OCTOBER 2113

"Are you certain, Will? This is my father's ring?"

William gazed at the carved gold band currently held between his fingers with a piercing and critical eye. It'd been roughly a year since he opened his store, Priceless Antiques, where he provided a range of services, from sales to appraisals, reproductions and acquisitions. It was an fascinating line of work, all the more so in a world where so many items could simply be fabricated on demand; in the end, however, authenticity and originality still counted, now more than ever.

Going into business for himself was a decision prompted by his desire for prioritizing the time he could spend with his family. Between the consulting work he did for various museums across the world, along with his own personal and family fortunes, he didn't need to keep long or arduous hours, often working by appointment alone. And of course, it helped that the Icelandic government considered his work to be "of critical cultural and artistic contribution to the nation", which meant he was able to operate within the still-prestigious 101 district with the added benefit of a significantly subsidized rent.

Despite his attempts to maintain a low profile as a gifted but otherwise unremarkable antiquarian, he'd managed to acquire a uncanny local reputation for being able to discern the most remarkable of details from items that people brought for him. William unfortunately discovered that it only took an occasional slip of the tongue, when overwhelmed with emotional details after reading an object, to get people talking amongst themselves. Even in the 22nd Century, a slim majority of native Icelanders still believed in the existence of the Huldufólk- the so-called Icelandic elves - and the rumors were that they would sometimes whisper things into WIlliam's ear.

Naturally, he tried to deny it at first, but soon discovered the futility of doing so. Eventually, he learned to adopt the Icelandic mindset of nebulosity towards the matter - perhaps yes, perhaps no, but definitely maybe - and carried on with his life. At any rate, it rarely came up as a matter in the day to day course of things…

...except for moments like these. With certain people, older ones usually; those like Herdis Ríkharðsdottir, desperate to find a hidden truth of the kind she was convinced that only William could discover.

Looking up from the ring, he fixed a kindly smile upon her, one that seemed far too old for his youthful face. Herdis was coming off from a surprisingly nasty legal dispute with her sister, where several items that had been promised to her in her father's will had - at least until recently - been intentionally kept from her. A short but ugly court battle ensued, and though she'd managed to triumph in the end, Herdis still held tightly onto her suspicions that her sister swapped out some of the most precious items with fakes.

William shrugs affably and explained, "Based on what you've told me, what's in the records you've provided, and what I can see on close inspection, I'd say this is the right ring. There's no watermarking at all, so it's not something that was produced in a fabricator. But five minutes with any home scanner would have told you that." He tilted his head meaningfully at that statement; he knew what was coming, what she would ask, but he played along all the same.

The older woman shook her jowly face, a few strands of silver hair falling out of place from the tight bun she kept it in. "Amelia could always be so...so cruel!" She sighed dramatically, and continued, "I can't understand why she hates me the way she does. But...I mean." She bit down on her bottom lip, as she insisted, "Aren't there ways someone can change a fabricator. Hack it, I mean. You know? So that it would make things, make them so perfect that no one could tell the difference?" She rubbed nervously at her hands as she asked.

William drew in a slow breath. He wished she hadn't asked, because it was exactly the sort of question he found difficult to answer without being totally honest, and it was clear she needed comfort and closure, not more doubt.

"There have always been rumors of that kinda thing. Illegal units, firmware rebuilt from the ground up. The last actual counterfeiting ring of that kind that got busted up over fifteen years back. And understand, when I say illegal, I mean there are countries that have otherwise banned the death penalty, but they'll still execute you for possession of that kind of tech. Or at least lock you up in a hole and never let you out again."

The elite of the world had made surprisingly generous concessions to the general populace over the last century - after all it was either that or pitchforks - but there was still enough of a demand for at least some artificial scarcity in the system that extreme measure were undertaken as a result.

"At any rate, even if she was willing to put her life at risk dealing with that level of crime, even if she could find someone to do it, the costs would probably be absolutely astronomical. No offense, Herdis, but does your sister hate you that much?"

The other woman blushed; she obviously believed so, but couldn't make herself say the words. She sighed dramatically and said, "I just...I really hoped to know, beyond all doubt. You understand, surely?"

Ah, fuckity-damn!

William knew he should offer a supportive shoulder for her to cry on, maybe a cup of tea. Tell her that of course, there'd be no charge, and really, he'd stake his professional reputation on the authenticity of the ring. Hell, after what happened last week, he should never use his powers ever again!

But there was a woman in his small shop, a local, a neighbor. Someone who had been kind to his wife and children, watching after them on occasion so that he and Magda could have date nights whenever her parents were otherwise unavailable. In that sense, Herdis was like family.

How could he say no, when it was in his power to reassure her once and for all? And when, in her own way, she knew that as well.

It was an easy thing for him now, after all these years. Natural as breathing. He simply focused for a few seconds, flexed some mental muscles, and reached out with his mind. Deftly, he skimmed through the accumulated memories impressed upon the ring in his hand. Unlike those early days, when he had little control over what he saw, it was now much more akin to browsing through electronic search results. It took less than a minute for him to find what he needed.

He reached out, placed to ring back into Herdis' hand, and spoke quietly. "The last time you saw your father wearing his ring was the last time you ever saw him alive. He hoped you and your sister would finally make peace, but laughed about it. Good-naturedly, you know, like he thought you wouldn't, but he still had to say something. He called you his litli snjókorn, right before you left his side. I promise you, that's the very same ring in your hand." He glanced away, idly fiddled with a few of the loose items crowding his counter, and offhandedly added, "Your sister - ah - I think she regretted it? Like she knew she'd crossed a line. It's why getting the ring back from her was easier than anything else. Anyhow….hope that helps."

She caught him off-guard, hugged him fiercely and kissed his brow. Her eyes were wet, and she clapped the side of his arm. "You're a good boy, William Price. A good…" she gave the arm a tight squeeze, "...a good man. Thank you, thank you so much. I knew you could tell me the truth! Once and for all. You and...you and your friends." She gave him a spry, mischievous look, "The hidden ones."

William held out his palms in a cultured gesture of confusion and said, "Ah, Herdis. I just...I know things. Sometimes. I make good guesses now and then, yeah?"

Herdis laughed, placing the ring back in a wooden box, playing along. "Oh yes. Very good ones." She looked back to him and said, "I'll see you in a few days, ja?" She reached up, wiping her eyes at last. "Uh - I'll make a nice möndlukaka, for Magda and the kids."

"Hey, that'd be really nice! Chloe especially loves your cakes, I'm sure she and Max'll fight over the last piece." he chuckled. "Thank you."

"Right, well. Sjáumst síðar." she said, clearing her throat loudly, before smiling and waving. She moved towards the front door, navigating around the piles of items and curios that took up most of the floor space.

"Bless bless!" he called out brightly, waiting until the door closed to let out a hard, heavy sigh. He cupped his forehead and muttered, "Please Goddess, let that be the last one, for a good long while. Toto need the break."

It was only a minute or two away from closing time, and he was happy for the day to be coming to an end, as he started to putter about and make himself ready to head home. He frowned as he brooded over how he'd been taking too many chances as of late. Too many risks. Pulling 'The Trick' for a family friend was one thing, but lately…

Still got chills after what happened last week. Can't shake the feeling somethings' gonna happen…

An ancient bell chimed merrily in response to the door opening and closing. William turned, looking over to the equally ancient woman who strode into the shop. Her hair was bone white, and tied up in tight, severe looking plait. Her face held more creases than he thought possible with human skin, and while she was bundled up in a grey felt greatcoat, he could easily imagine how frail and bony the frame underneath must be. The woman walked with slow purpose, leaning lightly against a black lacquered cane that he swore he'd seen before - one topped with a crystal skull, just like the kind his great-grandfather once owned.

It was the eyes, however, that belied the form. They spoke of an indomitable spirit, of a woman for whom advanced age was nothing more than a quarrelsome inconvenience. They warned that whatever mind lay locked within those bones brightly blazed with a fierceness as fresh and unending as youth. Though she required the cane, her back was held straight, refusing to fully bend under the weight of her years. Clearly, she was in exceptional health.

William called out, "I'm sorry, ma'am? We're closing now. But I'd be more than happy to make an appointment. Or you could come back when we're open again on Friday."

It wasn't that he was trying to be rude, but there was something about her that set him ill at ease. The sooner he could get back home, with a nice warm supper in my stomach and playing with the kids, the better.

The woman coughed hard to clear her throat, causing her enter body to shake, before finally speaking. Her voice was rich, despite the rough edges time had given it; a well-heeled, cut-glass London accent, one that sounded downright archaic to his modern ears.

"I've come a terribly long way to see you tonight, Mr. Price. For an old dowager such as myself I'm sure…" she paused, taking in a long, pointed breath, and then said, staring him straight in the eyes, "...that you could make the time."

Williams blood flash-froze. He immediately caught the meaning in her intonation. Where normally he might try to convince himself that he was merely imagining things, he couldn't deny what every instinct was screaming at him right this moment: this woman, so impossibly old, knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. Who he was, what he could do.

Oh Goddess above. Is this it? Is this where it all ends? Someone found me out? Someone from the government? Or worse?!

He did his best to will his heart from beating out his chest, off-handedly polishing the brass plating in the antique cash register on his display counter, before trying to disinterestedly answer, "Of course, I can give you a few minutes. Gladly."

She reached into her coat, pulled out a thin piece of metal, and pressed down on it. There was a click from the front door, as the lock automatically engaged. The indicators at William's counter showed that the security system was now active as well. Putting the device away, and then holding out a hand, she spoke in a reassuring tone, "Truly, I mean you no harm. But it is vitally important that no one else walk in while we have our discussion. That would be...bloody inconvenient." She cracked a soft smile, and moved as briskly as her legs would allow. "My goodness, look at you. I can see so much of her. Both of them. Your great-grandparents, that is. You've - ah - got her eyes, yes?" The cane in her hand rose up, the crystal skullpiece tapping the side of her face. "Your late, great-grandfather, the esteemed Senator from Oregon."

He nodded once, "Um. Thanks."

She chuckled, deep in the back of her throat. "This was hers, you know? I'm sure you recognize it. No doubt, you recall a few years back, when your grandmother allowed some of her father's personal effects to be auctioned off to raise money for aid relief in the Carolina Deadlands?"

Williams eyes widened, and he nodded again, this time more emphatically. He did indeed remember Rachel asking him to do some appraisals of a few things; he was rather proud of her, giving up items that held significant sentimental value for them both, knowing that they'd fetch a good price for an equally good cause.

"Of course I do, uh...miss?"

She blinked, looking quite embarrassed, and frowned. "Of course! Age is no excuse for forgetting my manners." She planted the cane back onto the floor, folded her hands over the top, and introduced herself. "My name is Camilla Davies. I knew your great-grandfather. Not personally mind you, but we interacted several times professionally over the years during my time as Director of the FBI." She shook her head, laughing with bemusement, "I remember the day, when your great-grandfather was still a Congresswoman, and called me up in something of a panic. Back when your grandparents started dating. Wanted me to run a background check on her daughter's young beau. Hardly the first Congressperson I had to have this conversation with. I told her that as a US Representative, the FBI naturally kept a watchful eye on her, her family, and anyone that they were closely involved with. I dare say, I was aware of young Rachel's budding romance long before her father learned of it.

William blanched at the revelation. In the back of his mind, a voice loudly protested at what was a clear impossibility.

What! Hella-no! That was over sixty years ago. There's no way…

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but that is toto-cray. You can't be that old, you'd have to be like...well…"

"I turned one-hundred thirty-eight years last month." she smiled, as if perversely satisfied. "Quite advanced, even in this day and age. I assure you, I'm currently the oldest woman on the face of the planet, a fact I've worked tirelessly to keep off the public radar at large." She shook her head and snorted, "You have no idea how persistent the people from that bloody Guinness book can be." She canted her head to the side, preemptively answering William's followup question, "It's all been a matter of clean living, combined with unparalleled force of will." She laughed lightly, tapping her forehead. "And, would you believe, that I've played a foundational role in developing essentially every bit of the anagathic treatments that you lot now enjoy?" She sighed heavily, snorting peevishly, "Not that you would know it to look at me. Turns out the key is starting early. Telomeres are fussy, terrible, wicked little things. They very much resent being told what to do after a while. Around the forties or fifties seems to be the cutoff, if you don't start getting the injections by then. Wasn't as useful for 'oldbies' from the Twentieth century, but...I've discovered ways to force the issue."

With that, she was seized with a prolonged, painful looking coughing fit. William started to walk over to support her, but she held out a hand to stop him, before reaching into her coat and pulling out a bulky looking inhaler. Taking two strong puffs, she was able to breath again, but he couldn't help but notice a trembling in her hands that wasn't there previously.

"Wow. Are you…?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine." she said, waving him off. "A couple more weeks, that's all. I only have to hold out for a bloody fortnight, and then I'll finally have a permanent cure for my...condition." Her eyes shined bright at this. William found himself too frightened to press for further details.

"Anyhow, the reason I'm here, William - can I call you that?"

He nodded twice, jaw having fallen open.

"Fabulous. I'm here to tell you a story. A rather long one, and for that I apologize. It's about me, mostly. But by the end, you should see how you fit into it. You, and especially your great-grandmother."

"Oh no." William breathed out, despite himself.

"Oh yes." Camilla responded. "Indeed, I would dare say that I've waited my entire life to meet you...or rather, someone like you. Now, if an old woman could trouble you for a cup of proper tea - nothing from a food replicator, please - perhaps we can sit somewhere? I'll tell you everything, and after that, I'll gladly answer every conceivable question you could ask."

William closed his eyes. Memories bubbled up in his mind, of feeling a similar sense of helplessness near the end of his encounter with his great-grandmother's journal. He couldn't help but think that he was simply bobbing along some dark, storm-churned ocean, tossed about by the tides of fortune, by forces he had absolutely no control whatsoever over. Whomever this Camilla Davies was, he couldn't help but feel she represented whatever agency of the universe stood in judgement over him. That she was here to deliver all of the karma he'd reaped over the years, ever since his abilities emerged.

Please let me be get through this. Please please…

...and if not, then let this pass over Maggie and the kids!

"William?" Camila inquired, as he realized he'd not answered for the better part of ten seconds.

He forced his hands to let go from the side of the counter, smoothed a pleasant smile onto his face, and asked, "Would jasmine do?"

Camilla smiled, "Oh yes. That would be lovely."

The two of them settled in at a tiny table in the back room of the shop. Over cups of tea and cookies, Camilla began her story.

"I grew up in a poor, working class part of London. Brixton Hill, to be exact. A miserable child in a miserable home with an uninterested far and a miserably abusive mother. From an early age, I never did well in school." She tapped at her head. "Never received an official diagnosis, but it's obvious to me now that I suffered from any number of learning disabilities. Dyslexia coupled with dysgraphia, by and large. My mother never tried to understand what was wrong with me, just kept yelling, calling me a stupid child. And as children are often wont to do, I absorbed the abuse, vainly trying to be what I thought my mother wanted and never succeeding. But that all changed, almost in an instant, when I was fourteen."

Camilla gently dunked her biscuit in her tea with practiced grace, nibbling on it slowly as she continued, "I'd been getting these dreadful headaches for weeks. I tried to tell my mother about it, but she always accused me of skiving. So after being yelled at by her, yet again, for failing a quiz, I ran up to my room, terribly despondent; not to be dramatic about it - it's hard to recall, even for me, because it was such a long time ago - but I'm pretty certain I was pushed to the point where I was considering suicide. But I do remember looking up at my ceiling, suddenly so furious with the universe. How dare it do this to me! How dare it curse me like this, make me stupid, force me to live with this broken, despotic woman who clearly resented my very existence!" She took a breath, and then a long pull from her tea. William could see that even now, over a century later, those childhood traumas haunted her.

"I grew angrier over the span of minutes; I felt like a wild animal, caged and desperate to escape. I started to throw things, but the pain in my head soon overwhelmed me. I fell to the floor. I may or may not have screamed; logically, you'd think my mother would have come to check on me, if just to tell me to knock it off, but she never did. Perhaps she didn't care. At any rate, I passed out, but before I did, I suddenly...understood…"

William couldn't help but notice the pause. "Yeah? Understand...what?"

Camilla smiled wryly, "Everything. Absolutely everything. Just for a moment, but that was all I needed. When I came to a few minutes later, the headaches were gone, I was so relieved. I didn't know what to make of it, or what to do from there. But there was a book, one of my science texts, laid out and open right in front of me. I remember casually glancing it over, and being able to understand and perfectly recall each and every word I'd seen. Curious, I read more. In ten minutes, I'd not only read through the entire thing, I'd absolutely retained all of the knowledge inside. I spent the rest of the night in my room, and by morning, I'd absorbed every word in every book on my shelves. Stranger yet, I didn't feel sleepy. As time went on, I found I could spend whole days awake and alert; all I'd need was a couple hours nap here and there to refresh me. Everything in my mind was improved! Enhanced. Better than the best!" She gently smacked her palm down on the table. "Cognition, inspiration, intelligence, intuition. Everything." She paused, and said, "I realize this must all sound unbelievably fantastic. You're literally the first person I've ever told the whole story to."

William cracked a playful grin and murmured, "Dunno. I've seen a lot of toto-weird things in my time. Life is strange, when you least expect it to be." Of course, the story the older woman was spinning for him strained belief; but so did psychometry. So did changing the course of history. Hell, half of Reykjavik called him the man the Little People whispered secrets to. So of course he believed, because it struck him: he wasn't alone.

He never realized how terribly isolated, alienated his powers made him feel. Not until this moment. The long, sleepless nights he wondered, wrestling with mysteries. Why him? Why his great-grandmother? Why no one else, at least no one he could find? Not that he'd spent a lot of time looking, but he couldn't be the only person on the face of the planet capable of superhuman feats? Could he?

For too long a while, he bemoaned that the answer was, quite possibly, yes.

But now?

He wasn't alone anymore.

He quickly interjected, his playful facade immediately giving way to his sense of relief. "I mean that, by the way. And I believe you."

Camilla snagged another couple of biscuits from the tray, cramming one of them immediately into her mouth. Chewing and swallowing as fast as she could, she muttered, "Sorry. Damn medication, makes a frightful mess of my metabolism." She then sighed, adding, "Thank you. I mean, I knew you would." she smirked. "But thank you."

Clearing her throat she said, "As you can imagine, my school life changed dramatically. And brought no small amount of suspicion down on my head. I didn't realize at first how it would look, the 'dumbest girl in school' suddenly acing her exams, answering every question in class correctly, or even correcting the teachers when they made mistakes. There were accusations of cheating. Easily disproved, but my God, did they try, again and again, to catch me. Any number of repeat examinations with the teacher in the room, watching me like a hawk. And that, William, is where I learned the first and most important lesson of my new life: the need for secrecy. If you stick out, if you challenge the status quo, if your abilities mark you as special beyond special, society will tear you down. It seems to be practically hardwired into our genes: the tall poppies are the first to be cut down. Icarus, in his exultant glory, flies too close to the sun and crashes to his death in the sea. So I dialed it back. I learned how to be simply "smart enough". To limit my improvement, and slow its apparent rate of progress. It was almost as if it were easier for reality itself to accept the narrative of 'struggling girl overcomes her academic problems over a long period of time, with hard work and effort' than 'idiot child becomes world's smartest woman overnight'. It worked though; by the time I entered Cambridge, no one had trouble ignoring my first fourteen years of abject academic failure.

William poured her a fresh cup of tea, handed it over, and asked, "Wow. That must have made your Mom happy, right? At long last?"

Camilla got a distant, faraway look in her eyes. She glanced away from him, placed a fist to her lips as she coughed, and in a low voice said, "My mother and I never reconciled. It ended very badly between us. She - uh - was in poor health, and died right before I went off to university."

He blanched at this. "Oh. Goddess. Sorry about that." An uncomfortable silence grew between them, and he sought to break it by changing the topic. "But you had to wonder though, right? I mean, with your abilities. Why you? And...and was it just you? Because if you could somehow transform like that, why not other people?"

Camilla happily took the offered opening. "Mmmm. On the nose. Oh, thank you." She belatedly took the cup back and continued, "Of course I wondered. But I wasn't sure how to go about finding out. This was the early nineties; the Internet was a thing, but it was hardly the font of information it would become in a few short years. So that was when I hatched an absolutely dreadful plan. Because it occurred to me, William, if anyone out there would have information on fantastic persons and where to find them, who would it be?"

It took William a few seconds to realize she was expecting him to answer, "Uh. Oh! I mean, guess the government right? Intelligence agencies. You know, whichever group handles all the secret, shadowy things. Aliens, magic, Lady Gaga sightings."

"Exactly. So naturally, I was going to have to infiltrate the government, and get access to their classified data. Simple as that."

William started to laugh, but then abruptly stopped. "Oh...wow. You're being serious?"

"As cancer once was, yes." She smiled with girlish glee, "So I set about studying certain topics. Statistics, sociology, and especially languages. All the things that I knew would fit a certain profile. You can imagine my immense surprise…" she sarcastically drawled. "...when MI6 came tapping on my door graduation day. They were always happy to snatch up smart people who can quickly comb through reams of intelligence data and make sense of it, while speaking eight to ten different languages fluently. I had my in, and I took it. I spent years working my way up the ranks. Doing my job, paying my dues for Queen and country. I learned a lot about how the world worked, the dirty laundry it kept hidden. Got to where I was more or less running everything behind the scenes. But you know, in my almost twenty years there, I never found what I really wanted." She shook her head. "No signs of secret organizations filled with people who could perform extraordinary feats. No hidden projects, no UN task forces. No groups with clever little code names, saving the world from danger one thrill-packed adventure at a time." She swirled her tea about in her cup for a moment and said, "Of course, there were always rumors. Hints and intimations. Nothing that panned out. It wouldn't be until much, much later that I figured out the reason for it, why I couldn't find anyone else like me for so long; I'll get to that in a little while. Suffice it to say, I was incredibly frustrated by how ordinary and mundane the world seemed to be, even for those of us able to peer past the curtains. I found myself despairing, questioning the point of my entire existence. Wondering if I was some strange cosmic joke…"

"I know how that feels." William interrupted. "Pretty terrible, huh?"

She reached out, squeezed his hand, and nodded. "Dreadful. I thought about resigning my position, except I wasn't sure where to go. What to do. Adrift, without purpose or meaning. And then it happened: a particular week in October, in the year 2013. Mmmm, a hundred years ago this week, if I correctly recall. In some backwater little fishing village no one ever heard of, on the far side of The Colonies." She smirked at that last bit.

"Arcadia Bay". William offered.

"Quite. I remember monitoring the chatter coming in over the Internet; by that point, I'd filled it with clandestine expert systems and filter bots, combing the world's information networks for anything that I might find useful or interesting. It was the unscheduled eclipse that first caught my attention. A freak snowstorm is one thing, but...you understand how impossible this is, William, yes? Even a hundred years ago, it was child's play for humanity to predict eclipses years, decades in advance. There is absolutely, positively no way one could have just crept up and said 'Surprise!'."

William nodded, "I - I know. Right? That always was hyper-weird. I mean, I'm not a scientist but...what you're saying is toto-right. I mean, I've looked it up, and no one did anything more than just - I don't know? Shrug their shoulders. It's like they gave up trying to understand it." He paused, "Hey, you're the spy lady, so what really happened? I mean, what did MI6 think was going on?"

Camilla leaned in, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "So glad you asked, young man. Because nothing happened. Not a damn bloody thing."

He blinked, disbelieving, "What do you mean, nothing happened?"

"I mean", she answered, "MI6 was suddenly and mysteriously unconcerned about an eclipse no one predicted. They weren't alarmed at all. Neither was the CIA, or the FSB, or the NSA, or any other alphabet organization that you may have heard of, along with all the ones you never have. Nor did they think that a tornado, one that formed in complete defiance of all meteorological factors in play that week, was worth investigating either. 'Oh, strange things happen.' they said. 'Er, we need to focus on helping those people out, right away! Camilla, you've been doing this too long, you see sinister intent in everything now.' And the harder I pushed, the more resistant my superiors became. I showed them computer models, I explained why the events that took place in Arcadia Bay were absolutely impossible, I all but got down on my knees and begged weeping for them to personally send me to investigate. But no. Not just 'no', but after a while, they made it clear that if I didn't let it go, I'd be cashiered from MI6. And at my clearance level, you don't just get released, you end up an unfortunate tragedy, somewhere facedown in the Thames. Or just...disappear."

"I don't believe it!" William exclaimed. He then groaned, covering his face up. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to make a joke. I mean, I believe you, when you say this stuff. I don't understand why the whole world tried to ignore it, but that...that seems to be exactly what happened."

Camilla nodded once, "It was almost like a biological response to an infection. Or, perhaps most accurately, like a computer reacting to a glitch in the code. Which is not too far from the truth."

"Wait. What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I left MI6 of course. It was clear I wasn't going to get anything more out of it, and by this point, I'd infiltrated so many of their systems with backdoors only I knew about, it wasn't like I actually needed the position anymore. So I locked myself away, for weeks, months on end. Trying to figure this puzzle out. It became an obsession, an instinctive need to know what was going on. I consumed whole libraries of books in a day, trained in the gym for hours on end, hoping the endorphin rush would inspire me. Days would pass, and I was still no closer to finding the answer, even as I was certain it was right in front of me. And then it hit me." Camilla stopped, working a kink out from her neck before continuing, "This must have been around mid-2015. I spent a month not sleeping, cramming nootropic stacks like candy, trying to push my mind to the limit. To break through whatever barrier was holding me back. And oh, gosh, I must have been doing something stupid like locking myself up in my Japanese sauna, nearly ninty-five degrees Celsius. When it finally hit me, like a bolt from the blue."

"What?" William asked, trying to keep the humor out from his voice, and failing, "Massive dehydration?"

"Yes, actually." she said in retort. "But more importantly, I realized the second most important lesson in my life: the universe is a system. The System. On the surface, we know this to be truth, we see the world bound by a series of predictable physical and quantum mechanical rules and processes. But for the first time, I saw, and understood, that it was more than that. It was a great machine, a puzzlebox, sublimely complex, infinitely subtle. But so much more grand and vast, more elegant than those crude similes. For a few brief seconds, I saw the levers and gears, slides and switches behind the facade. When I crawled out of the sauna, and into the cooling bath, it finally occurred to me: someone smart enough, someone clever beyond all normal human capacity could learn how to manipulate that System. Slowly, over decades. He, or more to the point, she, could...well. It's like making a few adjustments here, a few pokes there. Flap the butterfly wings, add a few extra drops of water, a shifting of the breeze. Suddenly, the typhoon blows, the dam breaks, the avalanche starts."

William didn't know how to respond that. Up until this moment, he was content to believe this strange, impossibly old woman, with her crazy tales, because it was nothing stranger than what he himself had experienced and borne witness to. But suddenly, a line too far was in danger of being crossed.

"Hold on. Whoa. Full stop. You make it sound like you...I don't know how to say this. You figured out how to take over the world?"

"Take over? Oh good heavens, no. That would be impossible. The world wouldn't stand for that, any more than it would stand for fully investigating eclipses and tornados that shouldn't exist. No, what I figured out how to do was no more, and no less, than set certain things I required in motion and wait for the desired result. It's easy, really, when you know where and how to do it. It's easy to amass a great fortune through manipulating the stock market, it's child's play to hide that amongst a vast web of shell corporations, it's so simple to guide the right people in the right directions, when you know how."

Camilla placed her steepled hands on the table. "I found a world adrift, William. Out of control, blind, ignorant, heading for self-destruction. All I did was grasp the rudder and set a course. When I started, and needed to fulfill a handful of specific needs - like, highly sophisticated equipment that could scan the quantum fabric of space and time, I gave humanity guidance in the right place. And so, a desperate research engineer in AkashaDyne receives a few anonymous tips on how to quadruple photovoltaic efficiency while halving the cost of production, and suddenly, Arcadia Bay is the country's leader in solar generation tech. Imagine me doing this a thousand times, in a thousand different fields, over the past hundred years. Maybe I needed a more stable and cooperative world government. And so, a few politicians here and there found their re-election prospects mysteriously crumbling, and suddenly, Chloe Price-Caulfield, and others of a similar viewpoint, are Senators, Congressmen, Mayors and Governors in their stead. Imagine a thousand butterflies flapping their wings in this fashion, all over the globe. I certainly needed more time to carry out my plans. And so, anagathics research receives a huge shot in the arm in the form of any number of large grants from various corporations." She straightened up, looking fairly pleased with herself. "And if I needed to keep an eye on things, get closer to the action, it wasn't difficult to convince the powers that be that it was their good idea to put brilliant and respected MI6 veteran Camilla Davis in charge of the FBI, after she'd spent so many years as a good woman with dual citizenship. After that, it was a membership on the EU Parliament, and then a high level UN task force that doesn't officially exist..."

She shook her head, downing the rest of her tea. "Just like pushing instructions into a computer. But sometimes, I'd try to move too fast, and The System would push back. Conservative elements would reclaim political power for a while, religious terrorism would make a comeback. And so, the destruction of the Eiffel Tower, and the rise of the Freedom Eagle party. But I learned, after the first fifty decades or so, that patience was essential; if one generation refused to accept my proposed changes, I needed to wait ten or fifteen years, and try again with the next. Too much, too soon, and a kind of paradox would seize the minds of the masses. They had to be guided towards these things ever so gently. The Middle East was the toughest nut to crack. Let me tell you, The System most definitely did not like the idea of a secular Free Arabia. And so, the destruction of Jeddah."

Camilla let out a breath, and in a small voice said, "It started out initially as nothing more than a means to a simple end; to get me the technology I need to crack the mystery of Arcadia Bay, and places like it that I'd discovered over the years. For the first few years, I was really quite convinced I would fail. I'm tickled pink, of course, that things worked out better than I possibly could have imagined. Making the world a better, brighter, more beautiful place was a very happy side effect. I'm sure I would have done it for its own sake, all the same. Like I said...the world was a proper mess when I started."

William gazed at Camilla in a new, and profoundly different light. He never felt more threatened or more safe in his life. The instinct in his brain that told him to ignore whatever she was saying, to turn this crazy old bat out into the streets, and never think about her or her story again was weak to begin with, after all these years.

He could feel it dying out at long last.

William accepted, without hesitation, that he was mostly likely in the presence of the most powerful woman in the world.

"But there were people out there, powerful groups. Captains of industry, and media, and everything! They must have gotten suspicious of what you were doing?" he asked.

Camilla cackled, "Oh yes. Them. Obviously, I was aware of them already, thanks to my time in MI6. But wouldn't you know it, the same veil of incredulity that kept me from getting people to take me seriously about Arcadia Bay suddenly became my ally. Wrapped me up, like an enchanted cloak. All the same, people would, on rare occasion, come close to cracking the secret of Camilla Davies, Mistress of the World. Especially during times I'd offended The System with my attempts to manipulate it. Regretfully, I needed to take ruthless action more than once in order to safeguard myself." She closed her eyes tight at this confession.

"You make it sound like the universe has a mind of its own. A consciousness." William whispered.

Camilla leaned in and smirked, "You make it sound like it doesn't."

He bowed his head, conceding the point, before asking, "So, what happened? You must have gotten at least something you wanted. Figured things out enough to track me down?"

She nodded, "Yes. About ten years ago, I finally received the working prototypes for the equipment I envisioned decades earlier. Like a child on Christmas, playing with her new toy, I took it to all the places I could think of: Hiroshima, Stonehenge, Giza. I won't bore you right now with what I discovered. Naturally, I saved the best for last. Arcadia Bay. You can just imagine, can't you, William, what I found there? How the fabric of time and space twists and turns? The scars left over, still so fresh? But it was the loop, like some great ouroboros, that connected your great-grandparents house to Lighthouse Point and back again that confirmed all of my suspicions. You see, I knew Max and Chloe Price-Caulfield were involved, that they were in the center of whatever events took place in that one week, but I couldn't quite see how or why. And I'd become too distracted in the work of trying to shape the world to my needs to try and ask them about it; I'm afraid even I can still fall prey to tunnel vision. I could have kicked myself for losing track, missing my opportunity. But there was still you, and your grandmother. After considerable research, I realized one or both of you were somehow tied up in all of this. It was just a matter of biding my time once again, and waiting for the right moment." She held out her cup for a refill, and asked, "Do you know what that moment was, William?"

He sighed, pouring the tea dutifully. "Last week."

"Last week." she repeated. "Last week, last Tuesday, at 6:09pm local Reykjavik time, the flow of history itself was altered. And let me just say, you have no idea, none whatsoever, of what it's taken, the technology behind my sensors, to be able to detect that sort of thing. The problem of filtering out the nigh-infinite false positives alone took seventy years to crack. But I did it. The question now, of course, is why." She narrowed her eyes as she appraised him. "I'd like to know what was so important, Mr. Price, that you'd take such a terrible risk. I know you didn't go back very far, that the ripple effect was minimal. But, still." She tilted her head in an owl-like fashion. "Illuminate me."

For a few ludicrous seconds, William thought about running. Pushing Camilla out of the way, throwing his tea in her face. Fleeing in terror in the night, finding his family, and dragging them out, to go somewhere...anywhere. To hide...to…

Where? Where could I hide? What could I do? Shit, for all intents and purposes, Goddess Herself has walked into my shop.

This was it, then. The moment he'd dreaded; the moment he'd anticipated. Ever since he reached back across the decades and spawned the paradox that ensured his existence, and sealed Arcadia Bay's fate, he awaited a day like this one.

At last. To be able to tell someone. Someone who will understand. Before the end comes for me.

Tears were welling in his eyes; not of joy, or sadness, but of relief. He'd tell his tale, and then ask Camilla to make it quick. Of course, he'd plead with her, that she spare Magda and the kids, and he knew, in his heart of hearts, that this veritable force of nature would grant his last request. He wondered what might become of his poor grandmother...but there was nothing more he could do. Perhaps her desire to turn away from the truth, and keep it sealed in a vault would keep her protected, where his foolishness had condemned him.

"Not...not the first time I did it." William began, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "That was a few years back, when I was nineteen. That's when I suddenly discovered I had the power to read memories and impressions from objects. But more importantly...I could change the past while I was doing it. Like...like what you say you were doing, yeah? I could give pushes, I think. Nudge people in the right direction. I'm only guessing, because it was an accident! I promise you, it was an accident. My poor great-grandmother, she had powers too! She could rewind time, and alter the past by jumping through photographs. She blamed herself for the tornado, a tornado created when she prevented her best friend Chloe from being shot and killed. She always meant to go back in time and allow the course of events to flow the way they were supposed to be but….but I stopped her somehow. I gave her just enough of a push, that she stopped, and then lost the picture. Then, she lost her powers." He covered his face up and choked back a sob, "I never meant for it to happen! I never meant it! I didn't want to kill all those people! To make my great-grandmother spend her whole damn life living with the guilt, thinking she'd done it single-handedly. Especially when...when there are days I wonder if I'm the real reason the tornado happened."

He was speaking so quickly now, the words pushing their way out his mouth almost faster than he could form them. And then, like an engine running out of fuel, he sputtered to a stop.

Camilla gave a soft, satisfied sigh. "There it is. The final piece of the puzzle. A bit of a surprise. I like those. At my age, they so rarely spring up." With that, she reached into her greatcoat…

...and pulled out a familiar looking journal.

William looked down at it, and then up at her. "How…?"

"Oh, please. The moment I realized you and your grandmother were going to great lengths to hide something in one of the world's most secure private storage facilities, I knew I had to have it. But even now, even for me, these things take time. I only managed to get my hands on it three days ago." She casually flipped the pages, reverently stroking them. "Curious little artifact, isn't it? The impossible book. The glitch in The System, slightly outside of it. No longer bound by the conventional rules of reality." She crossed her legs, and suddenly seemed several decades younger, as her voice rose, "And for all those years, you never changed the past again? I'm assuming that much. At least, not until last week. Why? Why now?"

William nodded, "Another...accident? I have a friend, a lögreglumenn - you know, city police - uh...there was a case. Little girl was kidnapped and they didn't have any leads. And you - you know, of course you do, that I have a reputation in town. He brought me her bracelet, one they thought she dropped in the scuffle. Thought I could give them a clue. What could I do, say no?" He hugged himself tight. "I was able to figure out that it was her father. Messy custody dispute. Right as I'm about to tell him though, my friend, he gets a call on his link. Girls dead. It was an accident, but she died."

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he said, "Don't know what came over me, you know? Probably because I have kids of my own. I didn't realize what I was doing until it was too late. I grabbed the bracelet again, and I shouted at the girl, in her mind, to run, to not get in that van with her father. To run and tell her mom. And - uh - and the next thing I know, I'm in my shop. No friend, no bracelet, and a huge bloody nose that wouldn't close up for a good twenty minutes. Almost went to the hospital because of it. But I checked the news feeds, and wouldn't you know it; there was a piece about a girl who ran away when her father tried to kidnap her, and take her out of the country. I did that. I changed things. Saved her."

They were both quiet, for the better part of a minute. He stared nervously at Camilla, as she tapped her lips in thought.

"Look whatever happens next, please...leave my family out of this. They don't know anything, I swear." His eyes welled up with fresh tears. "Whatever this is...it probably skips a generation, yeah? My children….my childr- " She bore down, desperate to keep from breaking down into a pathetic mess. "Please don't."

Camilla reached out, and took his hand in hers. She gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze, and smiled at him. "Oh...you poor thing. How long you've carried this. How long you've feared the day that something, or someone, popped up and said 'Boo.'. When you pushed against The System, and it would finally push back. Ah, Mr. Price. True, you are a dangerous complication, but you're also a good man. Naturally, if I thought you were an untenable risk, I'd make it quick and painless. But...well. The truth of it is that it sounds like you need me, William. To keep you from making any more 'mistakes'. And to be quite blunt, I need you as well, for the exact same reason. You see, things have changed. The System has changed."

William was spent; he let out a few more sobs of release and relief. He felt the weight of the last few years slough off like old, dead skin. And for the first time since he could remember, the sense of his immediate and lurking doom was at last banished. Logically, he should still be afraid; it sounded like the possibility of coming to a bad end was still there, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Changed?" he asked in a tiny voice. "How?"

"Because we're suddenly not alone. It took me all this time to figure it out, but people like you and I? We were literally one in a billion, when I first...emerged. That ratio has been slowly increasing, just within the past few years. A decade ago, it was more like one in seven-hundred fifty million. A few special individuals, almost all of whom went into hiding, committed suicide, or were locked away. I would say it's getting closer to one in two-hundred million today. As a result, the governments of the world are at last starting to take notice; that 'blind spot' that's always existed, concealing this sort of thing is diminishing in power. At this rate, it's only a matter of time before hundreds, maybe thousands of people, with powers and abilities like yours and mine, come into existence. Into a world that, even now, is barely prepared for the disruption they'll create." She inhaled sharply through her nose, and said, "You see, William. The reason I can hardly fault you the sins of your past is that I have a theory about all of this. I'm afraid - well - that this is largely on me."

"What. Wait. Really? Like you mucked about with the machine as if it was your own home fabricator, and now human evolution is speeding up?" William said, his old ornery charm returning.

"Hmmm. Something like that, perhaps." Camilla smiled. "I've had so many years to think about it. I believe one of the prime functions of The System is to act as a test of sorts. A series of stages, each emerging with increasing complexity. As humankind passes through each phase, technologically and culturally, new variables are thrown into the mix. Things get harder and harder to deal with, more challenging. We very nearly wiped ourselves out, but didn't. Not to boast too loudly about it, but if I hadn't been around, we might well have. So now, humanity goes past a crucial threshold, thanks to my interference, shows that we aren't going to destroy ourselves in nuclear, cultural or environmental fire and flame, that we have enough technological know-how and maturity to start spreading out across the solar system. What comes next? A sudden sea-change in human capacity maybe? A new species arising to supplant the old, in the way that Homo Habilis and Neanderthals gave way to Homo Sapiens? Whatever it is, William, I need to get ahead of it. We need to get ahead of it. I think this could do a lot of good, bring amazing things to the forefront...but it could also be the impetus for us wiping ourselves out once and for all. A new threat, just as we've managed to dodge the previous one."

She leaned back, stared down at the table, and spoke in a quiet voice, "As pleasant and peaceful as the 22nd century may be, I'm afraid I have to admit that in my arrogance and sense of righteous superiority, I've done nothing more than trade one set of demons for another. I like to think that ultimately, foundationally, I am a good person, but I can't deny that over the decades, I've done things, played ethical calculus with lives, taken actions that would and should make the stomachs of decent people everywhere turn in disgust. So can you imagine it, Will? " She looked back up at him, steely-eyed, "If someone should arise, someone like me, with my abilities, except that they're also a completely amoral sociopath? If they figure out how to alter The System that way I have…"

She bowed her head, suddenly looking each and every one of her years. "So I'm expanding my operation. Bringing others into the fold. That must sound so sinister and terrible, and in a certain sense, I suppose it is. But I've come to realize something very important: I can't do this alone anymore. A century back, there was no one else I could turn to, but now? Today? I need you, William. More to the point, I need you, not because of your abilities - as useful as they will no doubt become - but I need someone young. A good man. A kind one, with love in his heart, and eyes unclouded, who can see the vital details, the importance of a single human life. You and I and others like us, the first of a new species, need to be a representative of our better angels. A shining example. A reminder that humankind is so much better than it thinks it is. I'm convinced The System has multiple players at the highest levels. Some for what we would simplistically call Order; others for what you would know as Chaos. It's obvious what team we need to root for."

William could only nod. He didn't believe it, but he didn't disbelieve any of it either. Suddenly, he could see the humanity behind the facade of power that Camilla wore

"You're not the first person I've reached out to about this, but you are, in my opinion, the most important. I'm not going to force you to join, I'm not going to threaten, or cajole. If I can't convince you of the importance of what I'm propo-"

"Yes." William interrupted.

"Wait. What?"

"I said...yes."

And why not? Because it made sense. It made too much sense. Why his powers were still with him, after all this time. Why he kept himself alive with a causality paradox, and why he kept his great-grandfather alive. Why the constant sense that there was some sort of destiny out there for him, some great and powerful moment - of what he thought was doom, only to discover it was more of transformation. This was that moment. He could no more turn away from it than he could stop breathing or eating.

Furthermore, what would happen if he said no? What if the world did descend into chaos and confusion, as a whole new race of empowered individuals burst forth onto an unprepared humanity? What if the day came, years from now, where someone he loved died, or worse, because he could have done something about it, helped Camilla when she reached out for him, and he said no? What if she made a terrible mistake, one he could have talked her out of? The woman was literally asking him to play her conscience.

How was his answer ever going to be anything other than...

"I'm in. Whatever you have in mind, I'm in. I think i was always meant to help you. But...ah. I'd like to tell my wife. I know she suspects something, but I want to tell her the truth."

Camilla twitched her lips. "Oh. Well. Marvelous! Yes. Hmmm. Honestly, I had this whole speech prepared to try and convince you, but...anyhow. I did anticipate you asking that question. I'd rather you not, but at the same time, I've worked up a psyche profile on Magda, and I think she can be trusted. But - not yet. At least, tell her about you, about your abilities, but nothing more." She reached into her coat one last time, and pulled out a thin slip of metallic paper. William held it up to the light: a holographic representation of a swan, spreading its wings up as if in flight, popped off from the surface, along with a linkcode.

"Give me two, three weeks tops. I'll be in touch again, and then I'll bring her in the rest of the way." She reached out, to squeeze his shoulder. "This is going to be wonderful. You'll see. A lot of hard work, to be certain, and dark days as well I'm afraid but...I'm feeling hopeful, and that, my dear, is the next best thing to feeling young. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to Geneva. There's a lot of work ahead."

William helped Camilla to her feet, escorting her to the door. Before turning away, she shook his hand one last time, smiled at him, and said, "See you soon, William. Oh...and welcome to the Black Swan Initiative."

With that, she turned and walked away, fading quickly into the twilight.

A/N: And that, as they say, is a wrap.

A few shout outs before I get into my "directors commentary." I want to say hi to all the lovely folk I've met this week on the LiS Discord server. I had a lot of fun brainstorming an AU story where Rachel, Steph and Chloe are all bad-girl greasers in a rockabilly band in the 1950s. I mean, I don't think I'm going to write it, but I sure as hell hope someone does!

I want to specifically shout out to KirstyIsStrange, who struck up a really lovely conversation with me on Twitter, and invited me to check out Discord. I also want to say "hey" to ByJillianMaria on Tumblr, who is currently working on what I think is going to be really awesome original fiction.

Of course, there's LonesomeBard, writing wingman and artist extraordinaire. I always learn something so vitally useful when he reads over my work; Camilla's speech where she strikes a tone of humility, and asks William to keep her on the straight and narrow was a last minute addition that his feedback inspired. So thanks so much to him, and keep an eye out on his own excellent Saving Rachel Amber!

Oh! And of course I have to give one more bow to White Story, who initially inspired me to write this sequel in the first place.

So you Black Swan fans probably know who Camilla is; I hope you enjoyed her surprise turn in the Grande Dame universe. It gave me a chance to use material I'd developed for a potential Black Swan sequel; her origin story as presented here is pretty much the same as it was in Black Swan, except that as soon as she Emerged, she was naturally scooped up by Taskforce Excalibur, and eventually "loaned out" to SOAP in the early 1990's to head up Project Opticon. The rest, as they say, is history. Max knows exactly what bad thing happened to Camilla's mother, how she died, and why Camilla blames herself; it's in the letter SwanMax sends to Camilla in the last three chapters, and how she convinces her to take her words seriously.

Oddly enough, someone once wrote a very long and ranty critique over what they thought was wrong with the Black Swan universe. One bit they pointed out was that for the smartest lady in the world, Camilla didn't seem to be all that powerful, and so I thought, maybe it would be interesting to show what she could do if she was unchained, in a universe that has some sort of "machinery" behind it that could be exploited. Obviously, I'm invoking some themes of The Matrix here, but more importantly, I would say a lot of what is presented here is inspired by a truly excellent tabletop game, Mage: The Ascension. Camilla has effectively become a more benevolent, one-woman version of the Technocracy, trying to maintain order against an increasing threat of individuals who can screw around with it. Also, the notion of The Consensus (The System) is borrowed heavily as well. I could probably expound at length about my thoughts here but...I think I'm really too eager to publish to go on. Besides, I need to have something to talk about to folks who ask me questions in the future :)

Anyhow, thank you for coming along on what will be my last bit of writing in a long time...possibly ever, at least in terms of Life is Strange. Don't get me wrong, I love it so much, I always will, but at the moment, I feel like I've tread the ground I wanted to, said the things I've needed to. I hope this incredibly remarkable work continues to inspire authors for years to come. And maybe now, I'll actually have some time to read some of it :)

Have a great rest of 2017!