?”

In spite of having partially decayed lips, Dean Lichman still managed to cringe.

“Alright, lay it on us,” Harley said. She grit her teeth for what was to come.

“The Board has ruled that all of you, Kim included, are incapable of acting as objective parties in the debate,” Dean Lichman said. Unspoken apologies hid between every word. “None of you will be involved in the debates.”

“What?”

“It’s a debate about me,” Kim said. “How can I not be involved?”

“Because they already know what they want the outcome to be,” Harley said with a sneer.

“I’ve raised what protests I could,” Dean Lichman assured them. “But I’m new here, and outvoted. I don’t have much weight to pull.”

“Do you know if there’s anything we can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Dean Lichman said. “I’ll keep looking, but as far as I know, we’re out of options. You’ve surprised me before, though.”

“And we can do it again,” Vell said. “Thanks for the help, Dean.”

The Dean nodded and went back to his office, to find any possible alternatives that might help Kim. Vell shut the door and leaned on it.

“You sounded confident,” Hawke said.

“Yeah, uh, I’m getting good at lying like that,” Vell said. “I got nothing.”

“What do we do? Just storm in and demand that they let Kim cry for the audience?”

“Maybe we could sabotage the debate all together,” Hawke said. “Hurl the daily apocalypse at them, or something.”

“You want to sic an apocalypse on the Board?”

“If it means helping Kim, yeah,” Hawke said. “We’re on short notice, this is no time to be picky.”

“Maybe if it’s something, uh, not necessarily lethal,” Vell said. “But that’s pretty dependent on chance. We should have a different plan.”

Planning would have to wait, as someone knocked on the door yet again.

“Hopefully that’s the Dean, telling us the free pizza thing is happening after all,” Harley said. “But probably not.”

Probably not became definitely not when Vell opened the door and found a tired-looking Lee on the other side of it.

“Lee?”

“Yes, turns out I go to school here as well,” Lee said, with a hint of bitterness to her voice. “Why is it that I’m only just now hearing about all this from the Dean?”

She pointed to her phone. Almost a week after all this had begun, Dean Lichman had gotten curious about her lack of involvement and texted to ask about Lee’s whereabouts and well-being. She was not happy she’d been kept uninformed so long.

“Sorry. We were just trying to give you a break,” Harley said. “Let you cool down a little after everything that happened.”

“There is a fine line between concern and condescension, Harley,” Lee said. “Do you really think I’m so emotionally inept I can’t help my friends when they need me?”

“No, I don’t,” Harley said. “Just that you shouldn’t have to.”

The carefully worded response softened Lee’s temperamental edge, and she took a seat.

“Well, regardless, I’m here now,” she said. “And I’d like to help.”

“Hopefully you’ve got something good, because we’re at the end of our rope.”

Vell recapped the situation. Lee became visibly annoyed that they’d done an entire week’s worth of problem-solving—and recommended Bridge to Terabithia—without her. She set her feelings aside, for the moment at least. As she had more extensively researched the school and its history, she knew one thing none of her fellow loopers did.

“Well, if the Einstein-Odinson’s Board of Directors are the source of our problems, then we’ll circumvent them,” Lee said. “Appeal to a higher authority.”

“God?”

“No, dear.”

“Okay, good, because the only gods we know are real assholes,” Harley said. “Who’s above the Board, then?”

“The school’s founder,” Lee said.

“Well that just brings us back to gods, the assholes ones especially,” Hawke said. “We can’t ask Loki.”

“Not Loki,” Lee said. “The school’s other founder.”

“Mr. Lichman, the claims of the machine’s supposed ‘individuality’ have been addressed,” the Board droned.

“Not to a satisfactory extent,” Dean Lichman said. “We’re scientists, we work by observation. How can anyone here make a clear judgment call without any actual observation of the subject? We’re working with opinions and beliefs, not facts.”

Since it was the day of the debates, and the gang had yet to pull through with a last-minute miracle, Dean Lichman was doing everything in his power to obstruct and inhibit the proceedings -which wasn’t much. Harley was right. The Board had made up their mind long ago. In spite of all his protests, they continued to push that Kim would be declared legally an object, and property of the Einstein-Odinson. An asset they could freely experiment on, and disassemble, as they pleased.

“If there are no further comments…”

“I-”

“From anyone other than our Dean,” The Board interjected. The room fell silent for about ten seconds. Had Lee known about that silent gap, she might’ve walked a little faster, because entering it right after the Board asked would’ve made her entrance much more dramatic.

“If I may interrupt,” Lee said, even though she wasn’t actually interrupting anything.

“XL-X8 C/P Burrows, you and your friends have been barred from participating in these proceedings,” the Board croaked. Hearing her birth name made Lee’s jaw clench so hard she nearly cracked a tooth, but she quickly regained her composure.

“It’s a good thing I’m not here to participate, then,” Lee said. “Only to introduce someone who is. Or rather, someone’s.”

The members of the board would’ve raised an eyebrow, had they the facial muscles necessary to do so. The sound of plodding footsteps -and metallic footsteps, and spectral footsteps, and regular footsteps- from behind Lee soon answered their question.

“Good morning,” said all four Albert Einstein’s at once.

“Esteemed members of the board, may I present the Council of Einstein’s: Einstein’s Brain, Einstein’s Zombie, Einstein’s Ghost, and Einstein’s Clone,” Lee said, gesturing to each version of Einstein in turn. The members of the Board unanimously let out a low, hoarse groan that sounded uncomfortably close to a death rattle. “The ranking members of the Einstein-Odinson Academy’s leadership.”

“Eh, technically we’re on par with Loki,” said Einstein’s Ghost.

“He no show up, though,” Einstein’s Zombie grunted, before drooling a little.

“So as it were, we shall be taking charge of these proceedings, as is our right,” Einstein’s Brain said. He clacked forward on the metallic spider legs that kept his brain jar ambulatory. “You know, just because we rarely show up to these things does not mean you can stop inviting us.”

The members of the Board of Directors mumbled some apologies under their breath and slinked back into the shadows. They were all too happy to let the various Einstein’s work in their private basement laboratory, rarely heeding the outside world. The Board and the Einstein’s had some fundamental disagreements on the importance of money versus scientific integrity.

“Now then, whose turn was it to be the speaker?” Einstein’s Clone asked.

“It Zombie Einstein turn to be talker,” said the undead body. He then scratched the lobotomy scars around his head. “However, Zombie Einstein recognize he lack public speaking skills necessary to convey important philosophical concepts at play in current scenario. Zombie Einstein cede floor to more qualified speaker, Einstein Clone.”

“Thank you,” Einstein's Clone said. As the only member of the group with fully functioning lips, he was often relegated to public speaking duties. He double-checked some talking points with the Brain and the Ghost, and then stepped up to the center of the room. Having trailed the Einstein’s, Kim, Hawke, and Harley found their way into the room just in time to take a seat and watch the show.

“Let me begin this by asking you all a question that has been posed to the Council of Einstein’s many times over, and one we’ve pondered at length ourselves,” Einstein’s Clone said. “Which one of us is the real Einstein?”

He gestured a hand towards his three counterparts; a shambling corpse, a floating ghost, a brain in a jar, and then back at himself, a seemingly intact replica of the original Einstein, frizzy hair and all.

“Is it the man’s body, the flesh that endured through his every experiment, the hands that wrote all his famous notes? Is it his immortal soul, the immutable essence of the man? Or is it is his brain, the same neurons that weaved all of Einstein’s most famous equations?” the Clone pondered aloud. “Or is it me? An identical replica of the original in almost all ways. Which of these many Ships of Theseus is the one that sailed the seas, and which are the replicas?”

The question was met with a resounding and contemplative silence. Everyone knew there was no right answer. The real question was yet to come.

“There is no correct answer to that question, no matter how many hours we spent contemplating it ourselves,” the Clone continued. “But though we did not find an answer, we did find a conclusion: even if there were a correct answer, would that answer matter? Would being ‘less’ Einstein make us any less ourselves? Would we be any less whole? Would our thoughts and experiences be any less real, any less valid?”

Though Kim had intended to lean back and slide into the shadows for the entire speech, she found herself shifting ever forward.

“The question of an authentic identity, of the validity of a person’s lived experience, is not ours to answer. Not even as it concerns this ‘robotic’ student,” Einstein’s Clone continued. “The nature of her existence is irrelevant. She exists. She is real. She thinks, and feels, and lives her life. Perhaps in a way that is fundamentally different from our own. Perhaps it is exactly the same. That is not ours to question. Like any thinking entity, she deserves to live her life in peace, and with self-determination.”

Einstein’s Clone stepped back, and gave a short bow.

“It is the official policy of the Council of Einstein’s, and therefore of the Einstein-Odinson Academy of Paracausal Forces, that Kim E. Komi will be afforded equal rights and privileges as would be given to any human student.”

Zombie Einstein began to thud his hands together in boisterous applause, while the rest of the elderly academics in the room gave a brief and polite golf clap. While the zombie applauded, Einstein’s Ghost hovered slightly closer to Lee.

“For the record though, I’m the real Einstein,” he whispered.

“Of course you are, dear,” Lee said. She tried to give him an assuring pat on the shoulder, and her hand passed right through his ectoplasm.

With the speech concluded, Kim lifted her head and looked up at the members of the Board. They were staring right back at her with cold, bitter eyes, full of envy and disappointment. All but one of them.

“Uh, hi, uh, oh jeez, can someone check on that guy on the left there?” Kim said, pointing to one of the Board’s many decrepit bodies. “I think he might be dead.”

The bald heads of the board turned as one towards the indicated member. Sure enough, he was sitting slack-jawed in his seat, his head rolling gently to the side. One of the other members of the Board slapped him on the back, and the machines keeping him alive jolted into activity, as did his body. He looked around for a minute and blinked a few times.

“I believe I forgot to change my batteries,” he croaked.

“Imbecile. And you,” the Board said, glaring at Kim. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh it’s quite over,” Einstein’s Brain said, as he strutted into view. “We are amending the schools bylaws as we speak, ensuring equal protections for all students, regardless of origins.”

“We will-”

“Go back to being crotchety old bastards from a distance, thank you very much,” Einstein’s Ghost interrupted.

“Old men get butts kicked,” Zombie Einstein rambled. “Go and stay go.”

After a moment of muttering among themselves, the Board of Directors began to shamble away, if only to avoid more arguing with the Einstein’s. The Council kept glaring at them until the group of decrepit corpses were fully out the door and out of sight.

“What a shame,” the Brain mumbled. “They used to be such decent fellows. The quest for immortality is so corrupting.”

“You’ve been a brain in a jar since 1955,” Einstein’s Clone said.

“Yes, but I have a purpose,” Brain said. “They live simply because they are afraid to die. I live for the science!”

“You spent all of last week watching Bridgerton.”

“Sometimes I need a break from the science,” the Brain muttered. “Rest is an investment in future productivity, you know, and Bridgerton is quite restful.”

"Regé-Jean Page give excellent performance too,” Einstein’s Zombie said. “Should have Emmy.”

“Indeed. Well. I’m glad we were able to help, Miss Kim,” Einstein’s Clone said. “Let us know if they ever try anything else.”

“I will,” Kim said.

“Is that an open offer?” Dean Lichman said, as he elbowed his way into the conversation. “Because I sort of feel like I should have known about a secret Council of Einstein’s that’s actually in charge of the school.”

“Ah, yes the Dean,” Einstein’s Ghost said. “Our apologies. We were just trying to get a feel for you. The last principal did try to kidnap and murder a student, you know.”

“I see. Where is Vell, by the way?”

“He had something to do,” Lee said quickly.

“So, just hypothetically speaking, if you were going to turn me into an animal-”

“Maned wolf,” Circe said.

“Oh, huh,” Vell said. “Harley told me the same thing.”

“She does have good taste,” Circe said. While the demigoddess sorceress had caused a polymorph apocalypse on the first loop, she’d been surprisingly easy to talk down on the second. Apparently she and Harley had a lot in common. Vell had been left behind to supervise -and possibly sic her on the Board of Directors if things went wrong- but Circe was surprisingly chill. Vell still kept an eye on her while he checked his phone, though.

“Huh. Looks like everything went according to plan,” Vell said.

“Does that mean you won’t need me to turn them into goats?”

“Nope.”

“And what if I did anyway?”

Vell really didn’t like the look in Circe’s eyes.

“I don’t think I could or would stop you,” Vell said. “But I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Ah well, I’m sure there’s someone out there in the world that needs to be turned into a goat,” Circe said. She stood with a swirl of her golden robe. “And you know how to reach me if you change your mind.”

“I do.”

“Or if you have...other desires,” Circe said. Now Vell really didn’t like the look in her eyes. The sorceress chuckled in delight at his discomfort and then vanished in a flash.

“Why is it always crazy ones,” Vell mumbled to himself. His luck with gods and other creatures left much to be desired. “At least that’s over with.”

“I think they had a point,” Kim said.

“Come on, Einstein’s a physicist, not a philosopher,” Wish Fish said. She had recapped the entire situation for him, and he was not as approving of the Council’s take as she was. “What does he know about what it means to be a person?”

“Well, he is a person,” Kim said. “Four people, technically. And smart people, at that.”

“I’m just saying, sounds like a lot of philosophical nonsense without a lot of substance to it.”

“It makes sense to me,” Kim said. “Maybe I am too worried about what I am. Maybe I should just be what I am.”

“And how can you do that if you don’t know what you are?”

Kim shrugged.

“I know at least part of what I am,” she said. “Maybe that’s enough.”

“It’s a start,” Wish Fish agreed. He couldn’t push her too far into negativity, or she might realize he was doing it on purpose. He had to ride a fine line to push Kim in the right direction. “Don’t let fancy platitudes be an excuse for you to stop facing your problems.”

“I won’t, it’s just...really nice to feel like I have a place to start, you know?”

“I guess.”

“It’s good, really,” Kim said. “I’m feeling betta already!”

“What?”

“You know. Betta. Like the fish,” Kim said. “I thought you liked fish puns.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, they’re more of a tank fish,” Wish Fish said. He only made those fish puns to seem disarmingly silly. He fucking hated puns. And most other types of fish, really.

“Alrighty. Nice talking to you, Wish Fish, but I think I’m going to go,” Kim said. “My friends got a cake and stuff to celebrate me not being some old dude’s science project.”

“They got you a cake? You don’t even need to eat!”

“Cake has almost no nutritional value anyway,” Kim said. “It’s about the taste. And sharing it with friends.”

Kim waved goodbye to the fish in the waves and then stood, leaving the beach to find her friends. Wish Fish glared at her as she walked away, and mumbled under his breath.

“How the fuck does she almost get experimented on and come out of it more mentally healthy?”