Alice had no idea how long it took her to get home. It felt like an eternity. She didn't even remember anything about the landscape, really, except that she eventually found the interstate and followed it all the way home.

  It was late when she finally crawled in through her bedroom window. The apartment was dark and quiet, and she supposed her mother would have gone to bed by now. She wanted nothing more than to do the same. She didn't even bother showering. She peeled off her clothes and left them in a big, sopping pile on the floor and crawled under the comforter on her bed.

  When she awoke the next morning, there were leaves and drying mud on her pillow from her hair. Her floor was in a similar state, and she realized she would have to clean the mess if she didn't want her mom to ask questions.

  Alice looked up to see her mom standing in her doorway. "Where were you last night?"

  Alice thought to make an excuse, or maybe to lie to spare her mom the worry. What could she say? That she'd been out late on her date? She looked around her room and remembered her wet, muddy clothes were still in a heap at the foot of her bed, and a streak of brown marks speckled with grit and leaves adorned her windowsill where she squeezed in. Alice realized with a sigh that lying about all this would have been pointless.

  "I'm sorry," she said as she sat up and pulled away the hair plastered to her face. "It was late, but I didn't check the time."

  Her mother stared at her, eyes narrowed. "I know it was late, I waited up for you," she grumbled. "I slept really badly."

  And without another word on the matter, she left Alice alone in her room with her muddy mess and her troubled conscience. Alice groaned and tried rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was terrible at keeping secrets from her mom, and she knew she would have to come to an understanding with her if she was going to keep adventuring out into the world the way she had been. That is, if she kept adventuring out into the world. The whole point of sneaking out to chase disasters had been to find more metahumans, and she had instead found normal people using machines. She realized she didn't know what to do with herself now. The only certainty left her was her desire for breakfast and a shower.

  After scouring her apartment for food—heavens, she was hungry—she grabbed a spray bottle and a rag and went to work. As she scrubbed at the crusted mud on her floor, she listened to Freddy Mercury's voice as he sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" and reflected on just how well some of the lyrics seemed to sum up her feeling that everything that had just happened felt just as much like a dream.

  It makes me wonder if this is the real life, or if it is just fantasy?

  Her rescue of the woman in the trailer park and the people on the boardwalk seemed like something out of a movie, and yet there she was, scrubbing the evidence of her adventure from the floor with a rag. The whole experience still had her head spinning. She'd done things she'd never dared before that day. She'd shown her powers in public. She'd exposed herself to other heroes, though they hadn't turned out to be exactly what she thought they were. She'd put herself in harm's way. She had grown up her whole life without ever having been truly injured, but getting out of bed that morning, she'd discovered her very first bruise. In fact, there were several spotting on her shoulder and arms where she'd hit the falling pieces of the Skywheel.

  She'd also saved people's lives. It felt ridiculous to believe she had ever done such a thing, like a child believing she'd performed a feat of real magic, and yet she had done it. She saved that woman from the flooded trailer park, and she'd saved those people on the boardwalk. It made her feel...what? Proud of herself? Hardly. She knew she'd fumbled her way through each "heroic" deed. She could very easily have failed or made the situation worse, but somehow, she hadn't. Somehow, everything had turned out all right.

  What would Dad think?

  It wasn't until her shower ran out of hot water, forcing her to go out and face the day, that she wondered what her mom might think.

  "Good morning, Mama" Alice greeted her as she finally left her room. She was doing her best to sound as calm as casual as possible.

  Her mother looked up from her mug of chamomile and smiled. "How's my girl this morning? You look tired."

  Maryanne was cradling her cup in her hands and peeking through the blinds to the street below. She turned and looked at her daughter with a long, thoughtful sip from her cup.

  "What are you looking at?" Alice tried again. "Are you stalking someone down there?"

  "No, I'm looking at you. Are you alright?" Maryanne gave her daughter a knowing look, then she left the window to deposit her empty cup in the kitchen.

  Alice's smile faded. A feeling was rising in her stomach now. "What do you mean?"

  Her mother held up a hand to quiet her, as though listening for something. Alice fell silent and strained her ears. For a moment, there was something unusual. A buzzing sound. It might have been some kind of insect, but it sounded mechanical to Alice. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but it only lasted for a moment.

  "There are little things I've noticed," her mom answered, finally breaking their silence after a moment. "Interesting people on the street below. How long has that van been parked across the street from us?"

  Alice walked to the window and peeked through the parted blinds. There was, indeed, a van there. It was an ordinary-looking panel van, the sort that might be used by the power company or a plumber. The sign on the side read "Department of Emergency Resource Management" on the side in brown letters.

  "I don't know, Mom. It looks like a utility service or government or something." The moment she said the word "government", her mouth went dry, and the air seemed to grow very thin. She closed the blinds and turned, realizing with a start that her mother had silently come from behind her and had been looking through the blinds at the same van.

  Am I being watched?

  Alice had once gone hiking with her mother in Germany. The trail had many switchbacks through rocky, beautiful foothills. At one point, Alice's foot had slipped when she'd walked a little too close to the edge of the trail. It had been no more than a minor stumble for her, sending a handful of rocks tumbling down a steep, gravelly incline. But those rocks had loosened others, and a chain reaction began. What had begun as a misstep and a few small stones eventually transformed into a rockslide that sent broken boulders the size of basketballs crashing onto the trail below, rendering it practically impossible for hikers to traverse. No one had been hurt. There hadn't even been any other hikers around at the time, but Alice never forgot the sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched her little slip become a destructive force beyond her control. She was beginning to feel that sinking feeling again.

  Did I just start a landslide? Am I about to face the consequences of my actions last night?

  Her mom pulled her hand and led her to the living room couch, nudging her to sit.

  "Tell me truthfully, Alice. Did anything happen recently? Did you do anything that might attract the attention of some people?"

  Alice shrugged. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could dash back in her room. "We're probably just being paranoid." She wished she was as confident with that answer as she was trying to sound.

  "What do you have to be paranoid about, sweetheart?" she asked with one eyebrow raised. Suspicious.

  Relax, Alice commanded herself. There's no need to make her worry. She doesn't need to know about yesterday. It's not like she can read my mind. Can she?

  "Honestly, Mom, it's nothing. Please don't give me that look."

  "What look?" she asked innocently.

  "That look," Alice answered, pointing to her eyebrow. "The look that says you think I'm up to something. It's not what you think."

  "Really? What do I think?" she said, leaning forward. Alice shook her head.

  "I know you've been flying in public."

  Alice froze. She felt trapped in a lie of omission, and she was never any good at it. She hesitated before turning to face her mom.

  "I have been," she admitted, trying not to look like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, "but I've been responsible. No one's seen me."

  Her mom made a said nothing but picked up the remote for their TV from the couch and pressed a button. The TV on the wall came to life, turned on to some pre-recorded program. Her mom hit play on the recording, and a news anchor narrated a blurry video of an event in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The video showed a black, shapeless object flying through a grey sky...and colliding with a falling piece of a collapsing Ferris wheel.

  "Metahumans seen at Myrtle Beach," read the headline.

  "Many people fleeing the hurricane reported seeing metahumans in the city," reported the anchor. "Those stories seem to agree there were at least two: a young man with incredible strength and, of course, the flying young woman seen in this footage..."

  "So, you were wrong," her mother said, pausing the program, "about not being seen."

  Alice glared at a vacant spot on the carpet. It was suddenly much easier to look at it than at her own mother.

  Her mom reached out a gentle hand, raised Alice's chin, and held her gaze. She looked at her daughter for what seemed a long time. "I hope you know what you're doing." She finally said.

  "No one saw who I was," Alice tried again, pointing at the screen. "I mean, yes, they saw me, but they didn't see my face. They have no idea who I am!"

  "Alice, I knew a long time ago that you were eventually going to leave home and start experimenting with your..." Maryanne searched the air above her head for the right word, "gifts. And I knew there would be consequences when you did. I accept that. I also accept that you have a need for privacy now, so I can understand when you don't tell me everything that's been going on with you. I've turned a blind eye to your mysterious comings and goings because I know there's a lot you need to figure out. But now the consequences of your choices may be putting us at risk."

  Alice knew her mom was right. Her choices had consequences, alright, and they affected more than just her. If her mother was going to have to live with them, she had a right to know. She told her the truth about what had happened in South Carolina the day before, though she left out any details she thought might make her mom fear for her safety. Like nearly drowning under the SUV. However, her mom seemed to read between the lines and guessed all the danger Alice left out.

  "Mom," she protested when her mother huffed at Alice's claims that she was never in real danger, "I ran headfirst into a Ferris wheel and came out without a scratch. You really don't have to worry about me getting hurt. Because if that couldn't do it, nothing will."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Oh, you're wrong about that, too," she corrected her daughter gently. "There's not much that can injure you physically. You've never had so much as a broken bone. But there's plenty that can hurt you. You feel pain just like everyone else."

  Alice sighed. She knew her mom was right, of course. She did feel pain whenever she fell down, or whenever she stubbed her toe, or whenever she got a little too careless while slicing vegetables with a kitchen knife. She even cried sometimes whenever those things happened. She was proud of the fact that she was strong. She sometimes imagined that made her powerful in some way, even if she never made much use of it beyond helping her mom move furniture from time to time. She never got sick. She'd never had a blister or a cavity or even a torn fingernail, but she felt pain. She could feel the sharp point of a knife or a needle on her skin. She felt burns from a hot stove. She got cold when it rained or snowed, and she got brain freeze when she drank milkshakes too fast. She felt plenty of pain, but she never had a mark to show for it.

  Except for the bruises on her arms. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd chosen to wear a short-sleeved printed tee. Of course, her mom could see the bruises, but she'd chosen not to say anything about them. Alice suddenly felt a knot in her stomach for making her mom worry.

  "So, did you get to talk to the boy?" she asked, changing the subject.

  "No," Alice answered, the weight of disappointment settling on her once again. "Well, I did. Kind of. I said 'Hi' to him."

  Her mom laughed with surprise.

  "You went through all the trouble of flying down there, and you didn't get any answers at all? You didn't ask him anything? Was he gifted like you?"

  Alice drew her knees up to her chest and looked at her mother. "He's not like me, Mom. None of them were. They're not...gifted, you know?" she said.

  "Are you sure?" her mom pressed.

  "It's all machines. I don't know how, but they're doing it with science or something." Alice buried her face in her knees and sighed.

  Her mom didn't answer right away. She stroked Alice's back and hair while they shared in the silence. After a moment she stood from the couch, and Alice followed her to the table. There was a box of pastries from their favorite bakery. Her mother had already gone out that morning, it seemed.

  "I know that must be so frustrating for you. It must have been exciting to think you might find someone out there who was like you."

  Alice's mom had no gift for cooking, but she had commendable taste. Alice consoled herself with chocolate and almond biscotti, raspberry-pistachio tarts, and cannoli dripping with hazelnut cream. The two of them ate slowly, relishing in the silence of good eating. Somehow, the food made all the frustrations and anxieties of that morning seem just a little less daunting. Her world was a safe one.

  Maybe it's better I didn't find what I was looking for, Alice thought to herself as she licked a smudge of cream from her fingertip. Maybe I shouldn't go looking for answers. Maybe, if I'm patient, some of them will come to me.

  Alice's peace of mind only lasted as long as her mom stayed home with her. They listened to music while Alice filled out college applications and her mother busied herself around the apartment. But after an hour, Maryanne announced she was leaving for work, another twelve-hour shift at the hospital's maternity ward. Then she was gone, taking the good cheer and atmosphere of safety with her.

  After a whole morning of talking to her mother, the mostly empty space seemed so quiet. It would be hours before she had to go to her own job. She forced herself to stay away from the windows, knowing that if that van was still across the street, it would only make her more nervous than she was. Instead, she tried to distract herself. She took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, wondering if she should join Christine for a night out after Morena Rose closed. Truthfully, she didn't know if she wanted to go out or not. She wondered if she would be jumping at every shadow she saw, but she found herself unwilling to spend the evening alone in all the murky silence.

  Four sharp knocks sliced through her thin nerves, shocking her to her core. Her heart leapt so high it nearly choked her. It was a moment before she realized it was someone at the door. She nearly tripped over the couch as she crossed her apartment, so distracted she was by the thumping in her chest.

  What do I really have to be afraid of? What is the worst thing that could be beyond that door? Two men in black suits and sunglasses? Government agents, with tasers and chloroform and a van to pack me away in? Off to some laboratory where I would be studied like a zoo animal? If there were such men here to collect me, would they be able to? If such men were here, would they bother knocking?

  She thought she was prepared to see just about anything as she stared through the peephole of her front door, but a single deliveryman still managed to surprise her. She let out a long breath.

  Get a hold of yourself. You just flew through a hurricane, rescued people from certain death or injury, and chased strange a masked man across a city. One deliveryman hardly seems a good enough reason to be jumping out of my skin!

  He smiled as she opened the door. He asked for her by name, and when she answered, he handed over a large, flat envelope. Whatever it was inside, it was the size of a large tablet computer and protected by a layer of protective bubble wrap. She thought perhaps it was something her mother may have ordered online, but she saw that it was addressed to her. Also curious was the lack of a return address. There were no markings whatsoever on the package that said where it had come from.

  The deliveryman himself should not have been remarkable. He was older than her, but certainly not so much older. His eyes, dark and nearly hidden under heavy, thick eyebrows, were friendly. He was clean shaven, and he wore the brown uniform she recognized, and there was nothing about his appearance or behavior that suggested he had intentions of kidnapping her and dissecting her in the name of science.

  But is he looking at me with just a little too much curiosity? Is he just a little too interested in me to just be a normal delivery guy? Or is it just my imagination?

  But he turned and left as soon as she'd signed his tablet, flashing what might have been a bemused grin before disappearing down the hallway in the direction of the elevator. Then she was alone. He hadn't tried to kidnap her or arrest her or question her. A normal deliveryman. True, the package was unexpected, but what of it? She was safe here in her home.

  All the same, Alice made sure the deadbolt was locked and secure before she turned her back on the door.

  She was in her room when she finally tore the envelope to see what was inside. She'd guessed it was a tablet computer, and now that it was out of its packaging, she could see she hadn't been far wrong. It was an electronic device a little larger than a notebook. It was flat, sleek, and matte black. Seams ran along the device in elegant lines, though she could find no screen, hinges, or lid. She found that very curious.

  Then, without having touched any kind of power switch, she could both hear and feel the object hum to life. The sudden signs of electronic life startled her, and she gave out a little shriek as she dropped the thing on the foot of her bed and backed away from it, unsure of what to expect. What she did not expect at all was for it to begin changing shape and moving.

  The device sprouted two small pods, each housing a lens, cameras like a crab's eyes. They swiveled around the room, each lighting on the surroundings independently until they both settled on Alice. An aperture on top hissed open, and a flat, circular panel of glass glowed like a miniature sun, casting up a pillar of light that painted her room in shades of emerald.

  Pixel by pixel, the head of a man the size of her torso appeared in the air above the device. It was a hologram, Alice realized. It was slightly green and transparent. Waves of pixels washed over it as it moved, the face turning to face her as she backed away towards the door.

  "Ms. Fillmore?" said a man's voice. "There's no need to be alarmed. I'm not trying to scare you. You aren't in any kind of trouble. I just want to have a few words with you, if that's alright." It came from speakers mounted on the hologram device, and his voice rang as clear as if he'd stood right in front of her. If she'd closed her eyes and listened, she might have believed she really wasn't alone in the room. He sounded calm and friendly. Nonthreatening. But that did nothing to settle her frayed nerves.

  "By the way, this is not a recording. I am speaking to you in real time. I hope you'll forgive the way I arranged our meeting. I simply needed a way to ensure that we spoke only when you were alone."

  His face looked quite ordinary. He was older, perhaps in his sixties. His eyes were slanted with wrinkles at the corners and on his brow. His hair was cropped short and heavily speckled with gray. The lines on his olive-tinted, shaved face were deep. Alice might have guessed he was a military man for his grooming and the hard set to his mouth.

  "My name is Gregory Clawson."

  I am Oz, the great and powerful!

  Alice had to cover her mouth. Her raw nerves had chosen the most awkward moment to wreak havoc with her sense of humor. She suddenly could see the great, green head of the Wizard of Oz in her imagination, and the ridiculous similarity it bore to the apparition floating in her room was driving her to a nervous, hysterical fit of giggles.

  "I represent an agency that has a great interest in you and your unique abilities," Clawson continued. "I would love to meet with you so we can speak in person."

  Alice quickly looked around her, nervous to take her eyes off the head, but more nervous still that someone might be there in her apartment, someone other than the digital phantom of Gregory Clawson. She halfway expected to find a group of masked men in the room with her, slowly preparing to surprise her from behind.

  "You need not worry, Miss Fillmore. You are alone. I would not enter your home without your permission."

  "Where are you?" Alice blurted more urgently than she intended.

  "I'm in a vehicle across the street," the hologram answered.

  Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

  "I'm very eager to meet with you in person. Would it be convenient if I came in to speak with you now?"

  "It's not," Alice answered quickly. "It's not convenient. You can't come in."

  What do you want from me?

  "Why are you here?" she asked.

  "Ms. Fillmore, as I said, I'm from an agency, not the government, but we work closely with them. I'm investigating some things that have happened recently and I just wanted to ask you a few questions. I can come back another time, if you like. Or we can meet somewhere else if that makes you more comfortable. But it's very important that we talk."

  Alice didn't say anything for a moment. She felt she knew for certain the "things that have happened recently" had to do with a hurricane in South Carolina. What would happen to her if she met with this man somewhere? She imagined men in masks capturing her and throwing her in the back of a van, even though she knew she was not supposed to be threatened by such things. Though she'd never tested her physical strength against a person, she had distinct memories of tearing through metal with her fingers the night her father died. She was sure that, faced against even a team of attackers, she wasn't likely to be easily overwhelmed. However, these people weren't muggers or purse snatchers or any other kind of average criminal. Who knew what they were capable of?

  What could you possibly want from me?

  "We can talk like this," she said. "I don't know you, and I don't feel okay with meeting you somewhere, but if you want to talk, I'll listen."

  The hologram frowned, the deep creases revealing just how disappointed this Gregory Clawson was with her answer.

  "Ms. Fillmore," he began, "do you know why I asked to meet with you?"

  "I don't even know who you are," Alice said flatly. It was a ruder response than she'd meant to give, but she was unnerved.

  If she'd insulted him with her tone, the man didn't show it.

  "As I said before, you're not in any trouble," he said. "I just want to ask you some questions about your activities in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina yesterday."

  "I've never been to South Carolina," she lied. It made her sick to say it. Alice hated dishonesty. It never set well with her, and it made her too uncomfortable to do it convincingly.

  "You didn't break any laws," he went on, ignoring her lie. Then he paused and shrugged thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose you might have violated some air traffic laws, but you might have to be in an aircraft to commit them. The jury's still out on whether those laws apply to someone who can fly without the help of any machinery. But still. You did some very good things out there. Saving that woman from the trailer park, and those people from the Skywheel's falling debris. I'm sure authorities would be willing to overlook a lot for all that."

  Alice could feel her cheeks growing hot. "I don't know what you're talking about," She tried again. She knew it was lame. He obviously knew everything. But how?

  "I know you must have been eager to meet our team member, the one you saw at the trailer park. We saw the way you took off after him when he left you for the Skywheel. I imagine you have some questions. However, if you would still like to meet him, I can arrange a get together for you two. I just ask that you talk to me for a little while. No more lies. No secrets. Just be honest.

  "And if this goes well, you might find that I have a lot more to offer you than a simple meeting."

  Alice narrowed her eyes. Is this what the man meant to bait her with?

  "I'm not interested in meeting him," she corrected the hologram.

  The hologram raised its eyebrows.

  "Oh? And why not? I thought you were eager to meet someone like you, a metahuman."

  Alice's mouth hung open, surprised at first that the man would know. But the shock of his insight soon passed.

  Of course, he knows what I am. He's seen me fly.

  "I saw the machines," she said once she found her words. "Those heroes I saw on the news? They're not metahumans. They use machines, right? Technology or whatever."

  "Yes," Clawson agreed. "All but one."

  Alice stared at Clawson's phantom. It wore an expression of satisfaction.

  Is it true? Is there one of them who's like me? Someone with gifts? Someone with answers?

  "Let's meet," he said again.

  "I don't know," she said, after a long pause. "Let me think about it."

  "Whenever you're ready," the hologram instructed, "just touch the flashing button on top."

  The head suddenly disintegrated into a million crumbling points of light, collapsing back into the flat, round panel of glass on top of the machine. The device folded in on itself, each of the eye-like camera's disappearing into the sleek shape until it sat nearly lifeless on her bed again.

  The only sign that the flat, dark object had ever been anything extraordinary was the pulsing, round button on top as big around as a bottle cap. It cast golden light on the surfaces of Alice's room, a dark machine with its own golden heartbeat.