Compared the mess that was the Alun House, Cecelia’s apartment complex was almost nice. Had it really been one— no, two days since the st time Sylvia had gone up the creaking steps? Since the old woman had screamed, the little girl shouted for help, and a bright kid committed a crime bordering on a felony?

  She needed some coffee, damn it.

  During the drive, Sylvia had tried to organize her thoughts with medium success. The only thing she was sure of was that Darryl’s ‘weakening dimensional boundaries’ idea was disturbingly likely. And approaching faster than she and the other agents had thought possible. When she had joined P.A.R.A.L.L.E.L., there had been nothing about potentially world-colpsing situations.

  Cecelia was just as quiet as she had been during the drive as she led Sylvia to the apartment, only muttering a “Mr. Beltran’s not dead, he just basically lives there,” when they passed the same old man sitting in the same old chair as the agent had seen two days ago. At least the newspaper did look to have today’s — or yesterday’s, she wasn’t sure which — date.

  Stepping into the girl’s apartment was different this time. The agent thought that the pce was a little… lonely. No pets or even pnts. The various book subjects made sense; the increasingly obvious ck of décor didn’t. In fact, despite spending far too much time in Cecelia’s presence over the st two days, Sylvia couldn't recall hearing anything from her that wasn’t about work or school off the top of her head.

  That being said, she had picked up some hints from the intern – the biggest was that Cecelia was rather squeamish (going off her reaction to blood). Certainly not a horror fan. And, unlike Sylvia, she doubted the kid had had P.A.R.A.L.L.E.L. recommended to her by her former boss. So then why would a kid who, from what Sylvia could tell, wasn’t the typical ghost enthusiast, seek out and apply to “the government’s ghost-hunting agency?” It could be an interest in history, but that didn’t fit either.

  And Sylvia still couldn't figure out the theft of the separator, which was driving her as crazy as the damn ‘severe overps.’

  Said stolen separator was sitting there on the intern’s bedside table when they walked into the bedroom, plugged into an outlet extension that had no room left. “Darryl thought you were trying to build your own version of a dimensional separator,” Sylvia said, deciding to get straight to the point.

  “What? No.” Cecelia sounded tired, and she ran a hand through her hair. The brunette plopped down onto her pn bed, fiddling with a keychain – some cartoon character the agent didn’t recognize (and the only piece of individuality Sylvia had noticed) — on her key ring. “I’m, umm, not sure where to start.”

  Sylvia sighed, brushing aside the cords covering the pin bck desk chair to the floor so she could sit. “Nice” interrogations weren’t her strong suit. “What were you trying to build, kid? Start there. Keep it simply.” She added after once again taking note of the generators and projector and computer and whatever else was in the room.

  Cecelia nodded, eyes not moving up from her little keychain. “It does work. Basically.” The woman had to resist the urge to snap that the intern still wasn’t answering the damn question. “I finished the final adjustments before dinner two days ago, about an hour before you knocked on my door. As for what it does… I guess you could see it as the opposite of a separator? Well, not exactly, but it works. Most of this,” Cecelia waved one hand around the room. “Is to power it.”

  “Most?”

  “You said keep it simple. And figuring out how to generator enough power without my computer or the building catching on fire took the longest. Both for the actual process and the simutions, ‘cause I knew I couldn't count on having the separator for long, so I had to get as much done before Monday—"

  Today was Friday. The whole mess had started Wednesday. “You had government equipment stashed away for two days before it was reported missing?”

  “—as possible.” The intern raised her head enough to gre at the agent. “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me,” Sylvia automatically replied. “But yes. Continue.”

  Cecelia squeezed her eyes closed, and her words came out in a rush. “I reversed the separator to cause tiny overps just enough to, in theory, connect to the internet in parallel worlds. I know that doesn’t sound possible, but I have the calcutions and—“

  The woman raised her hands to get Cecelia to stop talking while her brain tried to process everything. ‘Intentionally creating overps…’ Why on earth would anyone think that was a good idea?! Especially an intern at the agency that worked to keep the parallels separate. “Then everything we've been dealing with since the damn airship was caused by your little experiment.”

  “No!” Cecelia shouted, finally looking at Sylvia. But the kid quickly turned her eyes away again, scooting back on the bed. “I mean, I thought so too at first. And….” She cringed. “Maybe it was for the two events here. I hope not. But there’s no way my ‘little experiment’ had that much range or power to bring over a ghost airship! And the separator was off the entire time! The only thing running was my computer.”

  That was a good point, and yet… “Could it have set off a chain reaction?”

  “The reversed separator?” Cecelia crified, as if Sylvia would eb talking about anything else. “I… I don’t think so?”

  The woman groaned, resting an elbow on the cluttered desk. She was a word away from either shaking the stupid kid or facepalming. “Cecelia. When we overid the severe overps on that map, it had this building towards the center. Which is where we’re currently assuming is where the original source came from. And, according to Darryl, these rge-scale overps and pullings could permanently mess up the boarders between worlds.” The kid’s face paled. “Even if they eventually stop, there’s going to be a lot more damage before then if they keep happening, never mind spreading. What the hell were you thinking?!”

  “I was thinking I want to leave!” The outburst startled them both; Cecelia having jumped to her feet when she shouted. “I hate it here,” she said like a confession of guilt, lifelessly dropping back on the bed. “I hate it. I hate how the future is being burned and drilled and sold away. I hate that people are killed for the tiniest things when the real criminals never go to jail. I hate that a few rich jerks can make life miserable for everyone else. I hate that my cssmates have to beg strangers online for money because they got sick or they’re at risk of losing their home. I hate that people can’t get over their-fucking-selves and their fucking hate and be fucking civil to others.

  “When I learned about Professor Warrin’s research… that was the first bit of hope I could remember feeling in years. If there were countless other worlds out there, then there has to be better ones, right?” Cecelia’s eyes were water up, and she slid off her bed and onto the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs to curl up as small as she could. “It’s selfish, but there has to be one where things don’t hurt all the damn time. Right?”

  Sylvia didn’t know what to say or do. She wanted to tell the kid she was being overdramatic and yes, very selfish. But the pain in Cecelia’s voice had only become clearer with each sylble, and that made it hard to respond. “Kid, I think you need to talk to a doctor or therapist.” Because the agent was in no way the right person for any of this. “Cut down on the news or…” Damn it, she was filing for something to say. “Or social media, or whatever college students do on their phones.” The woman internally winced as she heard her own suggestions, but they were all she had. “Umm, vote. All that stuff.”

  “You sound like every other adult.” Cecelia bitterly ughed. If Sylvia didn’t know better, she would have thought the kid was someone else than the intern she’d spent the st couple of days with. The curiosity was gone. There was no attempt at humor or sarcasm. Cecelia was even curling in on herself differently — more intentional than possible anxiety. “ ‘Stop worrying about stuff you can’t control.’ It’s like they want me to forget everything bad and act like there’s nothing wrong in the world. Sure, I could try all those options, but it doesn’t change the facts.” She reached up to tap the stolen separator. “If I have to be selfish someway to not go crazy, then why not like this?

  “But it wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone else,” the brunette continued, rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t mean to start, like, a domino thing. Just enough to connect to my computer and a small opening.”

  Against her better judgment (and to her knees’ compints), Sylvia moved so she was sitting on the floor across from Cecelia. ‘I’m too old for this,’ the woman thought as she attempt to figure out some decent, yet comfortable, way to sit. “Running away isn’t usually the right answer to things.”

  “I don’t care about the ‘right’ answer. I just want an answer.”

  “An answer, huh?” Sylvia sighed, adjusting her bzer. Suggestions weren’t an answer. Scolding wasn’t an answer. ‘And she already knows this might be a screw up on the highest scale.’ So what did that leave? “Let’s say your art project-“

  Cecelia groaned, head falling back to hit the side of her bed. “Don’t call it that. I know how bad that asspull was.”

  “Your mad scientist experiment, then.”

  “That’s worse.”

  Against her will, the agent lightly ughed. There was a bit of the kid’s personality. “How would you know if a world was ‘better?’” she asked. Given the girl’s use of ‘leave,’ Sylvia could only assume that she’d pnned to try and….” The woman looked around at the set-up again, but couldn’t figure out how the items connected together. The projector maybe?

  “Reading the news,” was the simply said answer. “Everything’s on the internet.”

  ‘Right, she mentioned that.’ That made the ‘pn’ at least start to line up in the agent’s brain. Open small overps, use the internet to see what the state of the parallel world was, and repeat. Until one stood out; then ‘leave.’ However that was supposed to work. “I know I’m not the most science-savvy woman out there, but that all seems impossible.”

  “I know,” Cecelia replied. “And I know I could end up in jail for just half of this. I just… I just needed to try regardless.”

  “Ki- Cecelia,” Sylvia said. “This entire field is mostly theoretical. Jail isn’t the worst case scenario. Death is. Very painful death.” A shrug. That’s all Sylvia’s concern got her. ‘Never mind a therapist now, she needed one years ago.’

  Knees creaking as she stood up, Sylvia’s eyes aimlessly drifted around. It really was a mad scientist set up. There was barely any room to walk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re young; you can sit on the floor all you like.” Sylvia looked down at the intern, who’s gaze flickered away from her. “We’re going back to the agency,” the woman decided. “I believe you when you say you didn’t mean to start ‘some domino effect,’ but Miss Echo needs to know what’s happened. After that, you’ll probably be working with Darryl to fix things. ‘If they can be fixed.’

  Cecelia slowly nodded, sitting up on her knees to reach her computer. “I’ll take down the bckmail,” she said, typing away. “I’m kinda surprised you fell for that, by the way. Yeah, I have a bunch of stuff, but I might have overexaggerated a bit on the implications.”

  Sylvia crossed her arms. That the intern felt like she didn’t need to hide stuff anymore was good, but… “Are you trying to get back on my bad side? Because that’s a quick way to do so.”

  “I figured I was permanently on that side,” Cecelia replied, her lips briefly twitching up. Sylvia was about to scold the kid about the returned snark but was interrupted by her phone ringing before she could get a word out. “You have different ring tones for people?” the brunette asked, closing her computer.

  “I have a Miss Echo specific one and a work one,” Sylvia crified, watching the caller name scroll by as the device continued to shout at her. Damn it; that name was someone she really shouldn’t send to voicemail (as tempting as it was). Hitting answer right before the ringer ended, Sylvia figured ‘what the hell’ and put the caller on speaker. “Yes?”

  “I’ll let that pass given the hour,” Rogers said, crackly voice filling the room. “My source filled me in on what happened at the Alun House. A report that I would have expected from the agent assigned.”

  ‘I’m going to hang up on him if he thinks he can scold me.’ “I called Miss Echo and gave her the basics,” Sylvia replied through clenched teeth. “If she didn’t inform you, that’s not on me.”

  The man on the other end of the line ‘tched.’ “Noted. You need to get back to the agency; Wilma and that other intern got injured when they went out on another call.”

  “What?!” Cecelia shouted. “Are they okay?!”

  There was a beat of a pause, during which Sylvia cursed her assumption that the kid would stay quiet. “I didn’t realize you had a habit of putting people on speaker without their knowledge, Sylvia.”

  “I don’t,” the woman tensely replied. “Something came up with the kid, so I’m still at her apartment.” Cecelia’s wide eyes guilty gnced away when Sylvia added, “I might have an idea of what started this whole mess, but I’m still looking into it.” The idea of one college student’s tinkering with dimensional shit setting off all the other shit from the st… damn it, was officially three days now? She still refused to look at the time.

  Whatever. A domino effect was the best expnation so far. The only other possibility Sylvia could think of was that Cecelia’s experiment only worked because the boundaries between parallel worlds were already weakening.

  She wasn’t sure which idea was more frightening.

  “—fine,” Rogers grunted, returning the agent’s attention to the conversation. “Just hurry up and get back here. We need someone ready to be dispatched when another of these damn overps happen.”