To: @thefireinthewire

From: @chessanator

A bonus gift for TheFireInTheWire, because you asked a question that needs an answer. It’s also an exercise in seeing how much I can write without mentioning the subject of the prompt (3440 words, as it turns out!).

Third in The Firetruck Trilogy (along with my other two gifts): Ao3 Link. I love trilogies!

Carlos looked down at the gun in his hand. He rested his finger against the trigger. Then, he raised his arm and steeled his nerves.

Black anger swept across his eyes.

A shot rang out.

And then, silence. Ten heartbeats passed.

“Your choice is made,” Zero – Delta – intoned. He grimaced. “Though, Carlos, I wish you had chosen to show mercy without wasting a bullet. In this unfair world, such careless decisions rarely pass lightly.”

The gun slipped from Carlos’ fingers and fell to the sand with a thud. He was sure – absolutely sure! – that he had aimed the gun straight at Delta’s heart. But it had gone wide: very far wide. It was like an entire moment was missing from the world, during which it had changed – if only slightly – without Carlos’ understanding or consent.

Delta continued speaking to the group of players, ignoring Carlos’ confusion. “I will be leaving now. You should do so as well. After all, you have a world to save. I wish you the best of luck.” Delta turned away and retreated through the entrance of D-Com, though Carlos barely saw him move before he was gone.

“So, what do we do now?” Mira asked.

Akane took charge, striding into the centre of the gathered group of players and turning to face them. “For now, we should just take care of our immediate needs. There’s no way we can consider what we’ve been told to do until they’re dealt with. Do we even know when we last ate?” After a pause, punctuated by shaking heads, Akane continued. “People from my organisation, Crash Keys, will be here shortly to pick us up. Until then…”

Akane’s voice trailed off into silence. Or rather, Carlos’ hearing of it did, for Akane’s lips were still moving. Gradually, new sounds started to pierce through Carlos’ sudden deafness. He heard the rumble of tires on gravel. He heard the crackle of an untuned radio. He heard a siren.

Lost in the noise, Carlos nearly jumped when someone squeezed his arm. It was Diana. “Carlos… You spaced out for a moment there. Are you alright?” she asked. The way she asked it made it seem like she done so several times.

“Yeah,” Carlos replied, “It’s nothing. Just some buzzing in my ears. I’ll be fine.” A sudden flash to a vehicle speeding down a rough track quickly proved those statements false.

But when Carlos’ eyes cleared, he continued to act as though nothing had happened, looking around at the others to try to catch up on what he had missed. It looked like Akane, Sigma and Phi had agreed on a plan of action, despite Junpei’s persistent attempts to monopolise Akane’s attention. On the other side of them were Eric and Mira, tentatively intertwining their hands. That left one other person, but Carlos didn’t see him immediately.

That was because Sean had wandered away from the group, looking out over the desert. “Hey! Do you guys hear that?” he asked, jumping up and down as he tried to increase his line of sight.

Eric grunted. “Geez. Of course we don’t, Sean. We’re not robots like you. There’s no way we’d be…”

Mira suddenly shushed Eric, pulling him back to face her and placing her hand over his chest. “Wait, Eric. I think he’s right. I hear something too.”

Carlos turned to face the direction that Sean was looking in, trying to hear the sound. He didn’t find it as difficult to hear as the others. It pounded in his ears as though it came from right in front of him. The siren.

Gradually, a red speck appeared on the horizon. It shot towards them, kicking up a cloud of sand behind it. After only a few seconds, a fire-engine skidded to a halt in front of them. A figure stepped from the driver’s seat, wearing full turnout gear, the helmet of which obscured their face.

The figure’s voice, muffled by the breathing equipment, called out. “I promised, didn’t I? That I’d come back for you… what? You’re… already out?” The person in the protective suit trailed off in confusion, then stumbled backwards.

Carlos stumbled as well. His vision shifted, and for a moment he found himself looking out through the visor, his body feeling like it was floating inside the suit. He saw all the players of the Decision Game from across the distance: all of them, including himself. When his sight snapped back into his own head, Carlos yelled, “Who are you?

As the figure flailed for balance against the side of the fire-truck, they answered. “I’m… I’m… Who are… you?” Eventually, they caught something to hold onto and, with their other hand free, ripped off the helmet. Carlos was able to see the man’s face for the first time.

The face was his own.

“No!” Carlos yelled. Thoughts and memories rushed chaotically into his mind: memories of a ten-month-long past that couldn’t possibly be his own. The views from both sides crossed over each other until nothing could be perceived in either of them. And his consciousness was pulled between both of the bodies, stretched to the point where it almost belonged to neither.

With mutual agonising screams, both Carlos and Carlos collapsed into the sand.

Carlos woke. He opened his eyes.

He found himself lying in a hard lumpy bed beneath a dim light that hung from a rust-covered ceiling. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that his bed was just one of a row of many. His bed – no, the entire room – was swaying beneath him. Carlos tried to crane his neck to look around.

A beam of bright light suddenly shot into his right eye. A second later, it darted over to his left. “He’s awake. His reactions are good.” Diana’s voice, calm and professional.

Excited, bounding footsteps clanged against the metal floor to Carlos’ left. Their owner skidded to a halt leaning above Carlos. Long blonde hair tickled his cheek. “Good morning, Big Bro! I guess I get to look after you this time.”

“Hey… Maria,” Carlos said to his sister, his voice still achingly weak, “Good to… see you.”

Maria opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by a curt voice from somewhere behind her. “Please step back, Maria. You’ll have time to talk to your brother later.”

As Maria stepped back, Carlos levered himself up the backrest of the bed until he could look out across the rest of the wide chamber that was the room he’d woken in. It had been Akane who had interrupted Maria, and she stood a couple of metres away past the far left corner of the bed, Junpei alongside her. To Carlos’ immediate right was Diana, wearing her nurse’s uniform and testing the IV that had been inserted into Carlos’ right arm. Finally, Sigma stood on the other side of room, half in shadow and with his arms folded solemnly – though he kept taking peeks at Diana’s back when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Hey, everyone,” Carlos said, “Where am I?”

Junpei stepped forward, shoving another bed aside to clear a path. “You’re gonna have to answer our question first. Which one are you, Carlos? The one who was with us the entire time? Or the one who showed up at the end in the fire-truck?”

Carlos squinted his eyes quizzically. “‘Which one?’ What: did you manage to mix us up?”

“Please, Carlos, answer the question.” Sigma’s voice was filled with stern paternal authority, carrying across the room from where he stood without him having to raise his voice at all.

“Alright. I drove the fire-truck back to D-Com.”

Junpei frowned.

“Junpei. That there’s a coherent answer to that question is a miracle beyond our wildest hopes.” Akane stepped forward, placing a hand on Junpei’s arm before walking past him and all the way up to Carlos’ bed. “Carlos, perhaps you can explain to us how everything happened from your perspective.”

Carlos recounted how he had been prevented from transporting with Akane and Junpei to the new timeline, and how he’d realised that they would have both found themselves trapped in the bunker once they arrived. He then explained how he’d shifted to a third timeline where the transporter was still usable, jumping back ten months so that the transporter would be powered again by the time the Decision Game started.

“You still should have tried to stop Zero’s plan,” Junpei muttered under his breath.

“And once the Decision Game started, I came back to help both of you get out,” Carlos concluded. He paused. “But… you were already out. That’s what I don’t get. How had you already escaped? And… how on Earth was there another me there?”

“Carlos,” Akane said with an almost patronising weariness, “You went back in time ten months. You went back to before the game had even begun. All of its possibilities were still open, including this one, and you thus ended up in all the possible timelines that resulted from the game. Every single possible Decision Game had a Carlos waiting outside it. In another timeline, you did find Junpei and me trapped there, and saved us. But in this timeline, we were set free by Zero right at the very beginning. When you arrived, that is what you saw.”

There was a long pause as Carlos processed that news. “So… that’s where the other me came from. He was the one originally from this timeline.”

“You could say that,” Akane replied.

Maria leapt forward again. “Yay! I have two Big Bros now!” She wrapped her hands around Carlos’ shoulders and hugged him tightly. “Isn’t that great!”

Carlos stroked the back of his sister’s hair. “That’s right, Maria. We’re together again. Both… All three of us.” Placing his hand firmly against the mattress, he began to rise from the bed.

Diana’s hand planted itself firmly against Carlos’ right shoulder. With surprising strength, she forced Carlos to lie back down.

“Diana!” Carlos yelped with alarm, “What are you…?”

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” Diana said, “I can’t let you get up yet. Doctor’s orders.”

“But I’m fine!” Carlos exclaimed, “I’m better now! I’m as fit and healthy as I’ve ever been. I feel great!”

Diana closed her eyes, clearly holding back tears. She stammered as she spoke “Carlos… I never thought I’d have to tell anyone something as difficult as this. Please, ready yourself.”

Carlos did so.

“Carlos… you’ve been effectively brain-dead. For nine months.”

“What?” Carlos shivered. His right hand moved to cradle his head by pure reflex. “How can… What happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” Diana said sorrowfully, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.”

Akane’s voice cut across the room. “For lack of a better way to describe it,” she said, “this is Reverie Syndrome.”

“I thought that all cleared up,” Diana replied, tilting her head, “when we finished the game.”

Maria nodded, then pointed an accusing finger at Akane. “Yeah! That’s right! I’m awake, aren’t I? That’s because Reverie Syndrome’s gone for good.”

“In general, yes. But Carlos’ case is more… specific.” Akane looked at Diana and bowed her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I wanted to be absolutely sure about the details first.”

“What Akane means by that,” Junpei interrupted, “is that she gets a perverse pleasure from knowing things that other people don’t, and wanted to drag that out as long as possible. Seriously, the first time we got a room to ourselves, she…”

“Shush, Junpei.” Once Junpei was quiet, Akane turned back towards Carlos, Maria and Diana. “Where the original Reverie Syndrome was caused by the looming threat of the end of the world, and therefore affected many people to varying but lesser degrees, the problem we have here only affects Carlos and does so totally. Simply put, Carlos’ Reverie Syndrome is caused by the fact that there are two of him in this world.”

Sigma stepped forward across the room, out of the half-shadow he had stood in. “You know, I have been wondering about something. Every time we used the transporter, those people found themselves in a timeline where they were already dead. I thought it was just coincidence, but… there never are any coincidences with this, are there? It must have been a safety feature of the transporter itself, to prevent this from ever happening. Carlos seems to have found the only way to force it to break.”

Akane nodded. “It’s likely that sharing the Morphogenetic field with another version of yourself is dangerous to everyone. But when that person is a powerful esper – one who has recently undergone a Unison Event, at that – the results were catastrophic.”

Carlos clenched his fists. That the abilities he had only just developed could harm him – nearly kill him – was sickening. He knew how to fight a fire. Fighting the Morphogenetic field couldn’t possibly be done. “If that’s what happened… How am I even awake right now?”

“You asked earlier where we are,” Akane replied. She gestured around the plain white walls of the hospital bay, her arm swaying as the room continued to rock. “Welcome to the Gigantic. She’s a sister-ship to the Titanic, and was used as a hospital ship by the British during World War One. We have her sailing in the Pacific Ocean, only a few hundred miles from the coast of Japan. The other version of you is in a facility with a replica of this room back in the Nevada desert.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Junpei said, “but when Hongou set up both the boat and that building, wasn’t the entire point of it that esper abilities still worked over that distance?”

Akane blushed. “Well, um… yes.” She pointed at Carlos. “It worked, didn’t it?! At the very least, we got the two of them on different day-night cycles. And I’m sure that keeping them in identical conditions helped stabilise the fluctuations in Morphogenetic field. See? I was thinking about this.”

“I’ve been flying back and forth since I woke up,” Maria explained, “I wanted to be able to say ‘Good Morning,’ and ‘Goodnight,’ to both of you, just like you did.”

There was a short pause. Then, Diana sighed. “If what you’re telling us is true,” Diana said, “then… We can’t keep this up. We can’t just keep Carlos here forever. He could relapse at any moment… or worse.”

The room fell into silence. In that deafening silence, Carlos realised what had to be done.

“If the reason I’m sick is because there are two of me, then…” Carlos said unsteadily, “one of us has to die.”

Both Diana and Maria gasped. Maria squeezed him tighter. “No! Big Bro! Carlos!”

Carlos patted her on the head; his hand gently guided her away. “It’s okay, Maria.” Then he raised his voice so that what he said next was announced to everyone. “If one of us has to die, then it should be me.”

“The other Carlos volunteered as well,” Akane said, “during his brief moment of lucidity.”

Sigma clasped his hand and pursed his lips. “You know… they both agreed to this very quickly. Far too quickly.” He paused for a few moments, frowning. “We should all get ourselves checked. There’s still a chance that…”

“Goddamnit, Sigma!” Junpei interrupted, “Not everything is about Radical-6! Look, I get it. Your Nonary Game was all about the stuff, so I can understand why you’d get a little obsessed. But seriously, Carlos is just like that. A one-hundred-percent self-sacrificing hero.”

“Thanks, Junpei.” After nodding to Junpei, Carlos held out his hand to Maria. “Don’t worry, Maria. It’s not the end. When I’m gone, the other me will wake up. You’ll still have your Big Bro.” After gently caressing Maria’s hand, Carlos let go and turned his head towards Diana. “Diana, can you take Maria away now, please? She shouldn’t have to…”

“No!” Maria cried out. Tears crashed down her cheeks. “I won’t leave you! I have to be brave like you are, so I have to stay!”

“Maria,” Carlos interrupted sternly but gently, “I know you are brave. But you have to think about the other me as well. He won’t know anything about this. You have to be able to look at his face – my face – without thinking about someone who’s died. Can you do that, Maria? For me?”

Maria averted her eyes. “You’re right, Big Bro. I should go.” She turned, took one step away, then turned back. “I love you, Carlos.”

“Thank you, Maria. It was good to see you awake again,” Carlos replied.

When Maria had left the hospital room, it fell mournfully silent. Four pairs of grieving, conflicted eyes burned into Carlos. Eventually, he felt forced to speak.

“So… How are we going to do this?” Carlos asked.

After a couple of seconds, Akane drew a syringe filled with a clear white liquid from her pocket. “This is Soporil Beta. It’s an anaesthetic. That way, you’ll go without any pain.”

“That makes sense,” Carlos replied.

Akane passed the syringe to Diana. Diana carefully examined the liquid inside, then squirted a little out the end. Even when satisfied, she didn’t use it immediately. Instead, she asked Carlos, “Is there anything you’d like to say, before…”

“Last words, huh? I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Carlos’ forehead scrunched up as he considered. Eventually, he shook his head. “No. I think I’ll leave that for the me who’ll carry one living. Go ahead, Diana. I’m ready.”

Diana nodded, then placed the tip of the needle against the IV. She took a deep breath, and then pierced the tube. With her hands steady only because of years of training, she placed her thumb on the plunger. “Goodbye, Carlos.”

And then, at that moment, Sigma leapt forward. “Stop!”

Diana had frozen in place. She hadn’t injected the Soporil. “S-Sigma?” she stammered.

“We can’t do this!” Sigma shouted.

Akane sighed. “It’s terrible, I know. But unless we do this, Carlos will never have a proper life. It’s a tough decision, but one that has to be taken, just like the Nonary Game you had to run to get here.”

“There’s another way!” Sigma strode towards Diana. “Diana, please. If you trust me, take that thing out of there. Please.”

Diana did so, instantly.

Akane’s voice took on a curious lilt. “Explain, Sigma.”

“You said that the cause of Carlos’ illness was that there are two of him in this timeline,” Sigma said.

Junpei snorted. “We’ve been over this, Sigma.”

“Yes, but we didn’t talk about the key point!” Sigma exclaimed, “The problem isn’t anything to do with Carlos’ body. The problem is Carlos’ mind. Our only problem is that Carlos’ mind is in this world.”

“Sigma, what are you…?” Akane paused. She smiled. “Of course…”

Carlos wriggled in the bed. “Can someone explain to me what you’re talking about?”

“We don’t have to kill you,” Sigma said, “All we have to do is shift your mind out of this world.”

Carlos gasped, then groaned. “Would that even help? All that’d happen is that world’s version of me would take my place, and then they’d be in the same situation I am. I couldn’t do that to them.”

“Yes. There are a lot of constraints here,” Akane said, stroking her chin, “As Carlos says, we can’t just switch him with another version of himself. We’d have to find a way to shift him into the body of an entirely different person, if that’s even possible.”

“It is,” Sigma stated firmly.

“We’d have to ensure Carlos didn’t exist in that world. Then person who Carlos swaps with would have to be a powerful esper, or it wouldn’t work. And then we’d need to be absolutely certain that person doesn’t exist in this world either. Sigma… Can you be sure that this shift will fulfil all that at once? Because if you fail, you’ll only make the problem far worse.”

Sigma nodded confidently. “I’m certain. I know just the person it’ll work with.” He trailed off, mumbling, “Someone I haven’t seen for a good long time.”

“Spit it out, Sigma,” Junpei said, “I don’t want to die of old age before finding out what your crazy plan is.”

Sigma stepped forward once more until he was right beside Diana at the edge of Carlos’ bed. “Carlos, I believe I remember telling you, back when we first met in D-Com, that I was from the future. Forty-five years in the future. You didn’t believe me then, of course, but after what we all experienced in the Decision Game I hope you’ll believe me now.”

Carlos nodded.

“During that time,” Sigma continued, “I had a son. His name is Kyle. If there is one thing I regret, about jumping back in time and preventing the Radical-6 outbreak, it is that I had to leave Kyle behind to do it. At the time, there was no other way. But… if there was any chance I could see my son again…” Sigma fell silent, gazing pleadingly into Carlos’ eyes.

“Of course!” Carlos’ mouth burst into a broad smile. “I’d already agreed to die. Now I get to keep on going, and do some good at the same time.”

“Are you sure?” Sigma asked nervously, “The future I’m talking about is the one where we failed to stop the outbreak. Civilisation has ended, there. I wouldn’t say life there is meaningless, but it is rarely comfortable.”

“Sigma, I’m a firefighter. Diving into dangerous places to save lives is my job. There’s no way I’d ever refuse.”

“Thank you, Carlos. Thank you so very much.” Sigma’s voice stayed quiet; his vocal chords couldn’t believe, even as his conscious mind knew that Carlos had agreed.

“So how do we do this?” Carlos asked.

Sigma pondered. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but… I should be able to guide you there. Kyle is my son, so I should be able to use that bond to direct your mind into his body and bring Kyle safely back here.” He placed one knee on the edge of the mattress and reached his hand out towards Carlos

Carlos took a deep breath. He steadied himself and concentrated, preparing for the biggest shift he would ever take. Finally, he took Sigma’s hand. “Go ahead, Sigma. I’m ready.”

“Goodbye, Carlos.”

The mind in Carlos’ body woke. He opened his eyes.

He found himself lying in a hard lumpy bed beneath a dim light that hung from a rust-covered ceiling. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that his bed was just one of a row of many. His bed – no, the entire room – was swaying beneath him.

Someone was standing in front of him and just to his right, half-leaning on the bed. A man. The mind in Carlos’ body craned his neck up and was able to see the man’s face for the first time.

The face was his own.

Suddenly the man’s phone rang. He awkwardly drew it from his pocket and placed it against his ear. The call connected, and a voice started coming through the phone, loud enough to hear.

“Did you feel that?” The voice seemed very familiar, though he couldn’t quite place where he had heard it before. Phi: was that her name? Phi continued speaking. “That ripple in the Morphogenetic field was massive. You have to have felt it! What could have caused…?” Phi cut off sharply. When she spoke again, she only had a single question. “Where is Kyle Klim, Sigma?”

Sigma. That name was familiar too. Impossible as it seemed, there could be no doubt about the identity of the man standing by the bed. “Father?” Kyle asked.

Sigma looked down at Kyle. He beamed proudly. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “He’s here,” Sigma answered into the phone, “Kyle’s finally here.”

On Christmas day, 2029, the doorbell rang: a single solid buzz, followed seconds later by an excited melody as the button was pressed again. Kyle answered. He looked out through the opened door at the two people who stood there. “Ah, hello. Carlos and… Maria, right?”

Maria’s mouth dropped open as she pointed straight at Kyle’s new face. “Whoa! T-That’s so… weird! It’s like you’re nearly Big Bro, but not quite. So weird!”

“Maria…” Carlos interrupted awkwardly.

“Sorry, Big Bro,” Maria said sheepishly.

“Still, it is strange,” Carlos murmured, studying Kyle intensely, “It’s not just the hair…”

Kyle’s hand reached up automatically and stroked through his hair, which he had let grow untidily out of Carlos’ crew-cut and then dyed jet-black.

“It’s everything,” Carlos continued, “The entire way you hold yourself. From your posture, it’s clear you’ve never been down a pole in your life. Akane and Junpei told me what had happened, but actually seeing you… It’s something different.”

“I’m glad I have been able to differentiate myself from you enough,” Kyle replied. He stroked his hair again. “I felt that you had, ah, priority on your original appearance.”

A voice called from deeper inside the house. “Kyle! Are you going to invite them in yet?” Phi strode up and peeked past Kyle and through the open door.

“Ah, Phi!” Kyle exclaimed, “We were just talking about how I’ve started dying my hair since I got back. I’ve yet to properly thank you for getting it for me.”

“Well…” Phi shrugged. “I was already buying all my white hair dye from them; with yours as well I qualify for the bulk discount. And…” Phi tilted her head. “It suits you a lot better this way.”

Phi and Kyle led Maria and Carlos through to the spacious lounge. Sigma and Diana were already there, cuddling on the long sofa by the fire, watching the Christmas movie that played on the television. As everyone entered Sigma and Diana turned to greet them.

“Hey, Carlos, Maria!” Sigma exclaimed, “Come on in!”

Carlos sat down in the armchair closest to the sofa and replied to Sigma. “Thanks for having us. It’s a shame Akane and Junpei couldn’t come with us, but they’re still on their honeymoon. They sent me Christmas cards to pass on to you, though.” Carlos took the cards from inside his coat and added them to the large pile on top of the coffee table.

Maria bounded over to the window on the other side of the lounge and stared out into the garden beyond. “Whoa! This place is huge.”

Diana shrugged. “We never know when we might need the room.”

“That’s right,” Phi said as she strode over to the other armchair and flopped down into it, “When things go down, they go down in the Nevada desert. We need all the space we can to prepare for that stuff. Plus, we’re a big family.” Phi glanced over at Kyle, still hovering by the doorway, and smiled.

Carlos gazed around the room. “The mortgage on a place like this has to be pretty hefty, though.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Sigma said, “We didn’t need one in the end. We’d managed to scrape together the down-payment between Diana’s promotion and my new job…” Indeed, Sigma had finally managed to officially become Dr. Klim, forty-five years after he had first been called that.

“And that’s when Phi dropped two hundred thousand dollars on the table and bought the whole place outright,” Diana explained. She paused. “Phi… where did you…?”

“Nope,” Phi interrupted, “Not talking about it, no matter how much you ask me.”

Maria skipped back over and sat down, perching keenly on the armrest of Carlos’ chair. “So, you’re loaded, Phi?”

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” Phi replied.

Kyle watched from the door as the others began to open the Christmas cards, one by one. One came from Diana’s colleagues, congratulating her for finally moving on from her ex-husband. Another came from Sigma’s doctoral supervisor, rather meekly apologising for keeping Sigma at the office the year before. And, of course, there were cards from the many people they had met due to the Nonary Games.

“Ooh! Here’s one from Delta,” Diana exclaimed, fishing that card from the pile. “Let’s see… ‘To Mom and Dad and Sister and Brother’… How does Delta know about…?”

Phi plucked the Christmas card from Diana’s fingers and flicked it into the fire. “Ignore it,” she said, “That old bastard never misses a chance to be creepy.”

They were about halfway through the pile of envelopes when the television screen flickered and the face of a young boy replaced the movie. It took Kyle a moment to recognise that face, but it belonged to the boy that the robot named Sean was based on. When Sigma had offered to make Sean a more human-like head, that was the face Sean had chosen.

“Hey, everyone. Merry Christmas!” Sean said, his voice playing through the television’s speakers.

“Hi, Sean,” Diana replied, “What brings you here?”

“Um… Eric’s visiting Mira in jail right now. I wanted to connect you both together so we could have a really big Christmas thing together. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Sigma replied.

“You can do that?” Carlos asked, “Show Eric and Mira everything that’s happening here, and the other way round?”

“I’m in the big powerful computer now. I can see everything!” Sean explained, “I’ll bring them up on the screen now.”

The image on the screen changed again. Everyone looked at it, just for a second. They quickly averted their eyes.

“Sean, dear…” Diana started to say.

“Yeah, Diana?” Sean’s face – smiling innocently – reappeared on the screen, covering a rather fortunate patch of it.

“I think Eric and Mira want a little private time,” Diana explained.

“Oh! Okay.” The image went black for a second and then the movie started playing again, though Sean’s face remained in the top left corner. “You were opening Christmas cards earlier, right? Do you want to carry on? Can I watch?”

“Of course.” With that, Sigma reached back down towards the pile.

“Wait, Sigma,” Phi said.

“Huh?”

“There’s one card in there that definitely has to be opened next.” Phi leaned across and shuffled the envelopes around. “This one. The one addressed specifically to Kyle.”

Kyle stepped forward unsurely. “Phi. It’s, ah, okay…”

“No, Kyle. You’ve been standing over there for, what, half an hour? This is your Christmas, too,” Phi said.

Sigma looked over towards Kyle. Kyle saw in his father’s eyes something he hadn’t seen for a long time. Shame, and guilt.

“Don’t worry, Father, I’m…” Kyle started to say.

“I have not been the best father for you,” Sigma stated, his voice filled with a solemn weight, “I have too often been distracted by other things. But everything is supposed to be over now, and I am still missing things I should be noticing. I’m sorry.” Sigma shuffled closer to Diana, so there was space on the sofa next to him. “Come over here and tell me what’s wrong.”

“No, Father, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to, ah, ruin everyone’s Christmas,” Kyle said. With a deep sigh, he turned around and left the lounge.

By one minute later, Phi had dragged Kyle back into the room and placed him onto the sofa next to Sigma.

Leaning out so she could look at Kyle past Sigma, Diana said, “It’s okay to talk about whatever it is that’s worrying you. It doesn’t mean that anyone’s done anything bad, just that there’s something we can do better at. And it’s better than letting it fester: that’s something I learned very well over the past few years.”

Kyle took a deep breath, trying to put his unease into words. “I’m grateful that you found a way for me to come to this timeline. And I’m grateful to all three of you that you have allowed me to live in your home. It’s more than I could possibly deserve. All of you were the ones who saved the world from Radical-6. I merely showed up after the end: a, ah, hanger-on. I am out of place, here.”

Phi snorted. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as being in place or being out of place. There’s no-one who can tell you that you don’t belong somewhere; you can take whatever destiny you choose for yourself. And if you asked any of us, we’d tell you that you belong here.”

Kyle shook his head. “I tell myself that I do not belong. I feel it. This…” Kyle patted his chest, “This is not my body. I stole it from someone else.”

Carlos replied, “I can’t be certain what the other me was thinking, back then, but I’d have made the same decision.”

“Being in Big Bro’s body just make you that much more huggable!” Maria exclaimed. She then demonstrated, first around Carlos’ shoulders before dancing over to cuddle Kyle as well.

Sean piped up from where he was in the television as well. “I don’t know much about you, Kyle, so I’m sorry if this is completely wrong. Um… it probably will be. But Sigma and Phi told me a little bit about what happened to you, and I think it was kind of like what happened to me at the end of our game. It felt really weird, the helmet and the not-having-memories-of-things. I spent a lot of time thinking I was the odd one out. But if you want to like people and they want to like you back, everything just sort of works out okay.”

Even surrounded by the encouragement of family and friends, Kyle struggled: deep down, he was unconvinced. “I thank you all. But… I have done nothing to deserve this.”

Phi interrupted. “Tell you what, Kyle. Take a look at that Christmas card I pointed out. Talk afterwards.”

Gingerly, Kyle removed that envelope from among the other and turned it between his fingers, inspecting it. Within the gold trimmed border, drawn so that it was crossing the sealed flap, was a picture of a rabbit.”

“Huh? Isn’t that one of the ones that Akane asked us to bring?” Maria asked.

“Yes, I think it was,” Carlos replied, “Get it open, Kyle. I want to hear what Akane has to say.”

Kyle carefully opened the envelope. Inside, he did not only find a Christmas card. He found an entire letter with it. Kyle unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read aloud.

“Dear Kyle,

“As this timeline drifts from the one in which you were born, I become less and less able to connect with it. I will now never be the Akane Kurashiki that you knew. But I do still know that you once called that Akane ‘Mother.’

“I also know that there is much she wished to tell you before you left, but was unable to because you left that timeline because you woke up. That is the reason I decided to tell you this through a letter rather in person: the rest of this letter is her final message to you. She should say it, not me.

“Kyle. The mind that has replaced you in your body has just awoken here, and it has already become clear that he is not you. I can only hope that means you have safely made it back to some point in the past. Which past, and which version of that past, we do not know.

“It is entirely possible that you did not arrive in the timeline we would have hoped for. If that is so, then I wish you the best of luck. Though any future with Radical-6 in it is dire, it is clear that you have the skill and determination to survive there.

“I believe, though, your father succeeded: both in preventing the outbreak and in reuniting with you. In which case, you are now living in a world with a golden future, surrounded by a loving family, where every possible threat has been ended and every possible problem has been fixed. And, if I know you as well as I think I do, you are feeling that something is wrong.

“There is a reasoning that is obvious, but mistaken. Having woken up in another man’s body with this feeling, you perhaps started to wonder if that was what was troubling you. But if there is one thing I have learned from my four Nonary Games, it is that minds are far more important than bodies. In time, you will learn that too. Instead, I want to focus on the root cause of your unease.

“Most likely, you are feeling frustrated by inaction. Just as likely, Sigma hasn’t realised.”

Akane’s writing became a bit untidy there, but Kyle quickly interpreted it and carried on reading.

“It is understandable. After Sigma was first ripped from his everyday life, he has spent forty-five years trying to create the world where everything was back to normal. He has finally achieved all his dreams. It is not a surprise, then, that he would expect everyone else to be happy as well as he finally settles down.

“But that is not you, Kyle. You were born to help save the world. You grew up knowing that you would play a pivotal role in the AB Project: maybe even lead it if Sigma failed. And then, when the time came, you played that Nonary Game only as an amnesiac; in the key timeline you did not play it at all. If you feel as though you have been wasted – as though you have been written out of the story of your life – that feeling is justified.

“But know this, Kyle. The world will always need espers. Your day will come sooner than you think.

“With Love,

“Akane.”

Kyle tremored slightly as he folded up the letter and placed it back on the table. His deepest feelings had been laid bare. With nervous eyes, he looked around the room, waiting for everyone’s reactions.

To Kyle’s surprise, Maria was the first to speak. “Hey. Carlos,” she said.

“Yeah?” Carlos replied.

“Kyle looks a lot more like you, now.” Maria tilted her head to the side and squinted and Kyle and Carlos in turn. “Not, like, normal you. More like you when you first joined the Firefighter’s Academy. Or when you saved me as our house burned down. Like that.”

Carlos nodded and grinned. “I think you’re right about that.”

As the immediate jolt of reading Akane’s letter faded away, Kyle realised that the response of only one person mattered. He turned his head to the side and looked directly at Sigma. “Father.”

Tears glistened in Sigma’s eyes. “I only wanted to keep you safe, Kyle.”

“I know, Father. You’ve kept me safe my entire life. But, ah…” Kyle shivered. He forced himself to say the words. “I cannot stay cooped up any longer. Either in Rhizome 9 or here.”

“Okay.” Sigma let out a deep breath. Through Sigma’s eyes Kyle could see a weight being lifted from his heart. Suddenly, Sigma spoke to the entire room. “I know we weren’t planning on doing it ’til later, but is it okay if I start on the presents now?”

When he had everyone’s assent, he stood up and left the room, returning almost immediately with an envelope. He sat down next to Kyle again and opened it up, taking two pieces of paper from inside. He presented them to Kyle: one in each hand.

Kyle peered at them. “Plane tickets? To Helsinki?”

“The people at Crash Keys located a community of espers in Lapland. Northern Finland. There’s a chance a human-trafficking ring is moving to exploit them, so they wanted a two us to go there and check it out. I’d intended on taking Phi with me, but… Now, the decision seems obvious. Kyle?”

“Of course!” Kyle exclaimed. Then, he paused. “If that’s okay with you, Phi?” he asked meekly.

“Hmm…” Phi scratched her chin. “Well, I wouldn’t have minded going with you, Kyle, but… ah, what the hell: get the father-son-bonding-thing out the way. There’ll always be another time.”

“Thank you, Phi.” Kyle turned back to Sigma and held out his hand. “Merry Christmas, Father.”

Sigma placed one of the tickets in Kyle’s hand. It took a second for them to properly connect, but then Sigma’s hand grasped Kyle’s firmly; the paper of the plane ticket in between was a resounding connection, not a barrier.

“Merry Christmas, Son,” Sigma replied.

? wandered through the corridors of Rhizome 9. His head ached with confusion. Akane had just told him that he was not Kyle Klim, even though that was the body he occupied. Though ? knew that was the undeniable truth, he still couldn’t comprehend why he only had memories of Kyle’s past and the Nonary Game Kyle had played a role in, rather than memories of his own.

The thoughts of that Nonary Game directed ? towards the one last place where he might find the answers he needed to understand his identity. The last puzzle room that Sigma and Phi had needed to solve was the Q room – the home of the quantum computer – and the mysteries of their game had finally started to reveal themselves there. Maybe the same would happen for ?.

He made his way there; he knew where it was, just as he knew everything else about the Rhizome 9 facility. As he entered the Q room ? was momentarily blinded by the sheer uniform whiteness, but then he saw a figure he did not expect the see.

It was Dr. Klim.

“Doctor?” ? asked, stumbling back with surprise. “I thought you were supposed to be sleeping.”

The Doctor turned around, spreading his arms; a welcoming gesture turned sour by his actions as Zero Sr. and the imposing silhouette it cast. “I was, for a time. But I was kept awake. You see, I was thinking about the nature of perception.”

“Hell of a thing to keep you awake. I think Akane has been rubbing off on you,” ? replied.

“That is exactly what I am talking about,” Doctor Klim said, “You see me acting in certain ways or others, but perceive Akane rather than myself. There are more extreme examples, of course. From the inside, a person may see themselves as the centre of everything that happens around them. But when they finally get the chance to see themselves from the outside, not only do they see themselves entirely differently – that is, as others see them – but they also see themselves as only half-there, a mere projection as it were, compared to the vibrancy of their inner life. Perhaps it is only by moving to another medium that a person like that can be entirely present, their true selves, even when perceived by the third person.”

? fidgeted. “That’s very interesting, Doctor,” he said, trying to prevent his impolite frown from forming, “but… I came here looking for a way to find out who I am. I don’t think I’ll be able to really appreciate any philosophy until then.”

Doctor Klim smiled, faintly. “I am beginning to believe that the thoughts that kept me awake are entirely related to your situation. After all, your presence here has everything to do with the abilities of espers and the morphogenetic field. There never are any coincidences with this, are there?” Doctor Klim paused for a second, thought deeply, then continued. “You have spoken to many people within this facility since you awoke. All of them had at least some inclination that you were not Kyle Klim, and Phi and Akane knew outright. I suspect Luna did as well. You must have noticed that none of them ventured to ask where you had come from, only discussing your past in the vaguest terms possible.”

“That’s right!” ? exclaimed, “Why wouldn’t they…”

“They were worried about perception,” the Doctor interrupted, “They have only known the one timeline resulting from the Mars Mission test of 2028: that of Radical-6. From your perspective, you have one specific history, which is either from that timeline or not. From ours, we have been constantly afraid, from the moment you woke, that our knowledge of the timeline of the outbreak would guarantee that past for you. The future affecting the past.”

“You’re worrying about Kyle, right? You’re worrying about where he’s gone to?”

“Always,” Doctor Klim replied.

“But… But, but, but!” ? spluttered, “Even I don’t know where I came from! I don’t have any memories of any Radical-6 outbreak, or anything else! I don’t have a past!”

Doctor Klim bowed his head. “Exactly. Your uncertain history makes our perceptions all the more dangerous.” For a moment, the Doctor clasped his hands together, moving them from side to side uncertainly. Then, he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps a different model is necessary. Consider, for instance… the termite.”

Doctor Klim swept his arm around, gesturing at the wall. Where his palm passed over them, the white panels rippled and unfolded, opening up the compartments within. ? knew about the puzzle components that they had previously contained, but this time they revealed something different: an entire termite farm extending into the room. As the termites that had been on the surface of the five towers of the mound scattered, fleeing the light, ? peered in curiously.

“I know you like these things: after all, you used them to give that lecture to your younger self. But what do they have to do with me?”

“Everything. At least, I think so.” Doctor Klim pointed towards the bottom of the mound, at a termite that had been sluggish in retreating back inside. “Each individual termite knows very little of the situation that surrounds the mound it lives in. It obeys its genetic programming and the chemical signals laid down by the rest of its colony. That is the lowest possible level of knowledge. That termite knows less than you, who has lost his memory entirely.

“That the individual termite knows little does not prevent the colony as a whole from knowing much more. It is clear that the colony is able to react to information from its surroundings, detailing soldier termites to respond to threats and worker termites to harvest sources of food. For its limited cognitive capabilities, the ability of a colony to build its mound, nourish and defend it is quite impressive.

“But outside of the termite farm, our knowledge and understanding is infinitely greater than that of the colony, never mind the individual termite. I believe that it is that greater understanding, that Third View, that will save you.”

? snorted. “That was very impressive, Doctor, but I think you are going to have to explain it a bit more straightforwardly.”

“Very well.” Doctor Klim pointed straight at ?. “You have lost your memories, and know only about the situation you are in and nothing about your past. Your view, the First View, is unfortunately limited.”

Then, the Doctor reversed his finger, pointing at himself. “We, the residents of Rhizome 9, know some things about the timelines that possibly followed that Mars Mission and to your history. We have a limited ability to react to your condition and make choices that will prevent the worst case scenario, just as a termite colony is capable of defending itself. Indeed, that is what everyone has been doing from the moment you arrived here. But the full, true nature of the situation eludes us; we cannot act outside our bounds.”

“And the Third View?” ? asked.

“It is possible that there is a viewpoint that has seen everything leading up to this moment.” The Doctor gestured again, reaching out his palm in a direction that seemed to ? to be completely at random. “For this Third View, my worries are a trivial epilogue to a completed story; Kyle is already safe in the timeline I never got to see. And, just as these termites have relied on me for the past forty-five years to provide food and shelter to keep the colony alive and stable, so I must place my absolute trust in this Third View. As such, I have decided that it is time for me to finally tell you who I think you are.”

“Finally!” ? exclaimed, “Please, tell me!”

Doctor Klim took a deep breath. “First, remember everything you have been told so far. It was all true, from a certain point of view, and thus entirely necessary to understanding your situation. You were, indeed, an extra variable in the scenario of the Mars Mission test site. Though it seemed that everyone had accounted for your presence, you turned up where no-one had expected you and changed everything, again and again and again.

“Akane must also have told you that the rules do not apply to you. I’m not entirely sure exactly what she meant by that, but it is clear that in reaching this place, you have faced and then broken out of the restrictions that bind most espers. One in particular should have brought you to death’s door and yet here you are, entirely healthy.

“And finally, the most important thing of all. Akane told you that you were the only one who could save the world. That is entirely true. After all, we would have had no chance at all of preventing the outbreak without you… Carlos.”

Memories rushed into ?’s mind. ‘Carlos’. That… that was his name. And that name came with a past: several pasts, in fact, linked by an inextricable web of time-travel. But only one of them applied to the Carlos that had arrived in Kyle’s body; once that one was locked down in his memory, Carlos’ turmoil was over. “How did you know?” Carlos asked.

As Carlos watched the man in front of him, a wide, beaming grin appeared on his face: one alien to the solemn and seemingly cruel Zero Sr., but entirely suited to Sigma. “I know myself,” Sigma replied, chuckling, “and I know you. There was no other way this could have happened.” For a moment, Sigma shivered, his internal conflict controlled in his remaining natural eye but unambiguously conveyed by the swivels of the replacement right eye. “I have to ask, now… Which timeline did you come from? Where did Kyle go to? Did Radical-6…?”

“It was contained,” Carlos replied, “Destroyed, even. Radical-6 won’t be infecting anyone, ever again.”

Sigma exhaled, pressing his right arm against his chest as though to keep his heart from exploding. “Thank you, Carlos. I never quite believed… that we’d ever succeed in defeating the virus, in any timeline. I guess my perceptions are as wrong as everyone else’s. I’m glad of that.”

Sigma and Carlos just stood with each other for a while. Mutual relief made it unnecessary to say anything at all; they just soaked up the moment and everything it meant. But eventually, even that moment passed.

Sigma sighed. “Carlos. I guess it’s finally time for you to decide what you are going to do now you are here. After all, this is an entirely new timeline for you. You could choose to stay here, on the Moon, in Rhizome 9. You’d be welcome, here.”

“Hmm…” Carlos murmured, “I’m grateful, but it doesn’t sound… right. You know?”

“I figured you’d say that,” Sigma replied, “There’s an entire world down there teetering on the edge but ready to finally start thriving once more. I wouldn’t say life down there is comfortable, but for someone like you… what you do down there will be incredibly meaningful.”

“You do know me,” Carlos said, chuckling, “So, where should I start? Any fires really need putting out?”

“Steady up there, Carlos! A fireman needs a fire-station to start from, after all. And I know just the place.”

Sigma waved at the other wall of the Q room, where the panels slipped aside to reveal a large screen. A map of the world appeared there, before it started the zoom in, first on the United States and then on the southern half of it. As Carlos blinked, the map was colour-coded: a swath of vibrant green cutting across the murky red along the banks of the Colorado river.

“That’s one of the largest communities to have formed since humanity recovered from the outbreak and the nuclear winter that followed. At its centre is a town named Fire’s End. Not many people know it, but the version of you from this timeline was one of the founders.”

“That sounds interesting,” Carlos replied. He was still uncertain, and it showed through in his voice.

“There’s something else,” Sigma said, “There are two people who live there. I’m sure they’ll be able to convince you to go. Two people who I’m certain you’d want to see again.” Two portraits appeared, superimposed across the map. Both showed faces that Carlos recognised very well.

“Tenmyouji… and Quark?”

“You’d know Tenmyouji better by his first name. He’s aged a lot since then, but Junpei is still basically the same person you knew in D-Com,” Sigma explained, “Quark’s actually a relative of yours: a great-nephew.”

Eagerness rose in Carlos’ chest, followed by panic. “They’ve just left! How am I…”

“You’ve got time,” Sigma interrupted, “They’re still getting on the shuttle that will take them home. If you hurry, you’ll make it. And don’t worry: the shuttle has three seats. I checked it myself.”

Carlos ran. He ran all the way to the pressure exchange chamber that led to the shuttle bay. His pace was nowhere close to what he wanted it to be – the weak gravity kept interfering with his stride, and his new body was a lot weaker than the one he was used to – but his intense determination carried him along. Eventually, he arrived in the PEC.

He needed to put on a protective suit to go further. Fortunately, Carlos had years of experience in using even the most bulky and complicated of firemen’s turnout gear: the space-suit was not that much harder to use. Carlos had it on and completely sealed within moments. With that, he could pass through the airlock and into the shuttle bay.

As Carlos entered, he could see the shuttle towering above him. Its door, close to the ground, was open with steps leading down. And of the two other suited figures in the shuttle bay, one was already climbing those stairs and almost inside the passenger compartment.

“Junpei! Quark! Wait!” Carlos cried out.

Both figures turned towards Carlos. His desperate plea must have carried to them across the radio. Carlos bounded forward, stopping only when he was close enough to see inside their helmets. It was Quark who had been climbing the stairs; the taller figure, just behind his grandson, was Tenmyouji.

As Carlos saw their faces, both Tenmyouji and Quark saw his. “Look, Kyle,” Tenmyouji said bitterly, “I already told you. We’re not staying here. There’s nothing for us, and there’s no way I’m sucking up to the bastard who forced us through that.”

“Wait, Grandpa,” Quark interrupted, using the extra height the steps gave him to place his hand on Tenmyouji’s shoulder, “I… I don’t think that’s Kyle. There’s something different. Like, in his eyes.”

Tenmyouji leaned forward, his helmet shifting on his suit so that the visor continued looking forward. Carlos stepped forward to meet him, and soon their helmets were an inch apart. They could see each other clearly as though there was nothing in between. In that moment, their eyes met.

“Carlos?!” Tenmyouji exclaimed, “How is that possible? How the hell are you even here?”

“It’s a long story, Junpei,” Carlos said. He gazed upwards at the magnificent spacecraft that towered above them, reaching onwards towards Earth. “Junpei, Quark. I think it’s time for us to go home.”