"She's a problem, a deviance in the path," Lyle complains, seated in an office chair.

A small figure drifts their office chair across the room, moving from their desktop workspace all the way to the workbench, "You've told me many things about this girl, you've told me all about your paths and journeys and whatever else you do," the workbench, decorated with tools and components to craft and work with. She grabs her desk-mounted magnifying glass and zoomed in on the motherboard, carefully picking it up with her paw, inspecting its wiring, but still attentive to the conversation. "But you have yet to mention anything about what's wrong with yourself." A raspy, aged, feminine voice scolds him.

"Isn't that the same thing? All these issues stemmed from her!" he whines.

"If anything, I see it as a good thing. I think many others would agree with that assessment." The grey lady, wearing a denim apron, puts the conversation on hold as she activates the mounted robotic arm with microtools attached, so she can begin working on the motherboard. " For varying reasons, of course."

Lyle gets up from his chair with enough irritation to send the chair flying across the room. "Sorry!" He apologises as he stretches himself to his limit to catch it before it goes out of control.

His carelessness earned him a scrutinising side eye from her with fur-raising hostility. "If you're to be unreasonable, then I advise you to leave my office," her suggestion coming out as a command.

Lyle shrank like a raisin. "I didn't mean to," his voice calm and neutral. "I can't come to terms with. I have all these..." he struggles to find the words to articulate it. "...everything Anais. I have everything hinging on this, I am hinging on it."

Her long ears and fur droop in pity. "You talk about this like you've become deaf and blind, and if that is the case, then be generous and donate your eyes to yours truly." She surgically extracts the ROM from the motherboard as she speaks. "They will be put in better use than on something unsightly, I suppose." Her tone dry as her humour.

Although unamused, Lyle couldn't deny her analogy. Years of always having his powers on hand had become as habitual as jogging; it had become his normal, making him forget what was normal. Lyle opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off.

"Even if you plead with your soul," she says as she discards the motherboard's decayed chip, cleaning off the adhesive that had kept it in place. "I won't let a blind man point to me on a map where Bali is, let alone give them a power like yours. It would be the irresponsible thing to do, I suppose."

Lyle sits back down, contemplative for a moment.

"However, I may be able to look the other way for some small favours." Anais's tone suggests it would be anything but.

"I'd do you those favours even if you didn't give me anything," he says, shifting his seat behind Anais.

Hearing the wheels approaching, she puts down the tools in her paw.

Lyle gets up to grab her from the seat, lifting her stout body with his hands sinking into her thick, grey fur. "After all, you're my favourite person," he says in a cutesy voice.

Anais kicks his face with enough force not to hurt him, but enough to get away. Pushing Lyle a few steps back

Landing perfectly on her fours, she dusts herself off, "As thanks for your consent, I'll tell you that such a case as this has only happened once."

"For real?" Surprise erupts from his voice. He stammers, trying to form and produce an enquiry, but he already receives an answer.

"Yes, and you are the first ever," she laughs cheaply as she hops back to her station, slightly setting her chair adrift. "However, the solution is simple or at least the ones I have."

Lyle hangs over her eagerly, his hands gripping the back of her chair.

"This isn't the same, but some forty-odd years ago, among the first second-generations, this one prodigy's abilities were developing wonderfully," fondness leaks from Anais, his hands gripping the back of her chair. "However, it felt a bit pekish and decided to snack on its host, and because the user couldn't tame it, they ended up eating themselves into a husk, unable to do anything."

Anais's stubby tail swooshed side by side as she carefully positioned a new component, not looking up from her work. "You're facing the opposite problem—you went on holiday while your powers were being put to work and now your powers are starting to feel pekish."

Lyle straightens up, nodding with exaggerated understanding of a dumbass while gesturing vaguely with his hands, "I see, I see, you make a compelling story that I fail to understand how that connects to me."

"That's exactly the problem." She paused her work, setting down her tools before swivelling her chair to look at him directly, her eyes sharp with concern. "Your cognitive ability is encroaching on an epiphany," Lyle's hairs raise. "Whether you pay attention or not, you are developing. But you've gotten lazy, like the captain."

"Like who?!" Lyle interjects, his voice rising as he leans forward aggressively, taking offence.

Anais's ears and hair lift slightly at his outburst, but she continues regardless of the interjection, turning back to her work with dismissive body language. "Your wonder has disappeared alongside your seer abilities."

Lyle throws his hands up in frustration. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your laissez-faire attitude brought about the mental block." She picks up a new tool, testing its weight in her paw. "The kind that may eat away your grey matter," she pauses, tapping the tool against her workbench as she pretends to think. "Or at least what is left of it, I wonder."

Lyle slumps back into an office chair behind her with exaggerated defeat. "So your solution is to begin attending university lectures and doing quizzes."

Anais scoffs, her whiskers twitching with amusement. "If that's what you think will do it, then go for it."

Sensing the sarcasm, he slouches on the seat. "Then I'm guessing that's where the 'small favours' come in."

"At this rate, you'll have your powers back in no time." Anais sets down her tools entirely, she spins in her chair, shoulders shaking as she barely contains her glee, a mischievous snicker escaping despite her attempts to stay icy.

She clears her throat and straightens her posture, her ears perking up from instinct despite her shift into a professional mode. "So, an easy starting point would be to get the girl and study the mark, decoding its evolution."

Lyle throws his hands up in exasperation, swivelling the chair in place. "Like she'd ever comply."

"You can read her memories, can you not?"

"That's the issue!" Lyle jolts straight up, his voice cracking with frustration. He runs his hands through his hair. "I can't for anybody."

"Well, how about the first incident when you thought you were being usurped, maybe that's a possible hint into your epiphany."

"I mean..." Lyle sinks back into his chair, his brow furrowing as he thinks of the previous application of his powers. His fingers drum against his thighs.

"Signs of cognitive displacement, instead of memories it's..." Anais provides hints as she tries to guide him toward the answer.

"I have a much easier time with the unconscious and subconscious, but working with someone fully conscious..." Lyle's eyes light up as ideas start sparking, and he leans forward eagerly, his hands moving as he deliberates.

"Think of it this way, your power is accessing memories across all aspects of the subconscious to determine what you call 'paths' for the person." Anais turned back to her work with practised efficiency, her small paws deftly speaking while she assembled components into a housing. "To use your own metaphors: you have seen her journey and taken a glimpse of the path, and now you'll be able to—"

"Walk through the path beside her and experience her journey as it unfolds." Lyle springs to his feet, his face brightening as clarity dawns upon him like a wave of fresh air.

A satisfied smile played at the corners of her mouth, invisible to Lyle. "Right about now, you'd be feeling a lot like your old self, proving you're catching up to your development."

"Holy Anais—" Lyle starts enthusiastically, gesturing wildly.

"Anaís!" she corrects the butchering sharply, whipping around in her chair to glare at him, her ears spiking in annoyance.

Lyle holds up his hands apologetically, "— So taking it easy was the issue."

"I did not say that." Anais's whiskers twitch with irritation as she turns back to her work, her movements becoming more precise and deliberate. "Your complacency, combined with continued advanced use of your talent, created the dissonance. You'll run out of cake to eat if you stop baking, nimrod." She doesn't look up as she scolds him, but her tail swishes with amusement. "While you figure that out, boy, I'll begin preparing to deliver my favours upon you." Her shoulders shook as she was unable to keep a gleeful giggle in.

Phoebe's lab hummed quietly in the late evening hours, most of the building long since emptied of students and faculty. She preferred it this way—no interruptions, no judgmental stares, her eyes reflecting the screen's glow. The slight twitch in her gaze as she focuses on the navy blue pixels of his eyes, barely visible through the maroon of his hair. She enhanced the image until his expression became clear, pure wonder. Her cheeks warmed as she watched his lips part slightly, the way his posture shifted forward. He'd been hanging on her every word, clearly captivated by her brilliance. The way he'd looked at the machine, then back at her—it's obvious what this means. Her mind deludes as it trembles.

Her eyes instinctually drew to the sudden movement and shifting from a brightly coloured silhouette. "That girl", she scorned.

She rewound to capture the exact moment Elise had stepped back from the machine. The way her shoulders tensed, how her hand drifted to her temple. Classic signs of my genius overloading an idiot, Phoebe, diagnosed with clinical detachment. Some minds simply aren't equipped to process revolutionary concepts.

She enhanced the image further, studying Elise's facial expression. The slight widening of her eyes, the barely perceptible retreat. Fear, any reasonable person might have concluded. But Phoebe saw something else entirely. Intellectual jealousy. She recognised that she was witnessing something beyond her comprehension and felt threatened by it. And by me.

Phoebe's fingers drummed against her desk as she watched Elise's body language throughout the tour. The way she'd positioned herself between Aris and the machine—protective, Phoebe noted. Possessive, acting like he's all hers. As if she could sense Aris's obvious attraction to someone with actual substance, and was trying to interfere.

A lesser mind with territorial instincts, she mentally filed away, unacademically. Some people simply operated on a more primitive level, threatened by brilliance they couldn't understand, driven by base emotions rather than intellect. Unlike dear Aris, who clearly belonged in an entirely different category altogether.

Phoebe rose from her chair with what she imagined was graceful authority, though her slight frame made the gesture feel smaller than intended. She moved to stand beside her machine, every step causing the ground to tremble; one hand rested on its surface, as if she were posing for a portrait.

That girl needs to be watched, she concluded, her free hand adjusting her hair in the reflection of the lab's glass partition. Constantly, closely. On a leash, perhaps.

She walked towards the bundled wiring coming out of its back and tugged at each wire slightly, ensuring it was secure. If no one has bothered to teach her proper conduct in her entire life, then it falls to me. Her fingers traced the elegant curves of her creation. I have a responsibility to prevent the world from drowning in ignoramuses.

She turned back to the frozen image on her screen, Elise's hand on Aris's arm, that possessive gesture that made Phoebe's stomach twist.

And maybe I'll show her how to act more ladylike instead of like a bumbling, handsy bitch. Her reflection caught in the machine's surface, and she straightened her posture, smoothing her hair. I honestly cannot fathom how Sir Aris came to be in such company.

Having made her checks and powered on the machine, she had done so for the first time since moving into her new office. The lights flowed green around the area, visualising power surging in. With the machine fully powered, the lights turned purple, displaying the lack of another fuel source. She stomped on top of her machine, the metal plating reverberating throughout the room, but it remained sturdy. She surged power, the omega conducted through. The purple glow gradually shifts to a bluer tone before settling into green, indicating a full charge and confirming the machine's conductivity, now deemed sufficient.