Hours passed, the sky cleared, and Sasha changed into a sweater that did not have a big black scorch mark decorating the center. He spent his morning fine-tuning the Brain Tumbler that he had just received from a totally legitimate Ukrainian business, skipping breakfast and not emerging from the G.P.C. until half-past noon, when he had to go to the Main Lodge to teach his one class of the day.

It was Telepathy Tuesday. Calling it that had not been Sasha's idea; he thought the moniker rather foolish because no other day of the week was referred to in that manner. Morry had thought himself very clever when he had come up with that little bit of alliteration, and the name had stuck, despite Sasha's opposition.

Telepathy Tuesday was an unbearably boring hour for both the teacher and the students. The students, with the exception of a select few, showed very little aptitude for the skill beyond the most basic mind-reading and in general found the passive ability less entertaining in comparison to a more active skill like levitation. Sasha, for his part, had better things to do then watch twenty unenthusiastic children trying and failing to read each other's thoughts. It certainly didn't help that the class was far too large to optimally teach the skill- telepathy was better taught in very small classes, as there was too much opportunity for distraction when the group was larger than four or five people.

This Telepathy Tuesday was somehow even less productive than the ones that had preceded it. Today's lesson was introductory memory reading. Sasha had paired the campers up and gave them a very simple assignment: one child would recall a memory from last summer and their partner would try to read it. Only Phoebe Love appeared to be engaged with the task, recalling Elton Fir's harrowing fall into Lake Oblongata the previous year with passable accuracy. The rest of them had either given up or had been too wrapped up in their own personal interests to begin. Elka Doom was very conspicuously absent from class so Sasha had placed Clem, Crystal and Chloe together in a group of three. One wouldn't have known that by looking at them- Crystal and Clem were facing each other, ineffectually attempting to read each other's minds (or perhaps trying to give each other strokes if their equally strained expressions were any indication) while Chloe sat off to the side, fiddling with a small, paper-mache plane Sasha had seen her make yesterday night. He allowed it; the way she tweaked certain parts of the model reminded him of how he'd been working on the Brain Tumbler earlier this morning.

A look around the Main Lodge revealed similar displays of disinterest with the lesson. Kitty and Franke were sitting next to each other, whispering behind their hands (was it too much to ask that they at least use telepathy if they were going to goof off in telepathy class?), the partners he had actually assigned them (Benny and Vernon respectively) left alone and looking forlorn. Quentin Hedgemouse and Lili Zanotto seemed content to sit and do nothing, the former with a rather far-away look in his eyes that implied that he was concentrating all of his mental energy on something else. Was he still thinking over what he had been told this morning? Sasha frowned, disappointed that Quentin had not yet taken any sort of action. He took the room in as a whole, counted each of the children, and realized that Bobby Zilch had slipped out.

He was not inclined to go looking for the boy, and honestly, wasn't too keen on wasting any more of his own time in this manner. He called a halt to the assignment and declared that the remainder of the period would be devoted to independent study.

Elton Fir raised his hand tentatively. "Um, what's independent study?"

Independent Study essentially meant 'do whatever you want, just don't bother me.' Sasha could not in explain it in those terms, however, so he said "It means that you take a subject of your choosing and study it at your own discretion."

Elton furrowed his brows. "But what are we supposed to study?"

"Anything you want," Sasha replied.

Elton's eyes slid over to Lili, who was making her way towards the door. "Are we, um," he cleared his throat and raised his voice, "Are we allowed to study plants?"

"If you do it independently, yes."

"When do we stop?" Phoebe asked, coming up to him.

"When it's dinner time," Sasha answered, impatient to leave the lodge and get back to his work.

"What about levitation class?" Phoebe continued. "We have that today too."

"Why would we have levitation if Agent Vodello is not here to teach it?"

"Well, I thought that you'd substitute." Phoebe abruptly slapped her forehead, her cheeks turning red. "Oh, right, sorry!" she said sheepishly, "I forgot that you couldn't float up."

Sasha blinked, the corners of his mouth turning downward. "I can most certainly float up," he said defensively, wondering where the hell Phoebe had heard that he couldn't. "My levitation is perfectly competent."

"That ain't what the Coach said." Benny Fidelo had come up from seemingly out of nowhere, his large ears likely picking up on an opportunity to cause trouble. "He said you couldn't get it up because your head was too full of useless facts and cigarette smoke."

"That is completely untrue, and I strongly suggest that you not phrase it in that manner again, Cadet Fidelo," Sasha said sharply, mentally swearing revenge on the Coach for this insult.

"Is it untrue?" Kitty Bubai asked sweetly as she walked up, Franke Athens close on her heels.

Sasha sent the girl a withering glare. "You know that it is. All of you have witnessed me using levitation to ascend the Coach's tree house." All four campers opened their mouths to speak, but Sasha quickly cut them off. "I do not want to hear another word about this. I am going to close my eyes and anyone still here when I open them will fail this session and have to do a one-on-one make-up class with me in my lab."Four sets of feet fled from his table before his eye lids even met. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will the headache that he felt forming away. When he replaced his glasses and opened them he was incredibly dismayed to discover Vernon Tripe standing in front of his table, a stack of papers clutched to his chest. "Why are you still here? Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Oh, I heard you," Vernon replied in that slow, inflectionless, and somewhat congested manner of speaking he had. "I was actually hoping to get your opinion on a project that I've been working on."

Those awful words sent a chill down Sasha's spine. "Ah, well," he said, looking around the lodge to see if there were any other campers around to witness him backpedaling on his threat. "The make-up class is for telepathy only, so unless your…project is centered around that subject, I'm afraid that I cannot be of any assistance."

"It's got a lot to do with telepathy, Agent Nein," Vernon said, offering Sasha the papers he was holding. "It's a play that I'm writing," he explained as Sasha took the crumpled stack. "For Milla's puppet show."

Sasha took one look at the page on top, saw that it was filled from top to bottom with print so tiny that it was nearly illegible, and promptly handed the papers back. "I cannot read all of that," Sasha said brusquely, "now, I believe that you have some independent study to be…studying."

"I'll read it to you," Vernon offered, moving to sit next to Sasha. "I'm an excellent reader. It's in my blood."

"That won't be necessary," Sasha said, rising from his seat and hurriedly making his way to the doors.

But Vernon, who had both a story to tell and an unfortunate victim to tell it to, was not going to be so easily discouraged. He darted out in front of Sasha, moving much faster than one would have thought him capable of on his short legs and reached the doors before Sasha did, effectively blocking his exit. "Now, I know that this is just a rough draft," Vernon said as he cleared his throat, "but I think it's pretty good. You're gonna love it."

He began to read then, infusing the script with same amount of enthusiasm that an insurance agent would have when speaking to a client about their policy. Sasha opened his mouth and tried to issue a command for Vernon to move, but could not get a word in through the deluge of inanity pouring forth from Vernon's mouth. Frantically, Sasha searched the lodge, looking for a way to remove Vernon from his presence that did not involve him using his powers on a child twice in one day. He couldn't think of any, couldn't focus, for Vernon's voice kept intruding on his thoughts, like an insipid and unwelcome guest that kept trying to summarize Swann's Way to him.

Sasha did not know how much time passed in this manner, only that his senses seemed to grow duller and duller with every word that Vernon spoke. He had no idea what was happening in the 'play', nor could he differentiate between the characters, as Vernon used the exact same monotone when reading all of them. At some point, Sasha began to lose his grasp of the English language, gradually comprehending less and less of what Vernon was saying. There were characters in this play and they were going to the right, and then five paces to the left, and then down a flight of steps- or had it been up? Where even were these people? Where, for that matter, was Sasha? Was he still in the Main Lodge at Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, or had his mind transcended physical reality and moved on to a realm of unfathomable tedium?

And then suddenly, blessedly, Vernon stopped speaking, and the cessation of that bland, mind-numbing voice brought Sasha back to reality. "Oh man," Vernon said, looking up at Sasha owlishly. "This scene reminds me of the time that I got lost in Ollie's Bargain Outlet."

Now that all of Sasha's mental facilities had returned to him a method of escape from this drivel came to him immediately. In the split-second that Vernon took to draw in a breath Sasha went invisible. He bypassed Vernon easily and was out the door before the boy could even blink. He jumped over the porch rail and levitated himself down to the ground. "Agent Nein?" Sasha heard Vernon ask as his feet touched the grass. "Where'd ya go?"

Sasha, still invisible, looked up and saw that Vernon had walked out of the lodge, his head swiveling around as he searched for his escaped victim, calling after him in his deep, off-putting voice. Could Vernon sense where he was, even in his incorporeal state? Sasha would have first assumed no, but the boy's eyes seemed to fall on him too many times for it to be just a coincidence. He decided that he would not risk it. Do not move, Sasha thought, using telepathy to communicate with Vernon without speaking so as to not give away his position. Do not think. Definitely do not speak. Vernon held his papers close, his body still, only his eyes moving from to the left and right. I have been hit by an Intercontinental Atomic-Scrambling Beam. Do not speak! he ordered as Vernon opened his mouth to make a proclamation of shock. Just nod if you can understand me. This is a very delicate situation. Vernon nodded, his eyes wide, reminding Sasha of a very stupid frog he had met in the Amazon a few years back. It is imperative that you proceed to Coach Oleander and recount the last five- no, ten hours as you recall it in as explicit and excruciating detail as you can manage. My physical form depends upon you doing this.

"Should I read the Coach my play?" Vernon asked out loud.

Yes, and tell him about what happened to you at Ollie's.

"Oh man, Agent Nein, that one's a whopper. I wish you were alive to hear it."

I'm not dead yet, Sasha corrected, wanting nothing more than for this strange, toady little child to hop away. But I will be soon if you don't report everything to the Coach. Go! Go right now and go quickly! Vernon sprinted off, moving faster than Bobby Zilch on a levitation ball, a story no doubt already on the tip of his tongue. Sasha did not take his eyes off of Vernon's back until the boy was out of his range of vision, breathing out a sigh of relief once he was gone. He reached into his jacket with telekinesis and pulled out a cigarette from the pack he kept there. I refuse to believe, he thought as he levitated the cigarette to his mouth, that the agency could be so hard for pre-cognitive psychics that they must resort to the likes of Vernon Tripe.

He was about to light up, but a noise that resembled a minor explosive impact caught his attention before he could focus his pyrokinesis. It was coming from the other side of the Main Lodge, just around the corner from where Sasha currently stood. He remembered that the Coach had set up a shooting range at the base of the lodge, using big bales of hay as the targets. It appeared that at least one camper was taking Sasha's independent study assignment seriously. Sasha made his way over, curious as to who that person was, his unlit cigarette hovering at his side as he walked.

The shooter was revealed to be one J.T. Hoofburger, firing away at the hay bales at a measured pace, each blast hitting the target sheet fixed onto the bale. Sasha did not immediately approach, instead taking a second to observe and critique J.T.'s technique. His aim is superb, Sasha noted after half a minute, and his standing technique is perfect; he is careful not to let the force of the blast snap his neck back. However, his blasts are getting progressively weaker, and he appears to be tiring out. I give him five more shots before he's out of ammo.

Sasha's prediction was correct, and after the fifth shot J.T. took off his hat and wiped his brow, looking very pleased with himself. This seemed like the proper time to approach, so Sasha did, walking up and stopping when he was about three steps away from J.T. "Your psi-blasting is decent," Sasha began, "you chose your independent study subject well."

J.T., apparently not having heard Sasha come up, jumped approximately forty-five centimeters in the air, a startled yelp escaping his lips. He looked behind himself and then blinked in confusion. "What in tarnation?" he asked, looking around uneasily, his eyes passing over Sasha as though he could not see him. That was because J.T. couldn't see him, as Sasha was still invisible. He re-appeared and J.T. once again jumped and yelped, though not quite as high or as loudly as he had the first time. "A-agent Nein," he stammered, hand clutched to his heart. "You scared me so bad I nearly bit the ground!"

Sasha was not sure what 'bit the ground' meant and was not interested enough to inquire about it. "Are you out here on your own?" Sasha asked, keeping a look out for Elka Doom, who must have informed J.T. of his crimes against her by now. J.T. looked away and did not answer, the question making him uncomfortable. Why, Sasha didn't know, as he could not recall ever giving this particular camper any reason to fear him. "Elka is not with you?" he asked before the silence could stretch into awkwardness. "I heard that the two of you were dating."

J.T.'s head snapped up, his expression stricken. "Uh, no, she ain't…she ain't here," he mumbled nervously, glancing around as though he expected her to emerge from the woodwork at any second. "Just me here, all by my lonesome."

"Hm. Very good. I'd like to speak to without being interrupted." Sasha lit the cigarette levitating at his side and glided it over to his mouth. He took a long, slow drag and blew out a stream of gray smoke. "You are quite adept at targeting," he continued as J.T. watched the smoke dissipate, "Do you practice this ability outside of camp?"

"Aw, shucks," J.T. said, rubbing the back of his neck, the praise relaxing him just a smidge. "Yeah, I practice a lot at home. Got the whole line-of-tin-cans-on-a-fence-setup and everything." A wistful smile came to his face. "Me n' Pa'll go out sometimes and just shoot; course he uses a rifle. Sometimes we're out there 'til the sun hits the horizon."

"Yes, yes, that's very nice," Sasha interrupted, not wanting to hear two boring stories in one day. "I take it that this means that you have an interest in improving your skills."

J.T. shrugged. "'reckon I do," he answered, his discomfort returning.

Sasha frowned, disappointed in J.T.'s lack of enthusiasm. "We do not, as a rule, train anybody in marksmanship until they have obtained their shielding and levitation badges," he said, taking another drag as he reached into his jacket pocket. "That is the agency's policy, not mine." He pulled out the 'button' (actually a circular key) that opened the hatch to his lab and floated it over to J.T. "However, I believe that you would be a good candidate for my advanced training."

J.T. let the button hover in front of him for a second before gingerly taking it. "Well I…sure do appreciate the offer, Agent Nein," he said, giving Sasha a polite smile. "But, uh, I dunno. I don't think I'm ready yet."

"Why do you say that?" Sasha demanded to know.

J.T. swallowed, taking a small step back. "Well, uh, I only just got my telekinesis badge. Don't wanna get too big for my britches," he trailed off with a weak laugh. "You know what I'm sayin'?"

Sasha really would have had less trouble taking this kid seriously if he didn't insist on talking like a cartoon character. "How can you know that? You don't even know what my advanced training entails."

"W-well, I…" J.T. shot a glance back at the hay bales as if they would have an answer for him. "Suppose you got a point," he conceded. "But I'm the kind of felller who likes to do things in the proper order. And it ain't like I'm in a rush."

Sasha shrugged. "Suit yourself." He took what remained of his cigarette and burned it up, letting the ashes blow away in the breeze. J.T. watched with a strangely anxious expression. "Be aware that you cannot improve doing the same things over and over again. Your aiming and technique are good but I have noticed quite a few flaws that can be corrected with proper education."

"Flaws?" he asked, slipping his hand under his hat to scratch at his head. "Like what? You sayin' I'm going about this shootin' thing all wrong?" He didn't sound at all offended, merely inquisitive.

"Now, you cannot expect me to tell you that here." Sasha gestured to the button in J.T.'s hand. "If you truly wish to learn, come by my lab before lunch tomorrow. You'll receive a marksmanship learner's permit and I will personally teach you how to improve on all of your problem areas."J.T. held the button in his palm, brows furrowed as he thought the offer over. His expression was a mix of tempted and apprehensive, and it did not appear that he would come to a decision anytime soon. "This is the time that you need to start thinking about your future as a Psychonaut," Sasha said, "and where you would like your place in the agency to be."

J.T. nodded absently, putting the button in his back pocket. "Yeah, I reckon that's true. But does it have to be in your lab?" He looked down, mumbling at his shoes. "Think it'd be just as good practicing out here on the range."

What was with these campers and their aversion to his lab? Sasha had been coming here for years and in all that time only one camper had been injured on his watch, and through their own error, not his. "My lab is the safest place, as there won't be any way that one of your peers could wander in and cause an accident." Sasha thought a moment, and then added, "At the very least, it will get you away from Elka for a little while."

J.T. visibly brightened upon hearing that, though he still appeared rather hesitant. "Yeah, you know…I'll think about it, Agent Nein," he said, sounding as though he was only saying it to get Sasha to leave rather than out of any real intention of seriously considering anything. This irritated Sasha, and he stared at J.T. with a stony expression until the boy flinched. "I'll come by, alright? I'll be there tomorrow," he said hastily, hands thrown up defensively. "Psychic Scout's honor!"

"Hm, yes. I expect to see you there at eleven o'clock sharp."

"Isn't that during Basic Braining?"

"Skip it. I will cover for you." With that as a farewell, Sasha turned on his heel and walked away, confident that J.T. Hoofburger's good manners would prevent him from flaking on an established meeting. His reluctance is merely the result of him taking those ridiculous rumors about what goes on in my lab too seriously. I'm certain that once he gets through the first session he will be eager to attend the next. A lesson plan was already forming in his mind as he made his way back to his lab. Between this and his work on the brain tumbler, he figured that he would well-occupied until Milla returned the next day.