I have a message from another time... Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presents UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT - SYMPHONY OF THE SWORD - Hogtown Rhapsody Benjamin D. Hutchins "Chance" by Jon Oliva and Paul O'Neill "Joyride (I Saw the Film)" by Tribe (c) 2001 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited 10:13 PM EASTERN TIME SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2405 I-90 WESTBOUND, CANANDAIGUA, NEW YORK, EARTH /* Mono Puff "Guitar Was the Case" _Unsupervised_ */ It was unseasonably warm for late February; the winter of 2404-2405 was fading early and fast, and the night sky over upstate New York was clear and splashed with stars. Even unseasonably warm isn't all that warm in New York State in February, though; the temperature stood at forty or so degrees Fahrenheit, warm enough that what little snow remained was melting, but not exactly shorts weather. Which made it all the more unusual, on the face of it, that the antique Impala convertible that was currently heading west on Interstate 90 had its top down. Utena Tenjou sat in the passenger seat of that Impala, leaning back with her right arm hanging over the side of the car, and marveled at it, as she had all night. Here she was, riding in an open car in February, the wind ruffling her hair and the sleeves of her jacket, and she was just as warm and comfortable as if it were a pleasant summer night. Kaitlyn Hutchins, whose car it was, had tried to explain it to her, but she'd gotten as far as "multi-phasic field containment system" before Utena had told her never mind. All that mattered was that, as long as the little green light on the dash next to the radio stayed lit, a bubble of space extending to about an arm's length from all sides of the car stayed warm. Utena knew this last part because, if she raised her hand above her head and stretched a little bit, the tips of her fingers would suddenly tingle as if she'd touched them to ice water, and when she drew them back, they'd be cold against her face. The field also damped the noise of the wind enough that conversation was possible at a comfortable volume level. Since leaving Ballston Lake, where they'd stopped at Lakeside Farms for dinner, the fivesome in the Impala had traveled in relative silence. Each was absorbed with his or her own thoughts, listening to the music that Kate and Utena cycled in and out of the stereo system, and generally savoring the fact that classes were out for two weeks and they were heading for a magical and exotic land where everything was better. Utena turned a little in her seat to look into the back. Miki Kaoru, seated behind Kate, seemed to be asleep; R. Dorothy Wayneright, who sat straight and uncomplaining in the middle, looked back at her with the faintest of smiles; and Kyouichi Saionji was sprawled out in his third of the spacious back seat, his arm flung across behind Dorothy, looking up at the sky with a dreamy expression on his lean, narrow face. Utena smiled a bit at the sight of him. Who would have thought that Saionji could even -have- that look on his face, let alone that Utena would find herself pleased to see it someday? He seemed to notice her watching him; his eyes snapped back into focus, and he raised his head, grinning sardonically. "This is a strange feeling," he said. "The last time I rode in a convertible... " He glanced across Dorothy at Miki, who had roused from his nap with the start of a conversation and was looking curiously at him. "Well, you had that amusing experience too, didn't you, Kaoru?" Miki gave him a blank look. "I don't... " he said, then blinked and looked faintly troubled. "Oh," he said. "Yes. That was... different." Then he smiled, looked up at the sky, and said, "Very different indeed." Utena gave them both a puzzled look, then seemed to put it together: "Oh. Let's not go anywhere near there tonight, huh? I'm in a good mood and I don't wanna ruin it." "I hear -that-," said Saionji. "Subject dropped." "It's a beautiful night," said Dorothy, following Miki's gaze upward. "You can see so much more without city lights around." "Yes," said Miki. "Indeed," said Saionji. Utena giggled a bit at the sight of all three of them sitting in almost identical positions, hands folded on chests, faces upturned. Under most circumstances, she tended not to find astronomy all that amusing, but this was so very different... She smiled and turned to face the driver. "How're you holding up?" she asked. "F-fine," Kate replied with a grin. She was relaxed behind the controls, one hand atop the wheel, her left arm along the top of her door, her very-slightly-curly brown hair blowing behind her in the wind. She glanced across at her roommate, the dash lights reflecting from her glasses. "P-purring like a k-kitten." "Mm," said Utena, settling back into her seat and stretching her fingertips up into the cold air again. "Wish we could've brought Nall with us." "So d-does Nall," Kate replied, and they shared a laugh. The car prowled smoothly onward through the night, its occupants conversing about this and that, falling silent periodically to listen to the music and enjoy the emptiness of the road. At one point they broke the fugue section of an old Savatage song up between them and had a fine time with it, though Dorothy rightly observed that Saionji had a hard time keeping to his own line's meter ("I believe that situations all depend on circumstance") in a fugue. "Oh - Kaitlyn?" "Y-yes?" "Did you bring the rehearsal recordings from Thursday?" "Th-this is a v-v-vacation, Miki." "I know - but did you?" "... W-well, yes." "You guys are obsessed." "This isn't obsession. I've felt obsession. This is just strong interest." "Hey, c'mon, Saionji. Don't get all philosophical. And for God's sake button your shirt, willya? I don't need to see your scrawny chest everytime I turn around to talk to Miki." "Oh? Having difficulty controlling yourself, Tenjou?" "When we get out of this car, you are -so- dead." "Just for laughs, let's see what's on the radio in Rochester." "... Or n-n-not... " "Yeah." "What -was- that?" "The Thrusterbusters' 'Super-Sexual Destruction Imperative', first single from their 2231 debut album, 'Bust a Thruster'. Experimental jizz-fusion digiwail with reggae, punk rock and Antarean sklunge influences." "Sounded more like somebody torturing a cat underwater to me." "The comparison is apt. They have also been compared to an unfiltered hyperpulse signal, only not as tonal." "Ooo. Th-that's a g-good one." o/~ "Haven't got a lot to say, have you, have you, oh you've done it now haven't you, haven't you, how many times I didn't unfold you, look at your face I hardly know you, oh I'm in it now up to eyebrow, oh I've done it now - " (breathe) " - haven't I, oh me thinkin' you'd be my joyride, I'll be lucky just to survive... " "Yeah! Th-that's g-good. P-perfect. I th-think we c-c-could do that one in c-concert s-somet-t-time." "I don't know... get up on stage and -sing-? I'm used to being behind a piano." "Go ahead, Miki, join the band. You'll have girls lining up. If they can get past Azalynn." "I do l-love the w-w-way he b-blushes." "Yeah, he's almost as cute as Corwin." "S-Saionj-ji... " "Yeah." "S-s-standing up is d-d-dangerous." "... Right." "Hey Kate... " "Y-yes, Utena?" "Does your car have a name yet?" "Mm... n-not yet. I h-haven't thought of a g-g-good one y-yet." "How about 'Vlad'?" "'V-Vlad'?" "... the Impala... oh, Dorothy, that's -awful-." "Owwwww... " "You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Dorothy." "I'm n-not sure I w-w-want you to d-develop a s-sense of humor if it's g-g-going to b-be that b-b-bad." "Corwin was right... there's just no pleasing some people." They reached the Canadian border at half past midnight, pulling up to the tollbooth-like customs station with the music silenced. Five young people in an open atmoshielded convertible in the middle of the night, and the driver stuttered; Kaitlyn figured the odds were about one in a hundred they wouldn't be asked to pull to the side and show an RCMP officer through their luggage. "Evenin'," said the customs officer in the booth. "G-good e-e-ev-v-ven-ning," said Kaitlyn; then, with a sigh, she gestured to Utena. "Uh, hi," said Utena. "Sorry about this. Kate has kind of a problem talking to strangers." "Mm," grunted the officer (whose nametag read "RIVERS"). He gave Kate a compassionate smile and added, "Bummer." Kaitlyn nodded with a "yeah, it's a pain" expression and an eloquent shrug. "Citizenship?" asked Officer Rivers. "Zeta Cygni," said Utena. "That's for everybody?" "Yup." "'K. Where are you coming from on Earth?" "Worcester, Mass," she replied. "We're students at Worcester Preparatory Institute." "All of you?" "Yup." "'K. Purpose for visiting Canada?" "Vacation in Toronto," Utena told him. The statement brought a smile to his thin, blue-jowled face. "Sounds like you've been there before." "Once, last year," said Utena. "We caught Game 7. Had so much fun we decided to come back for spring break." "Lucky you," said Rivers. "I watched it on TV. Hey, I think maybe I saw you. I thought you looked familiar." Utena wondered if he was hitting on her. Yeah, sure, pal. 45,000 people at that game, you saw -me- on TV. But maybe he was just being nice. "Anyway," said Rivers, "how long will you be staying?" "A week. We're headed back next Saturday." "Any weapons?" "Two swords. We're licensed." Kaitlyn and Utena handed over the paperwork. Rivers looked it over. "WPI Duelists, huh? Didn't know any American schools had those any more." "As far as we know, we're the only one." "You up here for a tournament or something?" "No, just fun, but we have to keep in training." "Fair enough," said Rivers, returning their papers. "Any meats or fruits?" "No." "Anything else to declare?" "N - " Utena stopped; Dorothy was raising her hand. "Oh. Duh. Sorry. Dorothy here is a robot." Rivers raised an eyebrow. "Really? She's the most realistic-looking one I've ever seen. I'd never have known." "Thank you," said Dorothy. "Are you Turing-certified?" Rivers asked her. "No," Dorothy replied. "Whose are you?" "Corwin Ravenhair of New Avalon - Kaitlyn's brother," she said, indicating the driver. Kate smiled and waved. "Kaitlyn is my custodian here on Earth." "You have the paperwork for that?" said Rivers to Kate. "S-sure," she replied. "H-h-h-hang o-on... " She took out her wallet, extracted the red-edged certificate from it, and handed it over. Rivers read it, nodded, and handed it back. "Do you have any built-in weapons or defensive systems?" he asked Dorothy. "No," Dorothy replied. "The First Law - " "OK," said Rivers, holding up a hand with a smile. "I have to ask." "I understand." "OK, kids, you're all set," said the customs agent, tabbing the control on his panel that raised the barrier from in front of the Impala. "Have a great time in Toronto!" "Th-th-thanks," said Kate with a grin; she put the car in gear, let out the clutch, and off they went. "Wow," said Utena as Kaitlyn found her way to the Queen Elizabeth Way. "That was cool. I thought for sure they were going to search us." "M-maybe he w-w-was int-timid-dated by Saionji's m-mighty chest," said Kate with a smile. "Hrm?" said Saionji, raising his head. "Someone say my name?" "You slept through Customs?!" Utena demanded. "Customs? We're in Canada?" "Yes!" "Then I guess I did." Saionji yawned, stretched, and reached one long arm across the seat behind Dorothy to joggle Miki's shoulder. "What about you, Kaoru? Did you sleep through Customs too?" "Mh?" said Miki, blinking. "Did you say something, Saionji?" "You guys!" said Utena, amazed. "Cut us some slack, Tenjou," said Saionji. "Route 62 was -boring-. Maybe if you'd managed to find the bridge the Falls can be seen from... " "Well I'm -sorry-. I got the routes mixed up. We'll see them on the way back, OK?" Saionji smiled. "OK, Tenjou, don't get your shorts in a knot. I was only joking." He looked thoughtful, then added, "Route 62 -was- boring, though." "At l-least we d-d-didn't c-come ac-cross Grand Island," said Kate. "Blech!" "Hey, Dorothy," Utena mused a few minutes later, as the Impala was lunging up to cruising speed on the open stretch of the QEW. "Yes?" Dorothy said. "Did you -lie- to the Customs guy back there?" "No," Dorothy replied. "But you started to tell him about the First Law - " "I never said I was subject to it," Dorothy replied piously. "I cannot be held accountable for the unwarranted inferences of humans." Utena blinked at her, then grinned. "No, I guess you can't," she replied, then turned back to the front. "Unbelievable," she murmured, shaking her head with a fond smile. She glanced at Kate, who grinned and said nothing. They rounded the toe of Lake Ontario on an all-but-deserted QEW, passing by the lights of Hamilton and admiring the lake from the vantage point of the Very High Bridge near there, bathed in the light of the nearly-full moon. Dorothy took a few pictures of it. They growled along the Great Wall of Mississauga, past the Motel 6 where the Art of Noise had spent a very odd night (Kate and Utena passing each other a silent smile in the front seat as both remembered a private moment from that place), and, at last, the gleaming majesty of Toronto appeared before them. Utena hadn't really seen it like this when they'd arrived last time; Moose's van wasn't much of a vantage point for things straight ahead, if you were sitting in one of the passenger seats. On a beautiful clear night in an open convertible, though, it was like being in a holotheater. She noticed that, where New Avalon shone with a soft, warm golden light, Toronto had a cooler, more silvery look to its nightglow - a light that blended well with the shining near-full moon to make the whole thing look vaguely ethereal, as thought its towers and lights would disappear if a cloud crossed the moon. Only the scarlet pinpricks of the aircraft lights on the tall buildings and the running lights of aircars and airships lent any color to the skyline. It didn't have the grandeur of New Avalon, but that moonlit glow had its own impressiveness. "Wow," she said. "Mm," said Kate, grinning. "It's -beautiful-," Miki murmured. "That it is," Saionji agreed. "Toronto is only the hundredth most beautiful city in the Federation, according to - " "Have you no poetry in your soul, R. Dorothy?" said Saionji expansively. He put his arm around her shoulders, gestured to the city with his free hand, and said, "Does this vista not touch your heart? Is its relative beauty so important when it's the only one before your eyes?" Utena turned around in her seat to give him a very puzzled expression. "What do you want," he grumbled. "I'm tired." "You make a valid argument, Mr. Saionji," said Dorothy. "I don't wish to debate whether I -have- a soul or heart at the moment, but nevertheless, your point is taken. It is... quite lovely." "A-and I," said Kaitlyn, "am q-q-quite hungry." "It's almost 2 in the morning," said Miki. "S-so it is," said Kate. She turned a sly smile to Utena. "A-and you kn-know what th-that means... " "Happy Seven!" the roommates chorused (well, more or less). Happy Seven was a small restaurant on Spadina Avenue in Toronto's Chinatown, a bit south of the University. Kate pulled the Impala to the curb in front of the restaurant, then got out and took a careful look at the curb and the signage on that block to make certain it was actually legal to park there. The coast appeared to be clear, so she got back into the car and put the top up. Once everybody was out, she stood back and pressed the red button on the little keyfob remote that had accompanied the keys. There was a soft, almost apologetic "honk" from the Impala's horn, and for the briefest of instants, the skin of the car seemed to shimmer, like oil dripped onto the surface of water. Smiling with satisfaction, Kate flipped the keys back into her hand and pocketed them, and the five entered the restaurant. "Oh my goodness," Miki said as they crossed the threshold. "I... yes," said Saionji, equally stunned. Happy Seven had the kitschiest decor either young man had ever seen. The restaurant was fairly small and narrow, with room for two rows of round tables with an aisle in between leading back to the kitchen and restrooms. The ceiling was festooned with brightly colored plastic light fixtures which were garish replicas of Chinese paper lanterns. The walls were covered with pinkish-orange wallpaper and, over that, various bright prints with large Chinese characters and stylized images of people eating. There was a fat, smug-looking lucky cat statue on the little counter next to the cash register in front, and several equally fat and smug-looking plastic Buddhas ("Buddhae?" wondered Miki) scattered here and there in niches and on pedestals throughout the dining room. The tables had pink plastic tablecloths, and the napkins were folded into little tulip shapes and stuffed into the empty water glasses. "Hi, how you?" asked the smiling hostess. "Five? This way please." She peered at Utena. "You... you be here before?" "Huh? Uh, yeah, a couple of times," Utena replied, somewhere between puzzled and impressed. "Last year." "I thought so," said the hostess. "You Red Sox fans, right? Come here after big game." "Yeah, that's right!" said Utena, now just impressed. "Wow. How'd you remember us?" The hostess grinned and touched her own black hair. "Iss your hair," she said. "How often you see that color? You with -real- big guy that time, too, anna blue girl, anna little short girl who eat like a horse. Not easy forget that bunch, huh?" Utena was forced to admit that she had a point. "I see you're still leaving your mark on the world everywhere you go, Tenjou," Saionji observed dryly after the hostess had left them with their menus. Utena grinned at him. "Some girls got it." "The last person she mentioned must have been Azalynn," said Miki with a smile. "Y-yup," said Kate. "She s-slammed down t-two orders of m-moo shi ch-ch-chicken and a l-large p-p-pork l-lo mein." "Not counting the stuff she filched from everybody else's plate," Utena added. "I think she boosted a whole egg roll off Devlin's plate with her tail." "D-Devlin never f-f-finishes his egg r-rolls anyw-way," said Kate with a dismissive gesture. "I wonder how his trip to Gamilon is going," Dorothy wondered. Kate checked her watch. "B-by now, he's p-probably in b-bed." She smiled slyly and added, "W-whether he's as-s-sleep is an o-open q-question." Miki went a trifle pink and busied himself with his menu. "Man," said Utena, "now -there's- a relationship that I don't get at -all-." "Love turns up in unexpected places sometimes," Saionji mused. "Yeah... that's true," Utena agreed, nodding thoughtfully. They got to the Imperial Tower Hotel, at the corner of Yonge and Wood Streets, at a little past three, by which point, between the hour and the food, they were all (except Dorothy, of course) feeling a bit worn down. There was a moment of confusion at the front desk when the desk clerk, noting that Utena was speaking for Kaitlyn's stutter, assumed -Utena- was the companion robot listed on their reservation and complimented Kate on her realism, but once that was straightened out they found their way to their rooms on the twenty-seventh floor without further difficulty. The girls took room 2716, on the south side of the tower; Miki and Saionji thus ended up with room 2715, across the hall on the north side. They said their goodnights in the hall, making plans to sleep in (it was Sunday, after all - even in the early 25th century, Canada was largely closed on Sundays) and let Day One sort itself out organically once they were all up. Dorothy put her suitcase down next to the tall, dark-stained cabinet which held the television, then surveyed the large, comfortable room. It was furnished all in the same dark wood: two queen beds, a brown leather sofa, a desk and swivel chair, the television cabinet, a bureau, a nightstand, and a small table with a couple of dining chairs. The window in the far wall was actually a sliding glass door that led out onto a little concrete balcony with a view of Yonge Street stretching southward past the clutch of towers that hid the lake from view. "Swanky," said Utena as she dropped her bag next to Dorothy's. "Do I want to know what this is costing?" "N-not that m-m-much, act-tually," said Kate. "They j-just opened l-last month - they're still r-r-running introd-ductory r-rates to t-try and d-draw b-business. F-February isn't ex-xactly tourist s-season ar-round here." "Oh. What was here before?" "A d-different hotel." "Ah." "I'll take the couch," said Dorothy. "Would they bring another pillow and blanket if we called the desk and asked?" Utena looked queryingly at Kate, who smiled and shrugged as she went into the bathroom to unpack her toiletries and change for the night. "That's OK, Dorothy," Utena said. "You can take one of the beds. Kate and I can share the other." Dorothy gave her a mildly puzzled look. "Are you sure?" she inquired. "I don't need to sleep at all; I only do it because I've... " She paused as if searching her vocabulary. "... I've come to enjoy it," she went on after a moment. "Yeah, it's OK," Utena repeated, then grinned. "We don't want to disrupt your experiment, after all." "All right," said Dorothy. "Thank you." Sunday was a low-structure day. They awoke at their own paces and fulfilled the usual duties of the first day in a hotel: unpacking their things, finding the soda machines, bitching about the exorbitant prices, filling the ice buckets. Then Saionji and Miki carried the chairs from their room's little table across the hall, and the five of them assembled around the table in room 2716. Here, with a pile of guidebooks, the complimentary magazine from the desk, lunch from room service, and a copy of the Sunday Globe & Mail, they set out to plan, in broad strokes, their week in Hogtown. ("Hogtown?!" Saionji blurted. "What kind of a nickname for a city is 'Hogtown'?" "Authorities are divided on the true etymology of the nickname," Dorothy began, "but - " "Dorothy, c'mon. Vacation, remember?" "Of course. Sorry.") With that accomplished, they went out just to walk around the downtown area and get a feel for the city. It was a nice day, sunny and brisk - more like fall than late winter. The four Duelists and friend chatted about this and that, walking aimlessly up and down the streets of Toronto in the early afternoon. Presently, their course brought them to the Bata Shoe Museum. Saionji and Miki were just as amazed as Amanda Dessler had been that there -was- such a thing as a museum dedicated to shoes, but neither was as skeptical as the Gamilon had been. "Well," Utena observed, "they're open for another couple of hours. Why not?" Why not indeed? The Bata Shoe Museum received its second and third visitors from Cephiro, and they were duly impressed. Emerging from the museum at its 5 PM closing into a rapidly gathering evening, the five resumed their tramp. As they explored Toronto's rather quiet Sunday-night streets, Saionji developed a fondness for the city's mascots. Toronto is populated by hundreds of concrete moose, which stand on street corners and in front of buildings like cervine sentinels, large, friendly, and often imaginatively (sometimes garishly) painted. They first appeared in the late twentieth century, ostensibly for a temporary art exhibition, and have never gone. Saionji didn't know that; he only knew that they were the funniest, most charming civic quirks he'd ever seen, and he simply had to have pictures of them. The walk thus became a hunt, as he borrowed Kaitlyn's digital camera and led the five hither and yon in search of shots of the ultimate moose. Eventually, the hunt carried them down to the lakefront. Here Utena and Kaitlyn pointed out the Raiderdome, reliving the high points of the World Series game they'd seen there the previous year (not that their friends hadn't heard all the war stories before). "Hey, y'know," said Utena, pointing to the Dome's nearest neighbor, "we never -did- go up the Tower." "Mm... n-no, we n-never did," Kate mused. "Well, l-let's c-c-correct that. I'm h-hungry anyway." Response to that statement made it clear that hunger was in fact a common problem across the group (well, except for Dorothy). Plus, the Tower had a moose; it could be clearly seen from across the Raiderdome plaza. So they would have had to go over near it anyway, and so... A man of wisdom once said, "Never eat at a restaurant on the top of a building. If you must do so, at least make certain it does not revolve." The restaurant at the top of the CN Tower in Toronto is called "360". You can work out for yourself what that means it must do. Nevertheless, the food was good, and the view spectacular. It was another beautiful night, sparkling clear, and though the Tower was no longer the city's tallest building, it was still a respectable height, providing a good vantage point from which to overlook the city and the lake (depending on the orientation of their table at any given moment). Sometimes aircars would pause by the windows so their occupants could wave to restaurant patrons before darting away. Utena found herself nostalgic for the airships of New Avalon. "Do you suppose we're higher than the dueling platform?" Saionji wondered as he looked down at Lake Ontario. Utena looked too, then shrugged. "I dunno. I never could see the ground from up there. There were always clouds in the way." "The guidebook says there are 1,769 stairs to the top of the tower," Miki pointed out. "I wish I'd thought to count the ones leading to the platform." "First time I had to climb up there, it felt like there were about a million," said Utena. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you didn't time how long it took you to get to the top?" Miki shook his head. "I was always too preoccupied." "Huh. Tsk, tsk... sloppy." "However," Miki went on, consulting his watch, "it takes this restaurant almost exactly 72 minutes to complete a full revolution." Utena looked across the table at him, an odd look on her face; then she burst out laughing. Miki blinked at her. "What?" he asked. Saionji gave him a wry smile. "Say what you just said again," he told Miki. "It takes this restaurant almost exactly 72 minutes to complete a full revolution," said Miki. "... Oh." "I just had this image... " Utena gasped, "of you two... and Juri... and Touga... having a Council meeting... in a REVOLVING RESTAURANT at the top of the belltower... " "Wouldn't have been much stranger than some of the meetings we -did- have," mused Miki. Saionji drew himself up and intoned impressively, "If a diner cannot lift the lid of his entree, he will die without ever eating dessert." Miki didn't miss his cue. "We are the diner," said he. "The world is our entree. If we cannot lift the lid, we will die without ever eating dessert." "Lift the world's lid!" Saionji declared grandly. "For the Revolution of the Restaurant!" the two former councillors said together, raising their water glasses in a toast. Kaitlyn reached to prop her hysterically giggling roommate up from sliding out of her chair. People at neighboring tables turned to stare. Kate gave them non-hostile mind-your-own-business sorts of looks. "OK," she said to the three Cephireans, "you g-guys are off-f-ficially p-punchy." She glanced at her watch. "N-not even el-leven yet." She shook her head. "S-sad." "Remarkable," observed R. Dorothy dryly. Monday found them piling back into the Impala (whose Dorothy- suggested name, much to Utena's dismay, looked like sticking) and heading out to the Ontario Science Centre. Saionji was happy with the place from the moment they arrived - it had a moose. They spent most of the day there, exploring the various exhibits and hands-on experiments. In the Robotics and Machine Intelligence section, Dorothy amused herself by trapping a Zavrenskiy tester in a logic loop, "proving" that -he- was a machine and -she- was human, and thus demonstrating why Zavrenskiy tests hadn't been used as part of the Turing Board battery for over a century. Miki and Saionji spent at least ten minutes gleefully teleporting each other back and forth from one end of the Matter Transference and Energy Manipulation exhibit hall to the other while Kaitlyn took her time reading the placards. At lunchtime, they all sat down at a table in the museum's cafteria-style Pizza Pizza, trays of slices in hand, talking cheerfully about the half of the museum they'd seen so far. "The way you wrapped that logic tester guy up in his own argument was really cool, Dorothy," Utena observed. "Ind-d-deed," said Kate, nodding, as she covered her pizza slices liberally with what she thought was grated parmesan cheese from a glass shaker. "I th-think you're r-ready for T-Turing." "Perhaps," Dorothy allowed, which was as close as she ever got to that topic. "At any rate, I - what's the matter?" Kaitlyn had just taken a bite of her first slice, and was now regarding it with an expression somewhere between surprise and disgust. Slowly, she chewed, swallowed, took a large drink of her Coke, and then said, "That... is n-n-not cheese." Miki gave her a quizzical look, picked up the shaker, and sniffed at it; then he blinked in surprise and put it down. "Oh," he said. "Garlic powder?" asked Dorothy. Kate nodded. "I'll b-be right b-b-back," she said, got up, and went back to the line at the counter. Saionji watched her go, puzzled. "She's not going to eat it?" he asked. "Um, no," said Utena. The two slices were nearly white with powdered garlic, as if they'd been left out in a heavy snowfall. Kate was very fond of grated parmesan. "Shame to let it go to waste," said Saionji, and he stole them. "Oh, -ew-," said Utena. "You're seriously going to -eat- that?" "Certainly," said Saionji around his first bite. "Garlic is good for you." He swallowed, then gave her a sardonic look. "I don't think -you're- in any position to criticize my eating habits, Tenjou," he added. "At least the stuff I eat -tastes- good," Utena pointed out. "I'll take that as a compliment to my grilling skills," said Saionji with mock smugness. "You're impossible," said Utena with a grin. "I try," said Saionji. "G-good Lord, y-y-you're eating th-that?" said Kate as she returned with two more slices and a shaker she had been assured was really cheese. For the remainder of the Science Centre visit, the rest of the group was scrupulously careful to remain upwind of Saionji. Miki and Kaitlyn took a bit longer than the others to finish, since the last section of the museum was the Acoustics and Music hall. All the exhibits and experiments in this hall interested them both enormously. In particular, Miki had never seen a theremin before, and was astounded by it. "A completely analog instrument," Miki mused, waving his hands over the electrodes and listening with a broadening smile to the eerie howl that poured from the speaker. "This is fantastic!" Kate grinned. "I kn-know how to b-b-build them if you w-want one," she said. "Really?" asked Miki. "Where'd you learn that?" "Corw-win," she replied. The music and acoustics exhibits held their interest until the place closed down around them and they were forced to visit the gift shop and then hie themselves out. They found the other three in said shop, where they'd been browsing for nearly an hour. Saionji had a stuffed moose; Dorothy had a book on the evolution of machine intelligence testing and theory; Utena had a couple of Science Centre t-shirts and a toy gyroscope. Miki wondered, as he picked out a couple of t-shirts for himself, what a moose had to do with science. Saionji informed him it wasn't the 'Science' part so much as the 'Ontario' part. Slightly footsore but in good spirits, the Duelists and Dorothy returned to the Imperial Tower and kicked back for a while in room 2716, watching some random TV. Miki admired the view from the room's balcony, which he said was more interesting than that to be had from the window (no balconies on the north side) of 2715. At seven, they went down to the subway and rode it south to BCE Place for dinner at the Marche movenpick, a favorite of Utena's since her first visit to the city the previous year. (And what a pity Worcester didn't have one; but then Worcester didn't have much of anything, when you got right down to it.) "T-too bad w-we didn't th-think to c-come earlier, Utena," said Kaitlyn as she perused the selection of breads in one section of the vast mock-marketplace restaurant. "We c-could've had another g-game of b-b-bubble hockey at the H-Hall of F-F-Fame." "Oh yeah," said Utena. "That is in this building, isn't it?" "What, pray tell," Saionji wondered as he proffered his bill to the keeper of the meats counter for stamping, "is 'hockey'?" The meat-counter operative, though he hadn't been the one addressed, goggled nonetheless. "You don't know what hockey is?" he asked, incredulous. "I'm from out of town," said Saionji dryly. "I guess so," said the meats man. Once they'd all assembled their dinners and repaired to a table out in the mall's inner court, Kate tried to explain ice hockey. She'd already learned that such a game didn't exist in Cephiro; it was her second favorite sport after baseball, and when she'd watched it on TV a few times over the course of the winter, Utena had been as puzzled by it as Saionji was now. "I'm n-not really c-conveying it w-w-well," she said at length, feeling a bit frustrated. "The b-best thing w-would be for y-you to g-go to a g-game." "So let's," said Utena. "I've always wondered if there wasn't something I was missing, trying to figure it out on TV." Kate nodded. "Th-there is," she agreed. "B-but I d-d-don't think we'll b-be able to g-g-get t-tickets. The L-Leafs are the h-hottest t-t-ticket in t-town." She frowned thoughtfully, as if something was nagging at her memory. "Alth-though... " she said. "What about Dimitrios?" asked Utena. Kate snapped her fingers. "Y-yes!" she declared. "That's w-w-what I was t-t-trying to th-think of." "Dimitrios Arbuthnot," Utena explained to a puzzled-looking Miki. "He runs a club Kate's band played the last time we were in town. The upstairs room of the place is -full- of Maple Leafs stuff, he's a huge fan." She gave Kate a speculative look. "Figure he has season tickets?" "He m-might," Kate allowed. "I g-guess we c-c-could ask him." For some reason, the day's activities had put Kaitlyn in a slightly odd mood; with their post-prandial course of action decided, she spent the rest of the meal girlwatching, an activity for which the BCE Place courtyard, and indeed the City of Toronto as a whole, is a place admirably suited. Shortly, she'd involved Miki (with slight embarrassment) and Saionji (with faint amusement at Miki's embarrassment) as well. Utena supposed she could have countered by trying to interest Dorothy in a spot of guywatching, but such a scheme didn't seem likely to be profitable, so she didn't bother. (Well, actually, Kate was doing a bit of that too, but she wasn't commenting about that so much, since she figured in doing so she'd lose her collaborators.) Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She looked at the date window on her watch, smiled, and cleared her throat, breaking into the conversation. "Excuse me, everybody," she said, "but I want to propose a toast." Kate tore her attention away from the tall redhead waiting for the elevator, turned, and gave her roommate a curious look. So did everyone else (well, all right, Dorothy didn't look all that curious). Utena raised her water glass with a soft-eyed, sentimental smile, and said, "To Anthy Himemiya... may she be safe and well, and may we all see her again before this day comes again. Today is her birthday." Her fellow Cephireans and Kaitlyn all smiled that same slightly sad smile, all raised their glasses; Dorothy raised hers as well, her face unreadable. There was a tinkling round as the glasses tapped together and the others murmured, "To Anthy." Utena drained her water, put down the glass, and closed her eyes, smiling still, taking a moment with her thoughts. Happy birthday, Anthy, wherever you are. Good luck. Be careful. Keep fighting... ... I love you. The ring on her third right finger tingled briefly; she opened her eyes and glanced at it in surprise, but it had fallen silent again, and gleamed back uninformatively to her puzzled gaze. She shrugged, wiped her misty eyes on her napkin, and grinned across the table at Kaitlyn, who smiled, then tapped Miki on the shoulder and discreetly pointed out a gaggle of raver-style high- schoolers just entering the court from the far end. Utena snickered, shook her head in mock dismay, and returned her attention to her steak sandwich. "But certainly," said Dimitrios, his grin threatening to dislodge his handlebar mustache. "I don't myself - got to hang around this place most nights - but my brother-in-law does." Kate's face fell. "Oh. W-w-w-well, w-we d-d-d-don't w-want t-t-to b-b-b-both-ther - " Dimitrios gave a dismissive wave. "Bah!" he said. "He can stand to miss a game. Athena will be glad to stay home for a change on a Friday night. You wait right there." He went to the telephone behind the bar, picked it up, and dialed. "Theeny? It's Dimmy. Is Jack at home?" Miki turned to Utena and mouthed silently, "'Dimmy'?!" Utena shrugged. Dorothy looked around the room, about half-full of college students. Some of them had books out and were reading or working on homework along with their buffalo wings. No band tonight, so the empty stage was darkened and the PA system played recorded rock music, not too loud to talk over. The room was, as Utena had said, jammed with Toronto Maple Leafs paraphernalia - hockey sticks, posters, framed jerseys, signed photographs of players, ticket stubs, all manner of Leafs-related things covered the walls. A young man with sandy hair and a Toronto University sweatshirt slid onto the stool next to her while she was reading the fine print on a replica of the Stanley Cup which stood on a shelf behind the bar, surrounded by bottles of various types of booze. It took Dorothy a few moments to realize that he was staring at her. That struck her as rather odd, as did his choice of seat, since the bar was only about half-populated. She unzoomed her optics and turned her head to face him. "Yes?" she asked. "Hi," he said. "I'm Jeff." "Congratulations," Dorothy replied. He chuckled self-deprecatingly, running a hand over his rather bushy hair. "Don't be that way," he said. "Can I buy you a drink?" "No," said Dorothy. "I'm not staying long." "What a shame," said Jeff. "What's your name?" "Dorothy," she said, unencouragingly. Saionji, seated on the other side of the robot girl, noticed the little tableau playing out to his right and started paying attention. "Well, Dorothy," said Jeff pleasantly, "I think you're being just a bit too hasty to judge poor old Jeff. Why don't you come over to my table and we'll talk about it?" Dorothy regarded him unblinkingly for several seconds. "I don't think so," she said. Jeff frowned. "What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice a trifle plaintive. "Is it my breath? My haircut? Don't you like college guys? I could drop out," he offered with a wry grin. Saionji stood up and turned to face him, looming over the still-seated Dorothy in the process. Though probably three years younger than Jeff, Saionji was considerably taller, and outdid the university student in shoulder-breadth as well. "Get lost," he said. Jeff raised his hands in surrender, still smiling. "OK, OK," he said. "Sorry. Misread the situation. No need to get mad." He turned the smile on Dorothy for one last attempt: "See you around, Dorothy." "Unlikely," said Dorothy, turning back to her contemplation of the Stanley Cup. "Pushy bastard," Saionji muttered at Jeff's retreating back. He slid back into his seat. "What was -that- all about?" Utena wondered, having caught only Saionji's standing and sitting again. "Nothing," Saionji said. "Some idiot trying to pick up Dorothy." "I wanted to see how long he would persist in the face of total indifference," Dorothy observed, "but thank you all the same, Saionji." "OK," said Dimitrios, who was blissfully unaware of the entire incident, as he put down the phone and turned to face Kate again. "It's all set. He's going to bring his tickets for Friday's game over here in the morning. You can pick them up anytime. There's just one problem," he added with an apologetic look. "Now that his son's been born, he's only got two. Theeny doesn't let him go out with the boys like she used to anymore... " "Oh. W-well... " Kate turned to Utena. "W-why don't you and S-Saionji g-go? S-sending him to a g-g-game is the p-point of the ex-xercise, and y-you w-wanted to s-see one in p-person." "Tell you what," said Dimitrios. "Why don't the rest of you come here Friday night? I've got a pretty good band lined up first thing - a little too 'modern' for my tastes, if you know what I mean, but you might find them interesting. Call themselves 'The Crush of Love'." Kate brightened. "I've h-h-heard of th-th-them," she said. "L-l-lots of g-g-guit-t-tars, k-k-kind of ex-ex-exp-perim-m-ent-tal." Dimitrios waited patiently for her to struggle through the last word, then nodded. "That's them. Leader's a kid name of Joe, goes to the University. Nice kid." Kate turned to Miki. "S-sound g-good to y-you?" Miki nodded. "I'm always interested in new musical experiences," he said. "D-Dorothy?" "The crowd here is a little pushy," Dorothy deadpanned. "Don't worry about that," said Dimitrios. "Anybody gives you trouble, you come tell me and -I'll- give -him- trouble." Dorothy nodded. "Fair enough." "W-w-what d-d-do I o-o-o-owe y-you?" asked Kate, but Dimitrios made that expressive, dismissive wave again. "Jack can afford to give 'em away," he said. "More money than sense, that boy has." Kate blinked. "I h-h-have t-to g-g-give y-you s-s-s-SOMEth-thing... " she protested. "Well, I'll tell you what. You bring your band back here some weekend before school lets out and you all scatter for the summer, and we'll call it even. OK?" Kaitlyn turned to Miki, and for a moment the two highest officers of the WPI Student Orchestra conferred. The spring concert was on April 22, final rehearsals beginning on the 16th; the Art of Noise had another show at the WAG on the ninth... They worked backward, finally arriving at the optimum date of Saturday, March 26, three and a half weeks hence. "H-h-have to c-c-clear it w-w-with our m-m-m-manag-g-ger," said Kate, "b-b-b-but... " "Good enough," said Dimitrios. "If something comes up we'll reschedule. Like I told the pretty lady who sells your shirts," he added with a grin at Utena, "I wish I could have you in here every week." He bobbed his bushy eyebrows at Kate and continued, "Ever consider Toronto University after you graduate from the Institute?" Kate laughed and told him she'd think about it, and the fivesome took their leave. "Nice guy," Saionji grunted as they left Sneaky Dee's and started walking back down College toward their hotel. "Needs to screen his clientele a little better, though." "You overreacted," said Miki. "I mean, can you really blame him? Miss Dorothy -is- quite lovely." Everyone stopped walking and looked at him, even Dorothy, who looked as if she entirely did not know how to take that. "What?" he inquired innocently. Utena suddenly found herself awake. She didn't climb slowly through the layers of somnolence to a reluctant wakefulness, the way she usually did; on the other hand, neither did she jerk awake with a start, heart pounding, as after a bad dream. She was simply asleep one moment and wide awake the next. With a puzzled murble (somewhere between a murmur and a burble), she reached to the nightstand for her watch and looked at its luminous dial. 3:30 AM, almost on the dot. She got carefully out of bed, went to the bathroom, and got a drink of water. On her way back, she paused to look at the others. Dorothy was curled up in the other bed, looking even more perfectly composed than normal. In the moonlight coming through the half-open drapes, Utena could just make out the dark smudge of Kaitlyn's hair; other than that, she was invisible, snuggled into her side of the covers. /* Toshihiko Sabashi "Weep For" _Big-O: Original Sound Score_ */ Utena smiled and went to the window, struck by a sudden desire to look at the moon. She couldn't see it very well from that angle, so she got her robe, put it on over her pajamas, and quietly went out onto the balcony. "Tchaah!" she remarked under her breath as she stepped out onto the cold concrete with her bare feet. She pulled the sliding door to behind her, went to the railing, and looked up at the gleaming face of the nearly-full moon. It was really beautiful, white and gray with its craters and seas - much more interesting than Cephiro's rather plain silvery-blue satellite. She smiled. It wasn't really all that cold out tonight, and for some reason she felt like standing out here for a while, looking at the moon lording it over the towers of Toronto. She turned to see if she could see the moon's reflection in the mirrored face of the Carlyle Tower, and her heart nearly stopped. There was someone else on the balcony with her, a slim, white-clad, silver-haired, dark figure who stood leaning against the railing at the other side of the balcony, his arms folded across his chest. As she turned to face him, he looked up, and the moonlight fell across his face. For one terrifying instant, Utena thought she recognized him. She drew back, sucking cold air between her gritted teeth, hand reaching for the handle of the door. In the next instant, she realized she -did- recognize him; but her notion of who he had been at first was wrong. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to frighten you." She blinked at him. "What... what are you doing here?" she asked, her own voice hushed in response. "I wanted to talk to you," he replied. "The conditions were right, so I thought I would try it." She stood and stared at him for a few seconds; when she spoke again, her voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible. "Who are you?" He smiled and drew himself up from the railing to his full height. Gold buttons and a sky-blue gemstone glittered on his jacket; in the dim silver light, the scarlet lining of his short cape was almost black, but his green eyes and wavy argent hair nearly glowed. He swept himself into a deep and courtly bow, then straightened. "I apologize," he said. "All these times we've encountered each other, and I've never given you my name. It's Dios. Or at least it was... before I died." "Dios," said Utena softly. "Of course... " "Mm," said Dios with gentle sardony. "Dios, comma, Sword of. Dios, comma, Power of. It does get a bit redundant after a while." "How did... how did you get here?" "I've always been here," Dios replied. "You brought me with you." He smiled. "I must apologize again. Toward the end, I lost hope and assumed that you would fail. Forgive me." The wry edge came back to his smile as he continued, "By then, I'd become a trifle pessimistic." Utena blinked at him again, and as she did so realized that she could see the railing behind him - he was ever so slightly transparent. "You're... a ghost?" "More or less," Dios said, flipping a hand. "You see, I died some time ago - well, you've heard the story. I suppose you thought it was a metaphor for something? No, it's the literal truth. I'm dead. The Tournament you fought was for the right to inherit my spirit, with all that that entails. The sword, the power - revolutionize the world - all that. And, well, you did it. So now you carry me within you." Utena shook her head. "Why me?" "That's a complex question to ask a ghost," Dios replied. "Basically, it's because you're the right person for the job. I wasn't sure it would work - after all, you're not really built on the usual 'prince' planform, are you? - but it all worked out in the end. Well, almost." He sighed. "I wish I hadn't lived when I died." Utena gave him a puzzled look. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "Oh, the other me," Dios said, looking irritated - not at her, but in general. "The walking dead man. I died and my body kept going without me... and it appears that without me, my body is a complete bastard. Let me tell you, that's an unpleasant revelation. If you can at all avoid learning such things about yourself, do." "You're different," said Utena. "You didn't used to have a sense of humor, especially one this weird." "The circumstances were rather different. And I'm starting to take on aspects of your personality," Dios replied. "After all, I'm part of you now. The only reason I still retain some semblance of my old identity is because our fusion was interrupted." She looked skeptical. "So I'm schizo, standing out on the balcony talking to my other personality." "Sort of," Dios replied. "If it helps, you could think of yourself as possessed instead." "Oh, that's a big improvement." "At least I'm a benevolent ghost," said Dios, shrugging. "I don't throw things around the room, or make you do embarrassing things... " Utena laughed. "I can't believe this," she said. "I've cracked. On -vacation-. Why didn't you show up last week?" "You were busy last week. If you don't do well in your studies, how are we ever to complete our cycle of destiny? I didn't want to distract you." He gestured vaguely toward her. "Your 'Aunt' Bell's gift is the only reason I can speak to you this way at all." Utena glanced at the rose signet on her right ring finger. "The Seal?" she mused. Dios nodded. "It keeps my energies on a level where you can comprehend them. As time goes on, you'll need it less. You'll become more and more adept at calling on me, and I'll become more and more like you, until one day there's no distinction to be made any longer. I will be Utena. You will be Dios. We will be one." He smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. I've been much too busy since my death. Call me a traditionalist, but I think when a man dies, he ought to take it easy." Utena gave him a rather weak smile. "Uh... huh," she said. "There -is- one thing I hope I'm still here to see, of course. I'd like to see Anthy again, one last time. I'd like to see her smile." As he said it, he smiled himself, and his resemblance to his sister suddenly struck her. "And," he added with a twinkle in one emerald eye, "If I see her through your eyes, then smiling she almost certainly will be." "You think so, huh?" said Utena, her own smile getting a bit stronger. Dios leaned back against the rail again, folding his arms, and nodded, still smiling. "I know it." Utena looked down at the Seal again, then at the tiny scar on her other ring finger. "She has my ring," she said. "The one you gave me." "Indeed she does. And, I'm sure, treasures it, just as you did." "I wish I had something of hers," Utena went on. "You do," said Dios. "What?" Utena asked him. "You have me. The fact that I'm bound to you is the ultimate proof of my sister's worth to you. What other keepsake do you need in the face of that? You're her prince, after all. And you'll do a better job of it than I did, irregularities notwithstanding." A scudding cloud crossed the face of the moon, and as it did so, Dios dimmed, becoming almost completely transparent. "Wait!" said Utena, reaching for him. "You can't go now. I have so much I need to ask you." "Conditions," Dios replied, his voice faint, as if he were at the other end of a tunnel. The cloud passed, and with the return of the moonlight he returned as well. Shaking his head sadly, he went on, "The workings of magic always have conditions. It's pesky, but unavoidable. Don't worry. You'll see me again." He gave her a wry grin. "Who else have I got to talk to?" He levered himself away from the rail again and glanced up at the moon. Utena looked with him, and they both saw a larger cloud sliding toward the silvery disk. "For now, though, it looks like this is goodnight," said Dios. He bowed to her again. "Brave heart, Utena," he said, smiling. "I am always with you. I -am- you." She smiled, feeling a tear escape her eye, and took a step toward him. He took her in his arms, and she could feel him, the strength and warmth of him, smell the scent of roses, just as if he were really there, just as it had been when she was a child. "I'll see you again, soon," Dios murmured. His lips brushed her cheek, kissing away the single tear; then the cloud crossed the moon, and he was gone. Utena suddenly found herself awake. She didn't climb slowly through the layers of somnolence to a reluctant wakefulness, the way she usually did; on the other hand, neither did she jerk awake with a start, heart pounding, as after a bad dream. She was simply asleep one moment and wide awake the next. She sat up and looked around the room, wide-eyed and confused. Kaitlyn was still asleep beside her, all but invisible in the covers. Dorothy faced the other way now, lying eerily still. The slash of moonlight across the floor was at a slightly different angle. Her robe was still hanging on the back of the chair. She picked up her watch and looked at it. 3:48 AM. Did that really happen, or was it just the weirdest in a series of weird dreams? Her feet were cold... "Dios?" she said softly. "Hmm," said Kaitlyn, with the sublime indifference of the fully unconscious. Dorothy evinced no reaction at all. Utena looked at her Seal. Then she shook her head, burrowed down into the covers next to Kate, and went back to sleep. In the morning, she told Kate about her dream, if it had been a dream. Kate pondered it while she brushed her teeth and showered, but came to no useful conclusions by the time that was done. She emerged mostly dressed but shirtless, brushed her hair, then donned one of the shirts she'd bought at the Science Centre, a black one decorated with a nice color rendition of the Periodic Table of the Elements, all the while still thinking. Then she turned to Utena, who sat cross-legged on the end of the bed watching TV, and said, "N-no idea." Utena laughed and tossed her the remote control. "I figured," she said. "I don't either. I guess I'll just wait and see if he comes back." "S-something l-l-like that hap-p-pened to D-Dad once," Kate mused while Utena brushed her teeth. "Really?" asked Utena after spitting out a mouthful of foam. "How'd -that- happen?" "I d-dunno, exactly," Kate replied. "It h-happened before I w-was b-b-born. He w-was sort-of-s-s-semi-p-possessed by the sp-spirit of a t-twentieth-cent-tury adv-venturer named K-Kent Allard." "Weird," said Utena. She paused briefly to gargle, spat again, and asked, "So what happened?" "Aunt B-Bell and her s-sisters sep-separated them d-during the R-Ragnar-r-rok," said Kate. "Allard's in V-Valhalla now." "Huh. Well, I don't want -that- to happen," Utena mused, "and I don't think it'd be Dios's first choice either." "Mm," Kate agreed, nodding. She went to sprawl out on the bed and surf channels while Utena showered, still pondering. "What's on the menu for today?" asked Utena as she emerged, scrubbing at her hair with one of the fat, fluffy hotel towels. "Q-Queen Street," Kate replied, switching off the TV. "B-bookstores, c-c-cafes, c-clothes... " She shrugged. "W-whatever takes our f-fancy." She grinned at Dorothy, who sat on the couch reading the book she'd bought at the Science Centre. "If w-we're going c-clubbing, we'll n-need app-p-propriate c-clothes." Dorothy marked her place, put the book down, and favored this notion with a little smile and an, "Indeed." Queen Street was everything Kaitlyn had billed it as, and more. For most of the day, they went from one little shop to another, browsing through entire bookstores devoted to single genres (mystery, science fiction, history, alien-language poetry, the occult), secondhand clothieries, oddball jewelry stores, music stores, used record shops. While Utena and Saionji prowled the racks at Galactic Core Second-Hand Records ("We Accrete the Best Debris"), the others spent an entertaining hour or so in one of the used-clothes stores. When they emerged, Kaitlyn was still giggling, Dorothy looked mildly amused, and Miki looked faintly embarrassed. "Y-y-you'll see" was all the explanation Kate would give to Utena's puzzled expression. Nightfall came, and, tired and happy from their day's foraging, the group returned to the Imperial to rest before the big-ticket event on the evening's agenda. "What do you -wear- to a symphony concert?" Utena wondered as she surveyed the rather slim selection of clothes in her suitcase. "I wish you'd told me ahead of time we were going to this... " "I d-did, but you w-w-weren't p-paying att-tention. I d-don't suppose you o-OWN a n-nice dress." Utena gave her a look. "D-didn't th-think so. You c-could get the c-concierge to r-rent you a t-tux. That'd g-get you a w-weird look, but it'd b-brighten h-HIS day, I'm s-s-sure." "Hrmph," said Utena. "Don't tempt me." "I think a tuxedo would become you," said Dorothy. "You have a way of making men's fashions look as if -men- are simply dressing in imitation of -you-." Kate gave Dorothy an impressed look. "That's g-good," she said. "I l-l-like that." She took her garment bag out of the closet and hung it on the inside of the bathroom door, then leaned back out and said, "If you d-don't want to d-do that, your old unif-form j-jacket looks n-nice and f-formal with your winter p-pants. Esp-specially with the b-bits for d-dueling." "I can't exactly get those whenever I want," Utena said. "C-can't you?" asked Kate with a smile; then she went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Utena regarded the closed door for a moment, looked at her Seal, then turned to Dorothy and said, "You know, she might have a point." "If you say so," said Dorothy, who had no idea what Utena and Kate had been talking about. Thoughtfully, Utena dressed as Kate had suggested, in the black jacket of her old Ohtori Academy uniform and the charcoal pants of her winterweight WPI uniform. Then she stood in front of the mirrored closet doors, regarded herself, and concentrated. For a moment nothing happened, and she just felt stupid. But just as she was about to give up, she felt something stir, deep inside her. It felt a bit like she'd felt on her way up the dueling platform for one of her dates with destiny, and a bit like the sorcerous working that surrounded her when her blood had activated the runesword Corwin Ravenhair had forged for her. A spark, a warmth, a peculiar but not unpleasant glowing feeling, somewhere down in the core of her being, in back of and a bit below her heart. A bit of poetry in an alien tongue flickered through her mind; she wondered at its meaning, and in that moment she was transformed. With a shimmering sound and a cascade of golden sparks, her uniform changed, acquiring the cuffs, epaulets, petticoat and chain of a Duelist of the Rose. Dorothy cocked an eyebrow. "Remarkable," she said. Utena turned to her, grinning. "Well, I'll be damned," she said. "Never did that on purpose before. I always thought it was something Himemiya was doing." She regarded the Seal again for a moment, kissed it, and then twirled around in front of the mirror, admiring herself. Not half-bad. A little odd, but not half-bad. The epaulets and chain really gave the old Ohtori black that little something extra. Dorothy changed from her street clothes into the somber black dress she'd been wearing the first time Utena had ever seen her; with her black stockings and the white ruffle on the front, it made her look a bit like a maid, but Utena tactfully kept that opinion to herself and went to answer the knock at the door. "How are - " Kyouichi Saionji began, and then he and Utena caught sight of each other and simultaneously took half-steps back, saying together, "Whoa." "Look at -you-," said Utena, who recovered first. "Captain Formal! And Miki, too, my goodness. You look like groomsmen at somebody's wedding." And so they did, for both men were wearing black tuxedoes, complete with white tab-collar shirts, pearl-gray waistcoats, mirror-shined shoes, and swallow-tailed, notch-fronted jackets. Saionji's wavy hair was brushed almost glossy, and Miki had taken extra care combing his usually disorderly Ringo Starr cut into something resembling a part. They wore roses in their jacket pockets, Saionji's green, Miki's blue. "Where'd you find the roses?" "The hotel has a florist," said Miki. He handed her a white one. "I thought you might need this." Utena smiled and tucked it into her top pocket. "Last time you gave me a flower, it ruined my whole day," she said. "Not this time," Miki replied. "Promise." He looked around. "Where's Kaitlyn?" "Still getting ready," said Utena with a sardonic grin. "Typical female." "I h-hear you," Kate's voice sounded warningly through the bathroom door. "I like your dress, Miss Dorothy," said Miki as he handed her a yellow rose. "Thank you," Dorothy replied - and was it Utena's imagination, or did the compliment (or possibly the flower) raise just a hint of color in her cheeks? "(I think it makes her look like a maid,)" Saionji murmured, and Utena stepped on his foot. "(Ow! Watch the shoes, they're rented.)" "(Try to have a little tact,)" Utena grumbled. "(I didn't say it looked -bad-,)" Saionji replied. The bathroom door opened, and the four turned to face it, various comments coming to their lips, only to die there. At her first sight of Kaitlyn, pretty but nondescript in a too-big school sweatshirt and gray jeans, Utena had speculated that the brown-haired girl could probably, with a bit of effort, turn herself into a bit of a head-turner. Now it was plain to see that she had been correct. Kate had made herself up just the slightest bit, adding a hint of color to her cheeks, eyelids, and lips. Her brown hair was drawn back and up a little into a simple but effective ponytail, and she wore silver earrings in the shape of teardrops. She was dressed in a floor-length sheath dress made of what looked to be black silk, slit up the right side almost to her hip and trimmed in orange, and a close-fitting jacket in the same colors over it. The jacket had short sleeves, and three golden Chinese-style looped buttons held it together in front. Roll-cuffed black silk gloves (so thin she could still wear her Duelist's ring over them) and low shoes completed the picture. "... Wow," said Utena. "Where did you get that dress?" "Aunt B-Bell m-made it," Kate replied, a little more color coming to her cheeks as she noted the expressions on the faces of Saionji and Miki as they witnessed her transformation. "It's f-for the S-Spring C-C-Concert." "My -goodness-," Saionji observed. "Perhaps I should reconsider not having declared suit." Kate gave him a mock glare. "D-don't you s-s-s-start," she said warningly. "Uh... you -do- look... quite... um... here," said Miki, and he handed her an orange rose. "Th-thank you, M-Miki," she said. "L-lucky color," she added, and tucked it carefully into her hair above her right ear. "I -have- to have a picture of this," said Utena. "I've taken care of that already," said Dorothy. "Sh-shall we?" Kate asked as she took her black school cloak from the coatrack and draped it around her shoulders, then collected her walking stick from the corner. The Toronto Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of Cassandra Moriarty, put on a fine program of Russian music that night, with selections by Tchaikovskiy, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Sverdlovskiy, and Trozikhyn. One of Shostakovich's Folk Dances got jammed inextricably in the gearing within Utena's head and would not come out, leaving her with no choice but to hum it over and over again all the way back to the hotel. This would have annoyed her companions, except that they'd all enjoyed that bit too, and didn't mind hearing it repeated. Kaitlyn did have to threaten her with injury if she kept humming it while they were trying to go to sleep, though. Wednesday was occupied entirely by a visit to the Royal Ontario Museum, which is a remarkable and fascinating place, but doesn't translate well to third-hand description. Thursday was an open day; in the morning, after dressing, they gathered around 2716's little table again with the heap of guidebooks and some brochures gathered from the lobby. "How about Canada's Wonderland?" Miki suggested, tossing a brochure atop the heap. "I haven't been to an amusement park since I was a little boy." Utena peered at it, then shook her head. "Amusement parks... aren't my thing," she said. "You guys can go if you want to, and I'll just hang out here and read or something." "Are you sure?" asked Miki. "I wouldn't want to leave you alone with nothing to do all day just because I - " "Nah, it's OK," she assured him. "I just don't like the places, that's all. No reason why you guys shouldn't go and have a good time." "I'll stay too," Dorothy said. "I'm too heavy for most of the rides." "W-well," said Kate, dubious, "if y-you guys are r-r-really sure you d-don't mind b-being left... " "No, really," Utena urged. "Go on, have fun. I might go back to the Royal Ontario... there's a whole wing we didn't get to yesterday." "That sounds good," said Dorothy. "If you don't mind, I'll go with you." "OK," agreed Utena. "Sounds like a plan. OK with you three?" "If you're really sure," said Miki. "Will you stop worrying? So I'm an old stick-in-the-mud who doesn't like roller coasters. That's not -your- fault." She got up, tugged him up by the shoulders, and propelled him toward the door. "Now get going. You too, Kate. C'mon, Saionji. You're gonna have fun if I have to break your arms." "No need for -that-, I'm sure," Saionji observed dryly as he followed Miki into the hall. Kate paused, gathering up her cloak and walking stick, and turned to Utena with a question in her eyes. "(I'm fine,)" Utena assured her one more time in a murmur. Kate looked back at her for a moment, then nodded and went with the boys. "Phew," said Utena as the door closed. "I thought they'd never leave." "Why don't you like amusement parks?" Dorothy asked suddenly as the pair of them walked down Bloor Street toward the Royal Ontario Museum. "Hm?" asked Utena, jolted out of a reverie by the robot's abrupt question. "Oh, uh... I had a... bad experience at one once. Long time ago. I suppose it's kind of silly of me to hold it against the park itself, really, but... " She shrugged. "I don't really want to talk about it, if it's all the same to you." Dorothy nodded equably. "Memory associations can be very tangled things," she said. "I have a similar aversion to vocal jazz." Utena gave her a slightly odd look at that, but said nothing. /* Toshihiko Sabashi "Apologize" _Big-O: Original Sound Score_ */ She was in a strange mood today, not really depressed, but feeling rather as if she -could- be, if the wrong stimulus came along at the wrong time. It was a rather bleak, gray day, not rainy but looking and feeling like it might, with a chilly wind that cut across the streets and made the tails of her overcoat flap. She didn't grudge the others their fun - she'd encouraged them to go seek it sincerely enough - but she wished they hadn't had to leave her alone with her thoughts on a day like this, all the same. Well, that wasn't really fair, she supposed. She had Dorothy with her, and there was something reassuring about the robot girl's presence, silent or not. In fact, her silence was part of what made her so easy to have around. She wouldn't talk unless she had something to say or ask, and she didn't ask very many questions. She didn't take offense if she was told, "I don't really want to talk about it." On days like this, Utena found that to be a very valuable trait. She looked sideways at her reflection in the windows of the Chapters bookstore at the corner of Bay and Bloor, and sighed. Dorothy reminded her of Corwin, and for some strange reason, Utena really wished Corwin were here right now. She didn't want to tell him what was bothering her; she just wanted to have him nearby, as though she felt his presence would dispel the gray, gloomy feeling that was settling around her like fog. She felt as if she were running down inside, like a spring within her somewhere hadn't been wound up. At the museum, Utena and Dorothy drifted apart. Having wandered the halls by herself for half an hour or so, Utena realized after reading the same exhibit card three times that she was even more distracted than she thought. She sighed and looked up at the actual item she was standing in front of. It was a display case full of, of all things, swords. In the gleaming blade of a falchion she could see her own reflection, looking glumly back at her, slightly distorted by the shape of the metal. There was something so oddly poetic about being reflected back on herself by the blade of a sword that she had to smile, and as she did, her reflection flickered for a moment, becoming the smiling wink of someone else entirely. She blinked, shaking her head. That was going to take some getting used to. Utena re-read the card, actually read it this time, and then finished the rest of the part of the museum she'd missed the day before in considerably improved spirits - the bleak mood dispelled almost as mysteriously as it had come. When they met up again in the lobby of the museum, Dorothy expressed an interest in a pottery-making exhibition that was starting in ten minutes in one of the galleries, so Utena walked back to the hotel by herself. No one else was back yet - not surprising, as it was only three in the afternoon - so she kicked back with the old SF book Kate had recommended to her in one of the old bookshops on Queen Street. It was an eerily prescient tale of a future policed by telepathic cops, and Utena was starting to feel a little creeped out by it when the telephone rang. That struck her as rather odd - who would call them up here? - but she picked up the phone anyway, figuring it might be one of the expeditioners checking to see if she or Dorothy were back from the museum yet. "Hello?" she inquired. "Hi," said a familiar voice. "Utena? It's, uh... it's Corwin. How are you?" Utena smiled. "Fine," she said. "I'm great. I was just thinking about you a little while ago." "Really?" Her smile widened a little bit; she could almost -hear- him blushing. "Um... thanks. Listen... I was just calling 'cause I was talking to Mom about next week, and she doesn't think it'd be such a good idea for me to teach you to drive there in Worcester." Her face fell. "Aw," she said. "Shoot. I was looking forward to - " "So," said Corwin, "how'd you like to come here instead?" "Here? Where's here? New Avalon?" "No - Mom's place, on Tomodachi." "Are you sure she wants me hanging around for a week? I mean, it was one thing staying at your dad's place, I'm Kate's roommate, but... " "Yeah, it's no problem - she thinks - well, let me... here," Corwin replied, and there was a bit of a rustling sound. "Utena?" said another voice. "Still there?" "Uh, hi... " Utena paused as she suddenly realized that, though the woman had been around for several -days- back during Christmas break, Utena had never learned how to address Corwin's mother. "... Mrs. Ravenhair," she went on, a bit lamely, as she realized just as she was saying it that Skuld wasn't married. Skuld laughed. "Just 'Skuld' is fine," she said. "'Mrs. Ravenhair' makes me feel like you're talking to somebody's mother." "Um, I -am-," said Utena. This drew another, longer laugh from the Norn of Tomorrow. "Touche," she said. "Call me Skuld anyway. Listen, I think it's fine if Corwin shows you how to drive and all - I just think Worcester's a bad place to do it. If anything goes wrong, it'd help if -someone- in the car was at least a part-time resident of the -planet- you're on, y'know?" "... Yeah, that makes sense," said Utena, who hadn't thought of that. "Let's see... you've never been to Tomodachi before, have you?" "No, ma'am." "Oh, All-Father, -stop- that," said Skuld in a tone of amused exasperation. "Anyway, Tomodachi's a Japanese colony, but you can get by just fine with Standard, and the roads are a lot saner than in Worcester. I'd be happy to put you up - I have a perfectly serviceable sofa I can exile Corwin to - or you could stay with my sister and her brood if you don't mind that pre-teen street gang dynamic. Then again, you stayed at Gryphon's for two weeks, so I can't imagine that bothers you." "I can't imagine Aunt Bell's kids acting like a street gang," said Utena, laughing. "You'd be surprised. Fatora's quite a little thug sometimes. Anyway, if you'd rather stay here, we can always turn the Prophesied One out of his bunk." "The what?" "Oh, sorry - old family joke. When Corwin was born, my sister Urd claimed that he was the fulfilment of some ancient prophecy or another. Even Bell doesn't have any idea what she was talking about, and Urd claims she doesn't remember saying it. We figure it was another one of her weird little jokes. She'd been hitting the sake pretty hard that day - more nervous than -I- was." "Oh," said Utena, who was still trying to get used to the fact that her friend's mother was a bona fide Norse goddess. "Anyway, if you want to come, we'd love to have you," Skuld told her. "My brother-in-law can show you a few things too - he used to be the prime driver for the Nekomi Tech Motor Club back in his student days, and nowadays he's their faculty advisor." "Thanks," said Utena. "That'd be great." "Super. Work out the details with Corwin and we'll make ready on this end," Skuld said. "Until then, enjoy the rest of your road trip!" "Thanks, I will! Bye!" That same shuffling noise sounded again, and Corwin was back on the line: "So what do you think?" "Sounds like a plan to me," Utena told him. "We should be back in Worcester late Sunday night, so I guess I'll see you Monday?" "I could come to Toronto on Sunday." "Thanks, but I wouldn't want to miss the ride back - the drive itself is half the fun on a road trip, y'know?" He chuckled. "Yeah, I hear you," he said. "OK, then. I'll be there noonish on Monday." "Cool. It's a date," she said. The lock on the door clicked and rattled, and then Dorothy came in. "Hold on - Dorothy just got back. You want to talk to her?" "Sure," said Corwin. "Take it easy, Utena. See you Monday!" "'Til then," Utena said brightly; then she offered the phone to Dorothy, explaining to her puzzled look, "It's Corwin." "Ah," said Dorothy. She accepted the phone. "Hello," she said into it. "Fine. All systems nominal. Oh, yes, quite well. I've had a most enjoyable time." She gave him a recap of the week so far, and told him about her plans to go to Sneaky Dee's with Kate and Miki the following night, while Utena and Saionji took in a hockey game. "Pardon? No, I'm sure it's nothing like that. Of course. What do I have to worry about? They may try, but I'm doubtful that a mere human would have the strength. Yes. All right. I'll be careful. Yes, of course I'll look out for Kaitlyn. So will Miki. You don't think either of us would allow - yes. All right." A pause while Corwin said something fairly long-winded; Dorothy smiled slightly. "Yes. I'm having a lot of fun. My dreams have been most interesting as well. I'll tell you about them the next time I see you. Oh - please tell Aunt Belldandy that Kaitlyn's formal dress was quite successful. What? To the Symphony last night. Yes. He nearly swallowed his tongue. Yes, you would have enjoyed it quite a bit." Utena giggled, knowing full well what -that- part was about. "Very well. Yes, Corwin, I am genuinely enjoying myself. Really. Really really. This is a childish verbal game. Yes. All right. Goodbye, Corwin." She turned and handed the phone back to Utena; she checked it, but the line was dead. Smiling, she put it back. "He's fussing?" she asked. "He's fussing," Dorothy confirmed. "He must be repeatedly assured that I'm not simply telling him I'm enjoying my vacation because he hopes I am." "Well, at least he's not right," said Utena. "There was a time when he would have been." "I know," said Dorothy. She sat down on the couch and gazed at Utena with her dark, dark eyes for a moment before continuing, "I owe this change, in large part, directly and indirectly as well, to you. Thank you." Utena smiled and bowed her head graciously. "My pleasure, Dorothy," she said. At around seven-thirty, the amusement-park contingent returned, laughing and boisterous, to find Utena stretched out on her bed watching TV and Dorothy sitting on the couch reading. "About time you got back," said Utena. "I was about to give up on you and order dinner for myself." In lieu of that, the lot of them selected a random (well, semi-random) restaurant out of one of the guidebooks and went to have themselves some good steaks. Kate, on the way to the subway, gave Utena one of her concerned looks, but Utena waved it off. "Relax," she said. "I was in a little funk, but I snapped right out of it. Corwin called." "Oh? W-what's h-he up t-t-to?" "His mom didn't think it would be a good idea for him to teach me to drive in Worcester, so she invited me to Tomodachi next week to learn there instead." "Ah. A-are you g-going?" "Yeah, I think so - if you can do without me for a week," Utena added with a grin. Kate weighed this seriously - grin or no grin, the wry remark contained as its kernel a serious question - then nodded. "I'll m-manage," she said. "I'll be p-pretty b-busy next w-w-week anyw-way... the IRc-c-CAM symp-posium starts on th-the f-f-fourt-teenth." "Oh yeah," said Utena, nodding. "Your big trip to Paris." "I wish we could both go to that," said Miki, dropping back a little from Dorothy and Saionji to join in. "It sounds very interesting." "Oh, i-it is," said Kate. "I w-went last year, t-too. T-tell you w-what... n-next year, if th-they inv-vite someone from d-d-WPI, I'll l-let you g-go ins-stead of m-m-me." "Well, I wouldn't want -that-," said Miki. "I'm only your deputy, it wouldn't be right for me to take the opportunity away from you." "I'd r-rather we b-both went t-too," Kate replied, "b-but P-Professor Hard-dinge wouldn't l-like it if b-b-both student d-directors disappeared for a w-w-week. Still, I-I'll have g-gone twice. It's o-only f-f-fair to l-let you t-take it n-next time." "You do get to take somebody with you, right?" asked Utena. She cocked an eyebrow, slightly distracted, as she noticed that, a few paces ahead of them, Dorothy and Saionji were having a conversation. She couldn't guess what about, but Dorothy seemed to be describing what, judging by her hand gestures, had been quite a large explosion. "W-well," said Kaitlyn, "t-technic-cally. IRCAM offers each d-delegate t-travel and acc-commod-dations for o-one guest, and a t-ticket to the c-closing c-c-concert. B-but everyb-body I kn-know has c-classes th-that week. I'll h-have to s-scramble just to c-catch up when I g-get back." "That's not true this year, though," Miki observed. "I don't think Miss Juri is enrolling for any classes, and she might like to see more of this world." Utena gave him a skeptical look. "Juri, go on a trip to a foreign city with someone she barely knows? No offense, Kate, I know you're bowling buddies and all, but you're practically a stranger to Juri, and she doesn't hang out with her -friends-, let alone strangers. I won't say she's hard to be friends with, Miki, but I had an easier time getting to know -Himemiya-, y'know." "You and Miss Juri have always had a... somewhat adversarial relationship, Utena," Miki pointed out as tactfully as possible. "Not that it's really your fault or hers, but... " He shrugged. "I think if it were put to her correctly, she might consider it. If nothing else, it would give her some time by herself, to think and reflect, not surrounded by the rest of us from the Academy and the bustle of the Institute and so forth. That is," he added with a deferent glance at Kate, "if you wouldn't mind having her along." Kate's cheeks went ever so faintly pink as she replied, "Um, n-no... I d-d-don't think I'd m-mind that m-m-much." Friday morning, in anticipation of a late night, they slept in, finally arising at a little after noon to shower, dress, and go in search of lunch. They spent the afternoon reading and watching television, conserving their energies for the evening to come. Finally, at around six, Kaitlyn declared that it was time for them all to get ready for their evenings. In Utena and Saionji's cases this consisted mainly of making sure they had their tickets and knew how to get to the Toronto Ice Arena. Given that the Arena's domed roof could be seen from Room 2715, that part wasn't very challenging. For the others, the preparation cycle was a little more involved. Miki found himself dragged helplessly into 2716, no more able to resist Dorothy Wayneright's summons than he would've been able to resist being hit by a car, while Utena was summarily ejected into the hall by Kaitlyn "s-so you d-d-don't s-spoil the surp-prise." Utena stood in the hall next to the door of 2715, leaning back against the wall with one knee bent and her hands in her pockets. Saionji stood on the other side of the door, having unconsciously adopted a similar pose. She glanced across at him and giggled; all he needed was a trench coat and a cigarette and he'd be a film-noir detective under a streetlamp, waiting for something to happen. "Something funny, Tenjou?" he inquired, cocking an eyebrow. "Not really," Utena replied, not caring to try and convey her impression. "I wonder what they're doing to poor Miki in there." "Well, I don't hear any thumping, banging or screaming," Saionji observed, "so it can't be -too- terrible." He smiled. "Not that I expect he would object too strenuously to anything either of those girls did to him." Utena chuckled. "I dunno about that. I mean, I know he's been seeing Azalynn and all, but I think he'd still be too shocked to breathe if -Kate- came on to him." "It would be a bit out of character," Saionji allowed. A muffled exclamation came through the closed door. Utena and Saionji glanced at each other, but both declined to comment on it directly. "I wonder if Dorothy's even -interested- in that kind of thing," mused Utena thoughtfully, tapping a fingertip against her chin. "I don't know," said Saionji. "I imagine she'd tell you if you asked her." Utena went a little pink. "That'd be a bit weird, don't you think?" "Perhaps," Saionji replied. The door to 2716 opened then, and Dorothy told them, "You can come in now. Kaitlyn has almost finished." Utena and Saionji remained where they were, staring, albeit for somewhat different reasons. Utena was, after all, merely -flabbergasted- by the bizarre getup Dorothy was wearing. When not wearing her school uniform, R. Dorothy tended toward somber colors and styles anyway; her favorite dress was the black one with the white ruffle that Saionji thought made her look like a maid, and her others were mainly in dark shades of blue or bottle green. She had one black-trimmed red dress which she saved for special occasions; she'd been wearing it on New Year's Eve, Utena remembered. Now everything she wore was black, but it was all so -weird- that the observers could only gape in amazement. The foundation of the outfit seemed to be a black front-laced -corset-, of all things, combined with a number of voluminous black silk petticoats, a black lace skirt, and a vestigial-sleeved, half-length black velvet jacket to form an odd sort of dress. Her legs, visible from about the knee down, were clad in rather tattered black lace stockings and dilapidated-looking combat boots. She had on black silk gloves that came to above her elbows, and a black ribbon encircled her slender throat, fronted by a small, round, pearly bauble. Kaitlyn's silver-teardrop earrings hung from her ears. The overwhelming blackness of the outfit, and the fact that it revealed rather more of her than her normal black dress (which covered all but her hands and face), threw the almost ethereal whiteness of her skin into vivid contrast. It was further heightened by the fact that she'd applied a bit of makeup to her face, enhancing the ever- present shadows under her eyes and blackening her eyelids and lips. Her coal-black eyes made for a contrast within a contrast as she regarded them with an air of faintly amused ennui. "Well?" she inquired. "-What-," Utena asked as she recovered her ability to speak, "is -that-?" Dorothy blinked impassively at her. "When we were shopping on Queen Street," she said, "Kaitlyn decided it would be amusing if we assumed a Gothic look for the evening's festivities." Dorothy glanced down at her attire, then added with a trace of a smile, "She claims I have a flair for the style." "You look like a nineteenth-century streetwalker." "I believe," said Dorothy blandly, "that's the general idea." Utena pried Saionji away from the wall and guided him into Room 2716, where he sat down on the end of the bed and continued to gaze in blank amazement at the transformed Dorothy. "(C'mon, snap out of it,)" Utena muttered out of the side of her mouth as she sat down next to him. "(Have I got to slap you?)" Saionji blinked and seemed to shake himself. "(Sorry,)" he said. "(I was just... taken aback, that's all.)" The bathroom door opened a moment later and Kaitlyn emerged, giggling profusely. She, too, was dressed outlandishly, in a black velvet dress with slightly puffed sleeves, a slightly daring laced bodice, and a rustly skirt that reached the floor, fingerless black lace gloves (fingernails filed and painted black), and an assemblage of absurdly ornate costume jewelry. She'd powdered her face slightly and then made herself up similarly to Dorothy, and she wasn't wearing her glasses, which made for a somewhat startling change in her face in and of itself. Her hair was brushed back, its slight natural curl subdued by some chemical preparation, and temp-dyed into vivid streaks of scarlet and ebony. The overall effect was funereal, yet slightly wild and faintly eldritch at the same time. It struck Utena, who felt she ought to be in a position to know, that Kate looked a bit of a witch. Or at least she would have if she hadn't been caught up in all that rather unseemly giggling. "O-k-k-K, Miki," she said when she'd recovered some control of herself. "You c-can come out n-now." "No," said Miki Kaoru's voice from the bathroom. "Oh, c-c'mon," said Kate, her tone somewhere between cajoling and wheedling. "You l-look g-great. Utena and S-Saionji are w-w-waiting." "Saionji's out there? Then I'm -definitely- not coming out." "D-don't make me s-s-send Dorothy," said Kate, adopting a degree of mock severity. "Oh... all right... " said Miki in a long-suffering voice, and he emerged, slowly and with a look of pained resignation, from the bathroom. As one, Utena and Saionji sat up a little bit straighter, blinked, blinked again, and stared in slack-jawed silence. Miki was almost unrecognizable. Had either of them met him on the street in his current incarnation, they probably wouldn't have known him. His blue hair, normally arranged in a slightly disordered, slightly overgrown Beatles bowl-with-sideburns, had been trimmed a bit, stiffened, and combed up into a dangerous-looking hedge of disorderly spikes, dimmed and streaked with black dye. His face, never exactly ruddy, had been made paler still by powder base, over which an artful hand had drawn eye shadows that harkened back to ancient Egyptian paintings. With the black lipstick and the slight exaggeration of the hollows of his cheeks, he had almost the look of a tragedy mask. The transformation in his face was such that, for a moment, it stole the viewers' attention from the rest of him, but that was worth a look too. Somehow the two girls had caused him to wear a black velvet smoking jacket over a white ruffle-front shirt with absurdly big cuffs - an -unbuttoned- white ruffle-front shirt, no less, baring his slim, slightly defined chest and abdomen nearly to the navel - and outlandishly tight black velvet trousers. On his feet he wore black and white saddle shoes, not unlike Utena's own, with black laces instead of red. Costume rings like Kaitlyn's glittered on most of his fingers - his Duelist's ring looked almost out of place among the faux-gem opulence of its neighbors. Several strings of black mock pearls hung down his bared chest, one of them sporting a jeweled silver ankh. In the face of this astonishing creature, Utena Tenjou and Kyouichi Saionji did the only thing it was possible for reasonable, rational human beings to do: They burst out laughing, almost convulsed with amusement, falling into each other's arms and howling with laughter until the tears flowed in unbroken streams down their steadily reddening faces. Under the pancake makeup, Miki flushed, though it was hard to tell except by the sudden glow of his ears. "Oh, fine," he said over their wails of hilarity. "It's all very well for you to laugh." He gestured with one indignant hand; the room's lights caught and glittered against the deep glossy coat of blood-red polish on his neatly filed nails, causing the laughers to renew their efforts. Presently, as Miki stood with his hands on his velvet-clad hips and glared, Utena disengaged herself from Saionji. Bereft of his support, the green-haired young man tumbled onto the floor and lay there, clutching at his sides and chortling, as Utena wiped at her eyes and struggled to say, "I'm sorry, Miki... it's just... that's so -precious-. The -pants-... and the -shirt-... and the -makeup-... and that -jacket-... it's too -much-... " Unable to go on, she toppled onto her side on the bed and pounded at the mattress with one fist. Miki folded his arms across his ankh-bedecked chest and scowled. "I knew this was going to happen," he said. "Oh, c-c'mon, Miki," said Kate. "They're n-not laughing -at- y-you... " "Yes they are," said Dorothy. After a few more moments, Saionji's arm appeared by the side of the bed; he grabbed hold of a fistful of the coverlet, hauled himself up, and managed to climb back to a sitting position. Utena sat up as well, still shuddering with occasional aftershocks but mainly in control again. "I really am sorry, Mr. Kaoru," said Saionji with exaggerated formality; then he went on in a more natural tone, "Actually, you don't look bad, for the genre. It just came as such a surprise... " "Mm-hmm," said Utena, nodding. "You actually look really good, for a Goth." She grinned. "So is that gonna be your stage outfit when you join the Art of Noise?" "Um... I think not," said Miki. "Aww," said Utena, pouting. "You'd be a big hit, I bet. Women throwing their underwear at you and everything." Saionji fell off the bed again. "Why would I want that?" Miki inquired, ears darkening again. Utena shook her head and smiled indulgently. "Dantrovian in training and still the perfect innocent." She got up and put a hand on his shoulder, grinning once more. "That's so cute. I'd kiss you, but I don't want that stuff all over -my- face." "N-now that you've s-s-seen it," said Kate, "you g-guys ought to g-g-get g-going. G-game time's s-seven-th-thirty." Utena observed her watch. "Mm, yeah, you're right. OK, have a good time, you guys, and be careful! You're gonna have people all over you, all three of you." "D-don't w-worry, Mom," said Kate with a smile. "W-we'll be on our g-g-guard. H-have f-fun at the g-game." "C'mon, Saionji, on your feet." "Miki?" asked Dorothy as she, Kate and Miki walked the few blocks down College to the corner with Bathurst and Sneaky Dee's. "Yes?" said Miki. "-Are- you a Dantrovian in training?" Miki blinked as though the question had taken him by surprise, and considered the answer for a moment. "I guess I am, sort of," he said. "I'm not really a convert, because I never really had a religion to convert from... but the animist aspects of Azalynn's faith have intrigued me to the point where I've asked her to teach me about it, beyond simple involvement in a few observances. I suppose that does make me some sort of... apprentice." He gave her a curious look. "Why?" "No reason," she replied. "Curiosity. It's obvious that you're involved with her; I simply wondered on what level or levels." Miki gave that a moment's thought as well, then replied, "That's one of the things I'm supposed to be considering this week, I think." The Toronto Ice Arena was packed. It was almost always packed; the 2404-2405 Maple Leafs were good, the best team the city had seen in years. They were a lock for the playoffs; the only question was how much farther they could go toward a record win-loss-tie record, and the Leafs faithful were turning out in droves to find out. Roy Chernow was one of those faithful, and liked to tell people he had been so since before he was born. He held season ticket #130 - seat 1, row 10, section 118, right behind the Leafs' bench. He was especially looking forward to tonight's game - had been ever since the first month of the season, when it became obvious that the Leafs might have what it'd take to go all the way. Their opponents tonight, the Ottawa Senators, were a prospective playoff match. This game might be a taste of Round 1 two months early. Roy settled into his seat, plugged his beer into the cupholder in his armrest, and greeted his friends and acquaintances in neighboring seats. You don't hold season tickets at a sporting venue without getting to know the people who sit around you, after all. He wondered if Jack Mayer was going to make it tonight. His wife Athena had gotten stricter with him since the birth of their son - which, Roy reflected with a grin, was as it should be, but still, it'd be a shame if Jack had to miss -this- game. Presently, a couple of young people came to the end of his row, consulting the ticket stubs in their hands, and excuse-me'd their way past Roy's knees into the row. They surprised him a little - he didn't recognize them - and surprised him a little more by taking the seats right next to him, Jack's seats. Intrigued, but not overly alarmed, Roy cocked an eyebrow and checked them out. They were kids, high-school age probably, a boy and girl. Human, white, good-looking, she slim and athletic with long, slightly feathery pink hair and laughing blue eyes, he tall and sturdy-looking with a mane of wavy green and a slightly ascetic-looking face. He was dressed in a dark blue ribbed turtleneck sweater and jeans, she in red Martian Army pants and a black jacket that looked like part of a uniform. He carried a box of popcorn and a cardboard tray containing two cups of soda, she a pair of hot dogs with everything. Now that Roy took a closer look, he decided the guy might be in college; he looked a couple of years older than his companion. They were running a little late; they'd hardly taken their seats and gotten settled when the player introductions started, giving Roy no chance to strike up a conversation. It was clear from their behavior that they didn't know either team particularly - they applauded for all the players, which was the polite thing to do, but didn't have any special favorites to cheer on either side. Not so Roy Chernow; he got to his feet and cheered his heart out for the entrance of the home team. His efforts doubled at the apparance of their last player, an absurdly tall and lanky man in heavy armor whose sweater bore the number 38 and the name "TARGET". "And tending goal for the Maple Leafs tonight," cried the PA announcer, "Number thirty-eight: RENE! PHILIPPE! Taaaar-ZHAY!!" Rene-Philippe Target settled himself in front of his goal, raking back and forth on his skates to scuff up the crease, whacking his stick against the ice. He looked a little ridiculous; the man had to be nearly seven feet tall, and his limbs were so long and thin, even in his goaltender's armor, that he seemed almost like a stick figure. He had to hunch down until he almost resembled a folding chair just to get his head below the crossbeam of the net, leaving enormous gaps to his left and right. The girl with pink hair leaned over to say something to her male companion, who chuckled. Roy guessed she was commenting on Target's wiriness, and how much open net it left behind him. He smiled to himself. She was in for a surprise when the puck started coming the Target's way... He stayed on his feet after cheering Target's entrance, since the next thing on the agenda was the National Anthem. Roy noted with approval that the two kids from out of town (they had to be - who lived in Toronto with even a vague interest in hockey and didn't know about Rene-Philippe Target?) got up and stood respectfully during "O Canada", even though it probably wasn't their anthem. When the Leafs played teams from outside Canada, the visiting fans weren't always so respectful, and Roy always appreciated it when somebody -was-. Dimitrios didn't seem to recognize Kaitlyn and her companions at first sight of them; only when he noticed Dorothy did he seem to clue in, at which point he looked absolutely delighted and beckoned them over to the bar. "Good, good, you came," he said. "I told Joe you might. He's looking forward to meeting you." Kate reddened a trifle under her face powder. "M-m-m-me?" she replied. Dimitrios grinned. "He was here for your show last year," he told her. "He had to leave partway through the show and he's been pestering me to get you back here ever since." Kate looked as if she didn't know how to take that. "R-r-reall-l-ly," she said. "W-w-well, I-I... " "Here he comes now," said Dimitrios, pointing to the stage. Indeed, several people were taking the stage. All of them were human, all college-age, two men and two women. One of the women, the one with the bass guitar, was tall and whipcord-thin, with skin the color of milk tea and a mass of orangey-yellow dreadlocks; the other was the drummer, a bit shorter and considerably stockier, with a swimmer's broad shoulders and narrow hips, a decent tan for Toronto in winter and a shock of black hair that stood up like wire. The men were both guitarists and both of about average build, one left-handed and blond, one right-handed, as bald as a cue ball. This one, who went to the microphone at center stage, was wearing wraparound shades that went with his wardrobe of black leather and electrical tape and the gleaming chrome ports of a neuroprocessor on his shaven head to give him more than a little of the techno-outlaw look. This was Joe? Kate was surprised anew when this intimidating figure stepped up to the microphone and said, in a soft, mellow, friendly voice, "Good evenin', Sneaky Dee's... how we all doin' tonight?" Applause and cheers rolled up to the stage from the packed room. Joe smiled, one gold tooth gleaming in the stage lights. "That's great," he said. "We're happy to be here tonight. We're called the Crush of Love, and we call this one 'The Remorseless Advance of Centuries'. My name's Joe." Just as the sound of his name died away, without a drummer's count or any other preamble, the four of them touched their instruments and a song began, possessed of a hard, mechanistic, percussive rhythm under a soaring, almost tortured-sounding guitar line. Kaitlyn was impressed. So was Miki; it wasn't really his sort of music, but the band members had artistry, and the discipline that opening showed didn't escape him either. He paid attention to the song itself, and began to realize as it progressed that it had musical depth not obvious at first blush, complexities hidden behind the starkness of its basic theme. He glanced at Kate, saw that she was hearing it too, and smiled. They moved a little deeper into the crowd and began to dance. Dorothy watched them go, at a bit of a loss, until she felt a touch at her elbow and turned to see a young man in jeans and a Royal Ontario Museum t-shirt smiling at her. "(would you like to dance?)" he shouted through the roar of the band. "(all right,)" Dorothy replied. Ten minutes into the first period, it was obvious, to Roy Chernow's considerable amusement, that the two kids in Jack Mayer's seats didn't know the first thing about ice hockey. Well, no, scratch that - the girl seemed to know the -first- thing, just none of the -other- things. They reacted with puzzlement to icing calls, spent a few seconds figuring out the reasons for various penalty calls to their satisfaction, and were utterly mystified by the concept of the delayed penalty. Finally, as the referee and linesmen were conferring at center ice to sort out a particularly weird penalty situation, he leaned over and touched the girl's arm. "'Scuse me," he said, "but I couldn't help noticing - you kids seem to be a little lost. Anything you want to know, you ask me - I've been around this game all my life. Name's Roy Chernow." He stuck out his hand, grinning. The girl reacted with neither suspicion nor hauteur, earning her a few more points in Roy's book; she just grinned back, shook his hand, and said, "Utena Tenjou," adding, "He's Kyouichi Saionji," with a cocked thumb at her companion. Roy wondered about that for just a second or so - they were obviously pretty good friends, these two, but they didn't act like boyfriend and girlfriend, and he'd just about pegged them for brother and sister before this. Oh well - none of his business really. "You want to help us out," Utena went on, "you can explain what the heck that business with the blue line was all about." "Oh, that's an easy one," Roy said. "They were offsides." "(so where are you from?)" the young man in the Royal Ontario Museum shirt asked Dorothy as they danced to a fast-paced, energetic, but at the same time rather haunting piece Joe called "Blood Races, Time Stands Still". "(new avalon,)" Dorothy replied, having decided that it was far too much work to explain that she was originally from Kane's World, and besides, that wasn't what anybody was really looking for when they asked that question anyway. "(cool,)" he replied. "(i'm jay, by the way.)" "(dorothy,)" said Dorothy, who had somehow found a way to speak loud enough to make her thoughts communicable without actually breaking her impassive attitude by shouting like everyone else had to. Jay seemed to like that for some reason - at least, every time she answered him, he smiled a little wider. "(you're very pretty, dorothy,)" he yelled. "(thank you,)" she replied, though she didn't seem too impressed. Being impressed wouldn't have gone with the outfit, even if it -had- been the kind of thing she did often. Across the floor, Miki Kaoru was starting to enjoy this ridiculous getup Kate and Dorothy had foisted on him. For one thing, the light, unbuttoned shirt meant that he was quite cool even though the room was hot and he was wearing a velvet jacket. For another, girls kept wanting to touch the jacket. Or the pants. He didn't quite know how to react to the latter, but the former was certainly OK. The phenomenon seemed to amuse Kaitlyn considerably. There had been a time, not too long ago, that he would have been either mortified or frightened stiff to be in a situation like this, a time when speaking to or being touched by -any- girl, even one he knew well, would have left him too flustered to function. He wasn't exactly a party animal these days, but Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan had at least cured him of that most extreme form of his withdrawn and reserved nature. The costume and makeup helped with the rest. It was as if he'd put on a mask and become somebody else, except that he was still who he'd always been - he just felt freer to do, freer to be. He wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to live up to his grades, his reputation, his responsibilities as a Councillor and a Duelist... he was just a young man out having a good time with a couple of friends and a city full of friendly strangers. He grinned through his somber makeup at Kaitlyn, made his way closer to her again, and cried, "(this band is quite good. are you having fun?)" "(y-y-yes!)" Kate replied, smiling. "(a-a-are you?)" "(you bet!)" "Oh, so you're friends of Dimitrios," said Roy Chernow during the first intermission. "Well, sort of," said Utena. "My roommate's band played at his place last fall, and he was really impressed, so when we stopped by and asked if he knew where we could get tickets to this game... " Roy nodded, smiling. "He called up Jack and pried tonight's tickets out of him," he said. "Yeah, that's Dimitrios. 'S why I didn't get too excited when you showed up and weren't Jack and Athena. Dimitrios does that once or twice a month for somebody or another. Friends in from out of town, regular customers who need a lift, that sort of thing." "We really appreciate all your help," Utena told him. "I'd seen a couple of games on TV, but never really understood it, and Saionji here'd never seen hockey before in his life. We're from the Outer Rim," she added. "Aaah," said Roy knowingly. "So you missed out on the galaxy's greatest game when you were kids. Shame. Shame. Well, you're here now, though, right? Making up for lost time." He grinned. "Indeed," said Saionji. "I apologize for taking your concentration away from the game to answer my questions. My ignorance is detracting from your game." Roy made a dismissive gesture. "Baaah," he said. "I'm happy to help. See, the way I figure it, we were -meant- to meet like this tonight. Huh? You come to town, you decide to come to the game on the spur of the moment, your friend knows Dimitrios, Dimitrios gets you tickets, you end up sitting next to me. I've been a Maple Leafs fan for 36 years. Nothing about the game or the team I can't answer. It's fate, I tell ya." Saionji pondered this, then nodded. "That's one way to interpret it," he allowed, sounding slightly dubious. "In that case, can you go over the two-line pass again? I understand the mechanic of the rule, but not what its -point- is." "Mm," said Utena, nodding. "What -is- up with that?" "Well, they don't use that rule in a lot of leagues," said Roy, "so there's kind of a -debate- about what the point is, but... " The more the Crush of Love played, the closer to the stage Kaitlyn got, and the more engrossed in their music. Her body kept dancing, smiling, and maneuvering through the other dancers with the grace and balance of a martial artist; her zanshin kept scanning the crowd for potential trouble; but her mind and heart were all occupied with the observation of the band, their performance, and their music. One thing she noticed almost immediately was that Joe looked at the audience a lot more than she did. Normally, when she wasn't focused on her keyboards, Kate was looking at another member of her band, usually Azalynn or Amanda, or at the back of the room. She didn't sweep the crowd with her eyes very often, and almost never looked at individual listeners. Joe, on the other hand, was constantly doing both, having doffed his sunglasses early in the set. He had very pale blue eyes that gleamed under the lights, and as he plied his axe they constantly darted from person to person, as if he were determined to make eye contact with everybody in the audience at least once. Kate found the habit intriguing, but a little disturbing. She glanced to her right and had to laugh (silently, under the rolling torrent of a Crush song called "Tsunami Overdrive"); Miki had been buttonholed by a group of what looked like fellow high-schoolers, mostly girls and a couple of guys, over by the far wall. He was handling them with such aplomb, whatever they were talking about, that it almost looked as though he were holding court. Kate wished she could get a picture. She looked to the left, trying to find Dorothy, but the robot girl was nowhere to be found. The song crashed to an end, the applause burst out, and Joe wiped some sweat from his gleaming pate and said into his mic, "Phew! We're gonna have to take a little break after that one. We'll be back up here in about fifteen minutes... 'til then, peace." Kate made her way to the bar and found an open space; Dimitrios grinned at her and got her a Coke. A few moments later, Miki managed to disengage himself from his admirers and wedge himself in next to her. "Y-you seemed t-to have q-quite a c-c-court g-going there," she observed with a smile. Miki rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "They can't believe it's my natural hair color," he said; then he pinkened a little under his makeup and added, "A couple of them say they want proof." Kaitlyn snickered a little. "Is t-t-today a h-holiday?" she asked with an impish smile. "Not that sort of holiday," Miki replied. "Besides, Azalynn warned me about Canada." The person on Kate's right got up and swam back into the crowd; a moment later he was replaced by a black-clad presence who said softly, "'Scuse me." Kate turned and blinked - it was Joe, and he was talking to her. This close, she was a little startled to realize that his pale blue eyes weren't natural; they were Ikon III cyberoptics, their irises made of nearly transparent refractory crystal. "You're Kate Hutchins, aren't you?" Joe asked in his soft, mellow voice. "Leader of the Art of Noise, from Worcester?" "Th-th-th-that's m-m-me," Kate replied. "Um... I-I'm s-s-sorry, b-but... " Joe grinned, a little shyly, and took a drink of the beer Dimitrios put down in front of him. "That's OK," he said. "Dimitrios warned me. Listen... " "Kick ass, man," somebody said, slapping Joe on one leather-clad shoulder as he passed. "Thanks," said Joe with a nod and a smile. "Anyway," he said, readdressing Kate, "I just wanted to say I thought you guys were really good when you were here last fall. I had to work so I couldn't stay for the whole show, but you blew me away with that opener and then just went up from there. I wish I could sing like you do." "Y-y-you h-h-h-have a n-n-nice v-v-voice," Kate managed, nodding encouragingly. Joe chuckled. "Yeah, it's good for speaking," he allowed, "but I can't hold a tune with it, and Dom sounds like she's been gargling gravel. The harmonies you and your bandmates get... " He shook his head. "Well, it's magic to me. I just wanted to tell you that." "Th-th-thank y-you," said Kate, blushing a little. "I, I th-think... y-y-your... " She nudged Miki and made a brief gesture. Miki smiled. "Your songs have a lot of subtle complexity to them. You really have to listen to realize just how intricate they really are, and a lot of that depends on the performance to bring it out. We both think that's remarkable. Oh - I'm Miki Kaoru, by the way," he said, offering a hand. "Joe Graf," Joe replied, shaking it. "I didn't see you last fall - are you new in the band?" Kate grinned. "N-n-not y-yet," she said. Miki elaborated, "I just started at WPI after Christmastime. I'm Kaitlyn's deputy student conductor with the Institute Orchestra, but I haven't joined the Art of Noise on stage. Sometimes I run the panel." "You guys do classical work too?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's awesome. I always wanted to do that - I've got some classical training, but I don't play a symphonic instrument. Well - I played some cornet in junior high, but I gave it up to focus on the guitar. Now I kind of regret it." "You can probably pick it up again more easily than you think," Miki told him. "My sister gave up the piano when we were small, and she's just recently started practicing again, but she's coming along very fast. You have a lot of talent, that's obvious from your playing, and - do you write the songs, too?" "Me and Jill, and sometimes Dom," he said. "Jill's our drummer, Dom plays bass. Erik's our rhythm guitarist, but he doesn't read music - just plays the fills by ear. He's so good at anticipating us, though... it's like he's got a telepathic power. He doesn't, of course. If he did the freaking Corps wouldn't let him be in a band." Kate nodded, a little sadly. "Mm," she said. "W-w-well... p-p-p-please t-tell th-them f-f-for m-me th-that th-th-they're all v-v-very t-t-talent-t-t-ted. I-I'm r-r-really enj-j-joying the sh-sh-show." "Thanks," said Joe with that same ready grin. "I'll do that. Say, you want to get some dinner or something afterward with us? The band that's on after us is mechano-industrial sklunge, not our speed, so we were planning on taking off. I know this nice little place in Chinatown - tacky as hell, but you can't beat the food." Kate and Miki shared a brief private smile. "W-w-we'd l-l-love t-to," she said. "B-b-but... " "There are three of us," Miki noted. "Dorothy's around here somewhere... " "Oh, no problem, no problem," said Joe, swigging down the last of his beer. "Bring as many as you like, they'll fit us in. I don't suppose the rest of the band is with you?" "N-n-n-not th-this t-t-trip," said Kate. "Too bad, I'd like to meet 'em," said Joe. "So do the guys. Jill really wants to compare notes with your drummer. That double-pedal technique he had for the old Ministry cover you guys pulled out blew her mind." Dimitrios took Joe's empty beer bottle and tapped his watch, smiling broadly. "Yup," said Joe, rising from his stool. "Time to make some more donuts. See you guys after the show, huh?" "S-s-see y-you," said Kate, waving, as he plunged off into the crowd toward the stage again. Then she turned to Miki, grinning. "W-wow. H-he's c-c-cool." Miki nodded. "Seems like quite a nice guy," he agreed. "... so there's been a Chernow at every Leafs game since -this- guy," said Roy, turning to show the name on the back of his sweater, "was an active goalie!" Utena made a mental note to look up the playing years of Leafs goalies named Palmateer, and in the meantime gave an outraged yowl as the ref made a hooking call on Karin Torborg, not because the call was bad, but because Torborg only hooked in retaliation for a vicious crosscheck that the ref had somehow failed to notice. "WHATTAYOU, BLIND?!" Roy Chernow bellowed. "Apparently so!" Saionji concurred. Utena glanced at him and snickered. He had that pinched-face, little-pupils look that had always heralded either big trouble or major (unwitting) comedy from Vice President Saionji back in the Bad Old Days. Seeing that look in this context - the young man staring with that vicious laser-like focus at a referee separated from him by a hundred feet and a half-inch of klaster - struck her as pretty funny. R. Dorothy Wayneright had lost track of Jay during the break, but that didn't bother her over-much. He seemed like a decent enough guy, but it wasn't like she was here looking for a romance, so it was no huge crisis that he'd dropped off her radar. He was probably circulating too. That was what most of this crowd seemed to be doing. She wondered where Miki and Kaitlyn had gotten to, but couldn't see them from her current position. Short of climbing onto a table, there wasn't really any way to see the front of the crowd, and she didn't feel like trying to push her way up there right now. Getting there would be easy; getting there without just shoving everybody out of the way would take calculation. Instead she made her way toward the bar, figuring she might ask Dimitrios if he'd seen where either of her companions were recently. She was intercepted about halfway there by a familiar sandy-haired figure in a Toronto U. shirt, who grinned broadly at the sight of her and pointed as if he'd just discovered the New World. "Hey!" he said (the crowd absorbing enough of the sound of the band from back here that it was possible to speak in a relatively -normal- tone of shout), delighted. "Dorothy, right? It's me, Jeff! How you doing? Boy, you look -terrific-." "Thank you," Dorothy replied blandly. "Excuse me." "Heading for the bar? No problem, let me take care of that for you. I know just the thing for a girl like you." He ducked away into the crowd with a "hang on a second" gesture, and, more out of curiosity than anything else, she stayed where she was. The band finished "Power Dive" and started another, heavily arpeggiated song called "Up and Down" while she waited, and then Jeff reappeared with a tumbler in his hand containing some clear liquid and ice. "There you go," he said, then repeated, "just the thing." Dorothy took the glass, looked at it, and then, for lack of any particular reason not to, took a sip. Her face betrayed no outward reaction as the liquid passed her black-coated lips; she drank off about half of it, then lowered the glass and regarded Jeff with an even, blank look. "That's not legal," she told him. He grinned. "I won't tell if you won't," he said, laying a finger alongside his nose and winking. "Say - you want to go someplace a little quieter and maybe talk? I never got a chance to tell you how badly you misjudged me the other day, what with your guardian goofball and all. Who -was- that guy, anyway? Your boyfriend?" "I don't have a boyfriend," Dorothy said flatly. "Oh! Well, what a -crime-! Tell you what - why don't we go to one of the rooms in the back and talk about that." Dorothy gazed unencouragingly at him for a moment, but it only seemed to deepen his interest. Finally, "All right," she said, "but I have to use the telephone first." She smiled very faintly and lied, "Tell my roommate I'm not coming home." Jeff smiled. "Oh ho! You do that, kitten. I'll be waiting in the back." He looked like he was thinking of leaning forward and kissing her before taking his leave, but she whirled and walked away before he had a chance, slipping through the crowd toward the bar. Dimitrios looked up from wiping down the bar to see her emerge, a slightly-darker-than-usual look on her face. She put the glass down on the bar, leaned toward him, and said in an undertone, "(Put the telephone on the bar and listen to me carefully.)" Dimitrios's eyebrows almost met; then he nodded, said, "Of course, of course," and lifted the instrument from under the bar to place it on top. Dorothy picked up the receiver, dialed a number, and very discreetly thumbed the disconnect key as she put it to her ear. "Do you recall the man in the university sweatshirt and green pants?" she asked the dead line. "He bought this drink a moment ago." "I know him," said Dimitrios offhandedly as he wiped at the bar with his towel. "He comes in here most weekends." "He gave me the drink. Vodka, I believe." Dimitrios frowned slightly. "How old are you?" "Immaterial," Dorothy replied, "I'm a robot." The bartender blinked. "Oh. Then what - " "Two reasons. He doesn't know that; and the vodka is spiked with sub-hypnogen trisulfate." Dimitrios's eyebrows crashed together like a country fair train wreck. "Suggestrol? Are you sure?" "I am capable of analyzing several hundred thousand known chemical compounds," Dorothy replied. "Think of it as a highly advanced sense of taste. If not SH3, then a related compound. A high-powered suggestive psychoactive, at any rate." "Where is he now?" "Waiting for me in one of your back rooms. He thinks I'm calling my roommate to tell her I'm not coming home. He suggested we go back there and have a 'conversation'." "Oh, he'll have a conversation, all right," Dimitrios growled. "Denise! Take over," he barked to one of the waitresses. When Denise (blonde, late college, pretty) had done so, he marked the half-consumed drink with a grease pencil, put it in the small refrigerator under the bar, then took off his apron and came out from around the bar. "You just leave this to me," said Dimitrios. "Didn't I promise I'd take care of it if anyone gave you a problem?" "That's why I brought it to you," Dorothy told him. "My companions are having a good time. I don't want to disrupt their evening with a scene." Dimitrios nodded, his face black with anger. "You did the right thing," he told her. "Don't worry about it." Then he plunged into the crowd and disappeared, heading for the back room. Dorothy stood and considered the situation for a few moments. She felt curiously uneasy, for some reason. She'd never been in any danger; she was utterly immune to chemical intoxicants, after all, and possessed enough strength to ruin entirely the day of any human who tried to take anything from her by force. Nevertheless, she felt almost... almost frightened. Not so much by the encounter itself, as by the thought of what could have happened had she been someone else. One of these others, the Torontonian girls, high schoolers and college coeds, in their combat boots and bangles, laughing and joking. Kaitlyn, at least, would have the sense not to drink anything a guy like that handed her, and she could do a fair bit of remodeling -herself- on anyone who tried it rough... but these other girls hadn't been brought up by a master martial artist and an honorary Valkyrie. They were so defenseless in a situation like that... She shook herself slightly, pushed her way with more surliness than she'd been wanting to display a little while ago through the crowd, and found Miki just as "Up and Down" faded into a pretty, mellow extended bass solo. "Oh, hello, Dorothy," he said as he noticed her. "Are you enjoying the show?" "For the most part," she replied. "Will you dance with me?" "Certainly," he said, and she slipped into his arms quite naturally, since it was such a nice, sweet, slow piece. She refrained from putting her head on his shoulder, though, so as not to get makeup on his jacket. Kyouichi Saionji was halfway back to his seat during the second-period concessions run when it suddenly hit him. "Good Lord, Tenjou," he observed as he got back and handed over her drink and nachos. "Do you realize we're on a -date-?" Utena stopped in mid-crunch of a nacho chip to give him a weird look, then wiped the resultant dribble of cheese sauce from her lower lip with her thumb, licked it off, and swallowed before saying, "Do -not- scare me like that, Saionji." "Sorry," he replied. "But, you know, technically, we -are-. It startled -me- just as much to realize it." "We are -not-," she replied irritably, crunching down another chip. "I don't -go- on dates. We're just watching a hockey game. God, why does everybody always have to try and drag the whole boy-girl thing into everything, anyway?" Saionji spread his open palms in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted. "I wasn't trying to invoke 'the whole boy-girl thing'. It's just that if you accept the definition that a date is a thing that two people do alone together - " " - Which I don't," she interrupted him. " - Fine, but if you -did-, then - Oh, COME ON, Ref! What does he have to DO, take her HEAD OFF?!" "SLASHING! SLASHING!!" bellowed Roy Chernow, who had quite diplomatically not heard any of the preceding byplay. Karin Torborg, who apparently agreed with Roy and Saionji's assessment of the situation, dropped her gloves and took the law into her own hands with regard to Ottawa winger Alex Karnashevskiy's repeated fouls. "OH yeah!" Utena shouted, coming to her feet with the rest of Section 118 and miming a decent right hook. "THAT's the way!" "S-s-so M-Moose s-says," (Kaitlyn's impression of Moose must be heard to be believed, even with her stutter at the stranger level,) "'O-O-k-k-K, w-w-we're h-h-h-here, a-at B-B-BATHURST A-AND C-C-C-COLLEGE... '" The Crush of Love dissolved into gales of laughter, slapping their knees and each other's backs; Miki, who had heard the story before, joined them all the same, and Dorothy looked fairly significantly amused. The little place in Chinatown Joe Graf knew had turned out, as Miki and Kate suspected it would, to be Happy Seven; Joe had been startled and amused when the hostess recognized Miki, makeup and all, deemed him "adorable", and ushered them to a table. "Oh wow," said Joe as he got control of his lungs back. "Batherson's College, that's great. The one who spotted the sign, Utena - that's the girl you had selling your t-shirts and crystals at that show?" Kate nodded. "Mm-hmm. Sh-sh-she's m-my r-r-roomm-m-mate." Joe grinned and nudged his rhythm guitarist with his elbow. "Erik here tried to pick her up that night." "Joe! I did -not-!" Erik Arnulfsson protested, his fair-skinned face going red. "Oh, sure," growled bassist Dom with a cruel grin. "You only went up to her when the only shirt left was the one she was wearing and said, 'I'll take that last one. Can I take it home or do you deliver?'" "I was -kidding-!" Erik blurted. "Yeah," said Dom, smiling into her tea. "Sure." "Yeah, you -some- smooooov, G," remarked Jill in a high, amused Funkotron drawl. "Did she come up to Toronto with you?" asked Joe. Kate nodded. "Sh-she's a-at the L-L-Leafs g-game t-t-ton-night." "I wonder if she's enjoying it," Dorothy mused. At first, it was difficult to tell that anything odd was going on - after all, it was getting toward the third period of a hotly contested hockey game in a packed house with considerable numbers present cheering for -both- teams, -everybody- was screaming - but presently, Utena became convinced that yes, somebody -was- yelling at the top of his lungs, and approaching their position. Only after the yeller in question reached the bottom of their aisle, pivoted, and turned to face them was she able to piece together, from the sight of what he was holding, exactly -what- he had been screaming as he ran down the aisle from the concourse at the top: "CRUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAND! MUUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!!!!" He finished this lengthy exclamation just as he made the pivot at the bottom of the aisle; then he stood, a rather stocky individual, sweating profusely, staring at their section with wild, crazed eyes, wearing a red polo shirt, blue pants, and a large soft-sided box with a Crunch & Munch logo emblazoned on it. He panted for a couple of seconds, then pulled a single box of the snack out of his pack box, brandished it like the Torch of Liberty, and bellowed, "CRUNCH & MUNCH _RULES_!!! WHO WANTS SOME?!!" CRASH! A Senator slammed face-first into the klaster behind the vendor. He jumped, then whirled and slammed the box logo-side-in against the transparent panel, right in the player's face, and yelled again, "CRUNCH & MUNCH _RULES_!!!" "(Damn, Saionji,)" Utena muttered, "(this guy's crazier'n you are.)" "(Thanks,)" said Saionji dryly. "C'MON!" the Crunch & Munch vendor hollered, turning back to face Section 118. "WHO WANTS IT?!" Hands started going up, and the man started lobbing boxes of toffee-coated popcorn unerringly to their targets all over the section, using direct and indirect fire like a flexible missile team. Somehow, this bizarre spectacle didn't detract from the show out on the ice, possibly because the guy wasn't actually standing in anyone's -way-; he was conducting all of this business out in the aisle, which was wide enough that it wasn't anybody's sightline. "IS THAT ALL?!" demanded the wild-eyed vendor as he filled the last order. "COME _ON_!" He plunged his hand into his pack, came up with another box, tore the top off with one violent gesture, and then climbed partway back up and thrust the box at Utena. "TAKE SOME!" he demanded. She blinked at him, startled; he rattled the box and thrust it toward her again. "_TAKE_ SOME!!!" he screamed, not in a tone of command so much as one of desperation. Trying not to laugh too hard, she took some. "Hey, this is great," she remarked. "Try some, Saionji." "Um... all right," said he, and he did so. "Say, not bad." "Two," said Utena. "ALL RIGHT!! CRUNCH & MUNCH _RULES_!!!!" howled the vendor; he dispensed the two boxes and then made his way back up toward the concourse, serving the stragglers. "Very strange," Saionji remarked as he ate his Crunch & Munch. "Odd how some people can completely abandon all restraint that way." "Mm," said Utena between crunches. "C'MON, REF! DROP THE PUCK!!!" Kaitlyn finished scrubbing the last of the temp-dye out of her hair and the makeup from her face, toweled off, put on her pajamas and robe, and emerged from Room 2716's bathroom feeling refreshed and pleasantly tired. Dorothy, who'd already divested herself of her clubbing clothes and makeup, was curled up on her bed in a nightdress Juri had helped her pick out, reading a book. She glanced up and smiled slightly as Kate re-entered the bedroom. "D-did you h-have f-f-fun ton-night, Dorothy?" Kate asked. "Yes," Dorothy replied. She briefly considered relating to Kate what had happened to her at Sneaky Dee's - after all, as her custodian, Kate was responsible for her, and should know about any such incident - but decided against it. It would just make her angry and ruin her evening, and for what? The situation was already handled and over. Later, perhaps. Some other day. Anyway, it wasn't a lie; aside from that, she -had- had fun. "Well, th-that's good," said Kate. She sat down on the end of her bed and flopped backward, arms outstretched. "I h-hope Utena and S-Saionj-ji get b-back soon." There was a knock at the door, which meant it probably wasn't Utena. Kate made a disgruntled noise and started to rise, but Dorothy said, "I'll get it," and then followed through on the promise. Miki Kaoru had scrubbed his face clean and washed the dye and gel out of his hair as well; in jeans and Worcester Symphony Orchestra t-shirt, he looked almost normal again. He blinked and reddened slightly at the sight of Dorothy in her nightdress, a floor-length, rather frilly affair in black and white silk, then followed her beckoning into the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked around, slightly awkwardly, for a place to sit, then settled on the corner of Kate's bed as Dorothy returned to her spot. "Aw," said Kate, hitching herself up on her elbow to regard him. "Y-you w-w-washed your h-hair." "Of course I did," Miki replied. "Appearances aside, it was starting to itch. Besides, you've got pictures. I'm sure tonight will come back to haunt me for some time to come," he said with a smile. "D-did you h-h-have a g-good time?" she asked. "I did," said Miki, nodding. "I especially enjoyed talking with Mr. Graf and the others afterward. He has a lot of very interesting ideas about musical integration... " Kate sat up and nodded eagerly. "Uh-h-huh," she said. "Es-specially... " With a private little smile, Dorothy tuned them out and went back to reading. About five minutes later, as Kaitlyn and Miki were deep in discussion of some arcane point of Joe Graf's use of minor keys, a small army of rabid Toronto Maple Leafs fans invaded the twenty-seventh floor of the Imperial Tower Hotel. Or at least that's what it sounded like from inside the Room 2716, but when the door lock clicked and the door opened, the boisterous crowd turned out to be no bigger than Utena and Saionji. Miki and Kate sat on her bed and blinked at the two new arrivals in puzzled amazement. They were both wearing Maple Leafs sweaters, purchased at the Toronto Ice Arena gift shop after the game. Utena's was a road jersey, white on blue, in the modern style, and bore the name and number of Rene-Philippe Target. Saionji's was the home type, blue on white, and in one of the "classic" styles with a vintage-looking number and letter font. Taking his cue from Roy Chernow, Saionji had bought the sweater of number twenty-nine, Mike Palmateer. As they entered, the two were laughing uproariously over something. They tried to explain what, but without much success. Still, Kate got the distinct impression that they -had- enjoyed the game. "O-k-K," she said, "b-bedtime, kids. Early d-d-day tom-m-morrow. The Z-Zoo op-pens at n-nine, and I d-don't w-want to m-m-miss anyth-thing." Miki nodded. "All right," he said, and got up. "Good night, Miss Kaitlyn, Miss Dorothy." "You're d-d-doing it ag-gain," said Kate with a cautionary raised finger and a wry grin. "Sorry," said Miki. "It's a very ingrained habit. I'll shake it someday." He grinned. "G'night." "Good night, Miki, Saionji," said Dorothy. The five broke into their standard groups of three and two, and tried to settle in for the night. Unfortunately, there was a problem: those who had been to the hockey game hadn't had the wind-down period the club visitors had been granted by the fact that they'd left after the first band, and so were still wired by their experience. On both sides of the hall, the same sad little drama played out. They couldn't sleep, they couldn't sit still, and worst of all, no matter how much they tried, no matter how keenly aware they were of how excruciatingly irritating they were being to their roommates, they could -not- -shut- -up-. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at 2716's door, and Utena took a moment out from pacing and struggling to stay quiet to admit a bleary-eyed, pajama-clad Miki. "Miki?" Kaitlyn said, fumbling at her bedside stand and putting her glasses on again. "W-what's the m-m-matter?" "I can't sleep," Miki replied in a tone of misery. "Saionji won't stop talking." "R-really," said Kate. With a wry grin, she said, "F-funny... I'm h-h-having a s-similar p-p-problem." She turned to Utena. "Utena, g-g-go b-b-bother Saionj-ji. And t-t-take your t-toothb-brush." Utena opened her mouth as if to protest, then let it pass with a defeated smile. "OK, OK," she said, and collected that article from the bathroom. "Good night, you guys." "Good night, Utena," said Miki. He got himself a cup of water from the bathroom faucet, then shut the door behind Utena as she went across to knock on the door of 2715. As he re-entered the main room, Dorothy got up and smoothed out the covers on her bed. "I guess it's the couch for me tonight," she said. Then she turned her dark eyes on Miki, a touch of an impish smile on her face, and added as he took a sip of his water, "Unless you'd rather sleep with one of us." Miki choked, spraying water in a rather picturesque cone which fortunately missed both beds and the TV set, then spent a few moments coughing and spluttering. Kaitlyn gave Dorothy a look that was a smooth blend of amusement, amazement and admonishment, but Dorothy only looked calmly innocent in response. When Miki had recovered his ability to speak, he said, "Er, that's all right, Miss Dorothy - I can sleep on the couch... " "Well, all right," said Dorothy as she put one of her bed's two pillows at one end of the couch, then carefully extracted the lighter of the bed's two blankets and spread that over her makeshift bunk. Then she climbed underneath, arranged herself, and told him, "But one of us will probably fall off before the night is out." "D-Dorothy, s-s-stop t-teasing Miki," Kate told her, but not with much of a straight face. "M-Miki, go to b-b-bed." "Yes'm," both said together, leaving Kate unable to decide at whom to throw her pillow. Finally she gave up, threw it at no one, turned off the lights, and went to sleep. "Thrown out?" Saionji observed as he let Utena into 2715. "Yup," Utena replied. "Don't get any funny ideas." Saionji frowned. "Again with that? Put your mind at rest, Tenjou," he said, stretching out on his bed (the one farther from the window) with his hands behind his head. "I like you nowadays, but I can state without reservation that I have no romantic or sexual interest in you whatsoever." "Well," said Utena as she put her toothbrush in the bathroom, "that's good to know." Then she emerged, looking slightly put out. "Wait a second. -None whatsoever-? Not even a -little-?" Saionji blinked. "Uh, well - " he said. "So if I up and -whipped my shirt off- right here and now," she said, taking hold of the top button of her pajama top (just for illustration, he hoped), "you'd just sit there and say, 'Get out of the way, Tenjou, you're blocking the television'?" Saionji reddened ever so slightly. "Well, maybe a little," he allowed. "But only a -very- little," he insisted. "I do retract the time I called you an ugly tomboy, though. At least the ugly part." Utena grinned, letting go of the button, and sat down on the end of the bed. "Thanks," she said. "In return, I'll retract the time I called you a pretty-boy loser." Her grin became a little evil as she added, "At least the loser part." "Thank you," said Saionji dryly. They regarded each other for a few moments, then cracked up laughing. "Oh my," said Saionji, wiping at his eyes, when he'd finished. "This is bizarre. If only Touga could see us now." "Yeah," said Utena, lying back with her arms stretched above her head. "There's a face I'd like to see again," she said nostalgically. Then, as Saionji was starting to give her an odd look, she sat up and added, "So I could -punch- it," smacking her left fist into the opposite palm. "I quite agree," said Saionji. He picked up the remote control and switched on the TV. "Now that you're -not- blocking the television," he said, "let's see what's on." "A volcano sounds like a freight train with ten thousand square wheels rumbling by at a hundred miles an hour," said a man whose image was superimposed on a picture of a mountain with a vast plume of gray-black smoke spewing from its summit. "That's an interesting metaphor," Saionji mused, changing the channel. He surfed in silence for a few minutes, passing a variety of different programs, none of which seemed all that interesting. One channel they arrived at was quite colorful, though, and so Saionji stopped on it just to see what it -was- that was so brightly colored. On the screen was what appeared to be a theatre stage, occupied mainly by a chorus-like group of women wearing too much makeup and too little clothing, all of it garish. One similar woman was sprawled on the stage in a position of supplicating fright, at the feet of a tall, green, broad-shouldered Orion in an incredibly loud suit and ridiculously wide hat. This man glared angrily down at the woman for a moment, drew a breath, and boomed out in an impressive tenor voice, o/~ "Bitch, where is my money? / I need it right away! / I have to go to HMV and buy some Doctor Dre. / Bitch, where is my money? / There can be no delay! / I have to buy a new pimp suit at Zellers or The BaaaaAAAAAAAY!" As he sang, the lyrics appeared on the screen like white subtitles, turning yellow as each syllable was pronounced. Utena and Saionji blinked at each other. "Must be a comedy show," Saionji said. "I hope," said Utena. "Surf on, Macduff." Saionji did as he was bade, passing a cooking show, sumo wrestling, what appeared to be a robot orchestra playing very bad Cardassian squonk music, and several other things before coming to a news channel. "... ension to the Psionics Regulation and Protection Act was signed into law by Earth Alliance President Clark today in Geneva. This controversial modification to the Psionics Act will extend - " "Damn," grumbled Saionji. "Yeah," said Utena. "Bummer for the colonies' telepath communities." "It steps up the Corps' enforcement powers here on Earth, too," said Saionji. "Chances are it won't affect us, but any advancement for a group like that... " He shook his head. "They make me nervous." Utena nodded. "Me too." Sighing, Saionji resumed his channel sweep. They passed a couple of obscure-sports channels, another cooking show, several uninteresting-looking dramas, and were traversing a block of educational and off-air public access channels when Utena suddenly held up a hand. "Hold on, hold on a minute," she said. "What the hell was that?" "What the hell was what?" Saionji replied. "Back up a couple of channels. No. No. There! What the hell is that?" What the hell that was appeared to be a blank screen with words, in a large, easily readable, slightly ornate yellow font, scrolling past at a decent reading speed. As they scrolled by, they were being read by a calm, cultured, pleasant voice, the sort of voice one would expect to hear from a National Public Radio classical-show DJ or perhaps the recorded instructions on a telephone maze. That wasn't -all- that odd, on the face of it. What -were- odd were the words themselves, at least in the context of "something seen on television": She responded with avidity and did not repulse the handsome lad when his hand came up and touched her throat before moving slowly, lingeringly down towards the valley between her breasts, moulding the linen blouse against her skin... "Oh, you are so beautiful," murmured Walter as he eased her down on the dry grass and leaned over her. She hardly felt his swift fingers unbutton her blouse and slip the straps of her chemise down from her shoulders. He slid his palms over her breasts, feeling the rosy red nipples pouting hard against his hands. He dared venture further, moving his hand along her leg and under her skirt until he reached her thighs. "Ah! Oh! Oh! Walter, don't!" she gasped, contracting her thighs around his fingers. Saionji changed the channel. For a long moment, there was utter silence, except for the faint street sounds filtering through the closed window and the nattering of a foreign-language sportscaster covering some bizarre game involving a lot of running and a white-and-black spotted ball. Slowly, Utena turned her head to look back over her shoulder at Saionji, whose lean face was completely blank. "What the hell was -that-?" she asked. "I'm not sure," he replied. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was nineteenth-century English pornography." "O... K." "And not very good nineteenth-century English pornography, at that," Saionji added. "How do you know so much about nineteenth-century English pornography?" "Professor Tarkenton got a little distracted in Earth Literature of the 1800s one day." "Oh." She turned back to face the TV. "Bizarre." "Indeed." "-This- is kind of cool," Utena mused a few moments later, when Saionji found a channel which presented a range of information all at once. Crammed into a single screen were a local weather report, the current time and date, a little scrolling window containing local and national news headlines, a sports score ticker, a stock ticker, and a regularly switching view of the traffic cameras scattered around the city's major intersections. "I wish Worcester had something like this." "I wish Worcester had -anything-," Saionji replied. "I think it does have a hockey team," said Utena, rising and going over to the window for something to do. "Not major league, but still. They play downtown, at the Centrum." "Mm," said Saionji. He switched off the TV. "That was quite remarkable. I've never seen a game before with such a combination of speed, power and finesse." "I want to try playing it sometime," Utena said. "I'd have to figure out how to skate first, but that doesn't look -too- hard." She did a couple of hamstring stretches and added with a grin, "Can't be any harder to learn from scratch than swordfighting." Saionji laughed. "One would think." Utena looked out the window, down at the sparse night traffic on Yonge Street, and then said in a less-light tone, "Hey... " "What?" asked Saionji. "I'm hungry." Saionji turned to face her more directly and gave her an astonished look. "Again?" "More like 'still'," she said. "What's so weird about that? We had munchies, but never a real dinner." Saionji shook his head with an amused smile. "The way you eat... it's just unbelievable. I mean, -look- at you." She gave him a wry grin. "Saionji - did you just tell me I have a nice body?" He laughed, but not harshly, and said, "I already -said- I retracted the 'ugly' part." He pulled open the bedstand drawer and took out the phone book. "It's Friday night," he said, flipping to the back. "Chances are there's a pizza place open." "I think the one next door is," said Utena, looking down across the narrow service alley north of the hotel. "The sign's still lit up and everything, anyway." She turned and gave him an accusatory look. "Weren't you just hassling me for being hungry?" "Yes, but that was just as a matter of form," he replied. "I'm hungry too." "Oh." They called for pizza and the restaurant sent it to them. This was a luxury which would have been almost unfathomable back at Ohtori Academy, but was part of the fabric of society here on Earth. As they sat on Saionji's bed and ate, they reflected on this and other adjustments they'd had to make in this new world. "I wonder," Saionji mused over a slice of pizza, "whether the transition would have been easier if this world weren't quite so oddly -similar-. The language... the familiar styles of objects and names... at first glance one would think they would be comforting, but they really add to the surreality of the differences." Utena nodded. "Maybe so," she said, "but still - can you imagine if the place had been -completely- alien? I don't think I'd have been able to take it. Waking up in a hotel room was weird, but waking up under some technicolor sky, with bug-eyed critters around... nope. That would've been it for me. Bye-bye what's left of my sanity! I didn't have all that much left to -spare- that day." Saionji chuckled. "No, nor I when it happened to me. Kaoru and Arisugawa seem to have weathered it all right, though." He looked thoughtful. "What -happened- to you on that last day, anyway, if you don't mind my asking?" "Um... well, I sort of -do-, but... " He put up a hand, palm outward. "Then forget it. I don't want to make you relive it just to satisfy my curiosity, if it bothers you." She shook her head. "Mm-mm, it's OK. I think maybe... maybe if I keep saying it out loud, it might start making sense one of these times." "It worked for me," he said, shrugging. So she told him, all about the last day, from his last sight of her in Cephiro to the Worcester Crowne Plaza. "Hmm," said Saionji with a scowl. "I couldn't have predicted the details, of course, but I suspected it might be something like that. Actually, I thought he'd killed you." "Came pretty close," she replied. "One day I hope to return the favor." He gave her a speculative look. "You aren't planning on calling -him- here, are you?" "Nuh-uh," said Utena around a mouthful of cheese. She chewed, swallowed, and went on, "Good God, no. Set that son of a bitch loose in this world?" Saionji nodded. "You're right, of course. There's too much of a chance that your friends would band together and finish him before you got a chance to get your own back." Utena gave him a hard glance, saw the tiny smile on his face, and then laughed, reaching out to touch him on the arm. "Thanks," she said. "I was starting to get all gloomy again. Anyway, Corwin's aunt took care of that little problem for me. I won't be calling anybody across any more." "Good," Saionji repeated. Then he wondered, "Is there a chance you'll be able to reverse it one day? Go home the same way you came?" "Seems likely," said Utena. She considered telling him about her conversation with Dios, then decided against it. Not because she didn't trust him - for she realized, with a burst of surprise, that she did! - but simply because she enjoyed having it as a kind of secret, known only to herself and Kate. She returned to the previous thought and shook her head with a chuckle and a cryptic smile. "What's funny?" Saionji wondered. "This," she said, gesturing. "I'm sitting in a hotel room with -you-, of all people, eating a pizza at 3 in the morning and talking about the Tournament. -Agreeing- with you was a weird enough feeling. I'm not sure I can get my head around actually being -friends- with you." Saionji laughed. "Yes... it -is- strange, isn't it?" He put the empty pizza box on the bedside table and yawned. "But I don't mind. That iron-bound loyalty of yours might as well work -for- me, for a change," he added with a wry grin. That drew a laugh in return, and then the yawn proved contagious as well. The evening's manic energy was fleeing as fast as a clearing pass from Rene-Philippe Target left the Leafs' defensive zone. "I wonder," said Utena, yawning again in mid-sentence, "what Himemiya will think of it, once she's able to join us here." "I'm not sure," said Saionji thoughtfully. "I hope she'll be able to forgive me." He lay back, stretched out, and closed his eyes - just to rest them, he wasn't going to sleep yet, he'd have to shoo her off to her own bed pretty soon and get the lights off and all that, but just for a moment... "I expect she will," Utena mused. "She finally forgave -herself-... " Seeing him close his eyes made her suddenly aware of how heavy her own eyelids were, and she let them fall for a moment. Just a moment, she wasn't going to sleep yet, she'd have to get into her own bed pretty soon and get the lights off and all that, but just for a moment... Kaitlyn rose at eight, showered, brushed, dressed, and then roused Miki (after spending a few moments admiring and photographing his pleasingly disarrayed sleeping state, mussed hair, half-hidden face, and all) and Dorothy. Dorothy put on her green dress, the one she'd been wearing on her first day at WPI, while Miki was in the bathroom, and then Kate marshalled the other two for the invasion of 2715. "Are you sure we should just barge in like this?" Miki inquired as he applied his key to the door. "R-relax," Kate assured him. "Th-they w-w-won't even b-be aw-wake yet." And indeed they weren't; but the way they weren't awake wasn't quite what Kate had had in mind, and for a moment, she and Miki had to just stand there and stare. Kyouichi Saionji was lying on his back on the bed not near the window, stretched out full length with his hands folded over his chest, almost as though he were lying in state. His Maple Leafs jersey was hanging over the back of one of the chairs, but aside from that and his shoes, he was fully dressed, turtleneck and all. He was perfectly composed, his long, wavy green hair fanned neatly out underneath him, a faint smile on his pointy face. Utena Tenjou, in her blue-striped flannel pajamas, was sprawled prone -on the same bed-, at about a thirty-degree angle to Saionji. One foot hung off the side of the bed; her head was resting on his midsection as though it were a pillow, one hand wedged between her cheek and his sweater, the long, slim fingers of one of his hands tangled loosely in her pink hair. The slightly awkward position was making her snore slightly. "Oh my -goodness-," Miki murmured, his face frozen somewhere between amusement and horror. Kaitlyn grinned and took a picture. Flash! "Hrr?" wondered Utena. Her visible eye flickered open, focusing blurrily on Kate; mercilessly, the brown-haired girl took another picture. That got Utena's attention; she sat up as if actuated by a hidden lever and made a grab for the camera, but Kate was too fast for her. In fact, before hiding the camera behind her back, Kate managed to pop off one more picture, this one of Utena's sleep-blurred, irritated countenance, caught in mid-lunge. "Wha?" said Saionji, roused somewhat by all the jostling. "G-good m-m-morning, you t-two," said Kate cheerily. "T-time to g-g-get ready! The z-zoo opens in h-half an hour! L-let's g-g-get a m-move on." Utena wiped her hands down her face, got to her feet, worked the kink out of her neck, and demanded, "What are you planning to do with those pictures?" "W-well, I d-d-dunno," said Kate airily. "I th-think the f-f-first one w-would make a d-d-dandy y-yearbook c-c-candid for the D-Duelists' Society p-page." "-What-?!" Utena burst out, her voice ranging dangerously close to a squeak. "You -wouldn't-!" "W-whyever n-not?" Kate wondered artlessly. "Y-you're b-b-both dressed... " "Like -that- would stop Liza Broadbitch and her crew?" Utena replied. "That's the -last- thing I need is for a rumor to start going around that I -slept- with -Saionji-!" "B-but you d-d-DID," said Kate in a tone of perfect innocence. "You -know- what I mean!" Utena snapped. She held out her hand. "Give me that camera." "No," Kate replied, pleasantly, but definitely with an air of finality in her voice. "Er," said Saionji as he sat up stifling a yawn, "I think perhaps you should do as she asks, Miss Hutchins." Kate shook her head. "M-my c-c-camera, my r-rules," she said with a grin. "It's y-your p-p-penance for b-being such a p-p-pain last n-night," she went on to Utena. Utena glared at her for a second, but couldn't hang onto the indignant facade. It cracked, and she smiled despite herself - a rather sly, I-have-a-plan sort of smile. "I'll fight you for it," she said. Kate gave her an "oh ho!" look. "You w-w-want to f-fight a d-d-duel for these p-pictures?" "That's right. You win, you do whatever you want. I win, you never show them to anyone without my permission. I won't even make you destroy them. What do you say to that?" Kate looked at her watch. "It'll m-make us l-late for the z-zoo... " She looked from her watch to her roommate and returned her sly smile. "... B-but y-you're on." Across an asphalt-covered span of a dozen paces or so, with Dorothy watching the stairway door, Saionji scanning the skies uneasily for police aircars, and Miki looking generally worried and nervous, Utena and Kaitlyn faced off on the roof of the Imperial Tower Hotel, Kate in her jeans and sweatshirt, Utena in her usual dueling costume. Miki had acquired roses for them from the same source he'd used Tuesday night, the hotel concierge - Utena's white, Kaitlyn's yellow. "Ready, partner?" asked Utena, drawing the Thorn of the Rose from her side. "B-bring it," Kate replied, and the scabbard of her zatoichi clattered to the asphalt. /* Joe Satriani "One Big Rush" _Flying in a Blue Dream_ */ "You shouldn't bite your nails," Dorothy said to Miki. "It's bad for your teeth." Miki put his hands in his pockets. Since Christmastime, when Kaitlyn's father and sensei had given his permission for her to make Utena her training partner, the two girls of Morgan 412 had spent two hours a day, almost every day, training in Alden Memorial, or Harrington Auditorium, or Alumni Gym, or out on the Quad on the recent nice days - wherever they could find the room. They didn't always cross swords; sometimes Kate did kata while Utena did strengthening or flexibility exercises, or Utena coached Kate through those same exercises, or Kate showed Utena the basics of the Asagiri Katsujinkenryuu's breathing and meditation techniques, or what have you. But a good portion of the time, they sparred, meeting in mock combat. Their sparring exercises were usually fought with Kate's zatoichi sheathed and a special edge cover of Corwin's design fitted to the Thorn of the Rose, fought to the lightest-touch rule or simply for the exercise. This was the first time they'd fought an actual Rose Duel, live steel, fitted targets, and all. Both girls felt a surge of exhilaration as they threw themselves into their first honest-to-God test of each other. Miki and Saionji had both watched them spar on numerous occasions, Saionji because of his interest in Katsujinkenryuu (he'd asked Kaitlyn to make him her student once, but she'd had to refuse, not yet being a master), Miki because of his fondness for both participants. (Well, why deny it? As Azalynn had told him, lying to oneself was just as wrong as lying to another.) Both had also seen and participated in numerous Rose Duels back at the Academy, duels fought for higher stakes than this, to be sure, but under the same rules. Saionji was struck, as he had been when he'd fought Kaitlyn himself back in December, by the transformation combat wrought in the soft-spoken, unassuming girl. She was always graceful in an understated kind of way, but with a blade in her hand and the gleam of battle in her eyes, she became... -fluid-, like ink flowing from a pen, like a shadow sliding across the surface of a pond. Her fair-skinned face flushed a little, her brown eyes glittered behind her spectacles, and her bearing became feline, like the great striped cats of which she was so fond. She was, he remarked to himself, really quite attractive. If he were not so heart-set on becoming her student, he might well reconsider not having declared suit for her. Utena, for her part, was just the same as she'd always been, back in Cephiro - determined, fearless, explosive and reckless, with that same mixture of uncanny reflexes, untutored unpredictability, and the devil's own luck. The only difference was that here, now, she was -enjoying- the clash of arms, reveling in the skill and strength of her opponent and herself. No reluctance here, only joy. He smiled as he watched her, -smiled- as he remembered his trio of humiliating defeats at her hands - smiled, and knew the universe was just, that his arrogance and stupidity could be put into its place by a wild and courageous creature such as this. It occurred to Saionji then that he was prone to being very philosophical on five hours of odd-dream-studded sleep. The two girls ran, clashed, leaped, spun, parried, riposted, all around the rooftop, the smiles threatening to split their faces. Kaitlyn fought with both hands most of the time, wielding her blade in a style that was both familiar and alien to Saionji's kendoka's eye. Utena's one-handed blade switched from one side to the other, now back again, as she adapted her fighting style to meet her opponent's strengths. The runes along its length began to shimmer and glow as the pace of the battle became more and more furious. Kaitlyn saw it, smiled still a little wider, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. She spun away from a wickedly fast thrust, leaped back, and set herself. "Get READY!" Utena cried, and sprang, scarlet lightning crackling along her blade. For an instant, the countenance of another flickered across her face - - but Kaitlyn wasn't there! " - WHA?!" Utena cried, stopping herself and whirling. Kate was nowhere to be seen. In the space of an instant, as Utena had launched herself, the bespectacled Duelist had utterly vanished. A shadow flickered across the asphalt, black on midnight gray, and Utena's rose scattered to the wind. And -there- was Kaitlyn, ten feet away, her back to her astonished opponent. She was half-kneeling in the forward crouch of a perfect follow-through, her blade and eyeglasses glittering in the sunlight, eyes closed, a calm, ever so faintly smug smile on her face. She rose slowly to her full height, whirled, and bowed. "What - what - what did you DO?" Utena demanded. Kate smiled. "You sh-shouldn't have t-t-told me to g-get r-ready." "Wha - where the hell did you GO?" Kaitlyn retrieved her zatoichi's scabbard and returned the blade to it, then turned to her roommate and said, "N-nowhere. You m-m-missed me by ab-bout an inch." She clapped Utena on the shoulder. "C-c'mon. Let's g-go to the z-z-zoo." Utena sheathed the Thorn and followed her; as she did, she glanced from Miki to Saionji with a questioning look, only to get mystified shrugs from both of them. Resolving to find out what the hell that had been all about when Kate was in a less impishly cryptic mood, Utena left the roof. The Toronto Zoo was well-planned. When originally created, it had occupied considerably more land than anyone had thought it would ever need, and had been located what was at the time an inconvenient distance to the north of the city center. Since then, two things had happened which had proven the zoo planners' foresight was not in vain: - First Contact with Salusia, and Earth's introduction into galactic civilization, in 1999, opening up an entire galaxy's zoological sphere; and - The enormous expansions of Toronto in the twenty-first and twenty-third centuries. Toronto, left unravaged by circumstance, strategy, and luck throughout the World Wars, had become and remained one of Earth's great cities, one of the four or five regularly known to non-Earthers. This had caused immense growth in times of planetary prosperity, and relatively low shrinkage even in hard times. The city had grown to encompass the zoo, but not before it could acquire still -more- property to serve as a buffer and house more offworld and endangered indigenous species. Fortunately for Kaitlyn, who had lost nearly an hour to her duel with Utena and its appurtenances, the zoo had just switched from winter hours the week before, so that it was open until 6 PM instead of 4:30. This gave her an extra hour and a half which was sorely needed if she wanted to see everything, which she most assuredly did. Miki accompanied her avidly, taking in all the sights and sounds of one of the galaxy's great zoological gardens. Dorothy, too, was impressed, though she showed it less readily, as with all things. As for Utena and Saionji, well... they certainly -wanted- to be impressed, and perhaps they even were, but it was very hard to tell, because they were the Walking Dead. Admittedly, Kaitlyn's plan to see everything in the zoo on the available time was complicated somewhat by her allocation of a solid hour for nothing but the tigers - but as the Bengal contingent had just been graced, a few weeks before, by the arrival of cubs, that bit of time budgeting turned out to be prudent, and in fact slightly too conservative. For an occasion such as this, Kate had Seven with her, not caring a single whit about the social implications of a girl less than two weeks shy of her sixteenth birthday carrying around a threadbare stuffed animal with her in a public place. The tiger keeper, a burly and jovial man whose nametag read "DEVERIC", smiled at the sight as he answered her questions about the cubs, knowing a much-loved childhood icon when he saw it. That kind of thing was why he loved working at the zoo; something about people's favorite animals brought out the children in them. "I've been wondering, Kaitlyn," mused Miki as Kate finally tore herself away from the tigers and moved on toward the giraffe habitat. "Mm?" asked Kate. "Why is your stuffed tiger called 'Seven'?" "D-Dad's l-l-little j-joke," Kate replied with a fond smile. "H-he'd never t-t-tried to m-make a s-stuffed t-toy b-before I was b-b-born. He c-claims it t-took him s-seven tries to g-get something th-that w-wasn't so wr-wrong-l-looking it s-scared me." Miki chuckled. "Do you think it's true?" "Wh-who kn-knows?" Kate replied, patting the head of the ragged tiger tucked under her arm. "It's a f-f-family legend. You d-don't q-question that k-k-kind of th-thing too c-closely." That got a thoughtful nod. "I see your point," he said. "That's about how I feel right now," said Saionji gloomily as he observed a very fat, very torpid python in the Reptile House. "Nnn," said Utena. "I'm too hungry to look that smug." "You're hungry again?" "That's the problem with eating," she replied, "it never -takes-." "The next pavilion has a snack bar," Dorothy informed them. "Thank God. I don't suppose it has a bunkroom." "... That seems doubtful." Shortly thereafter, Saionji was finally able to see an -actual- moose. He promptly took the crowning photograph of his entire week-long moose hunt: a real moose standing in the same frame as the zoo's representative of the -concrete- moose clan (this one painted to appear as if it were wearing a natty Armani suit). The experience seemed to invigorate him, and the beautiful, slightly cool day put some life back into Utena as well. By the early afternoon, both had their second wind, and the rest of the day passed in a succession of sometimes amazing, sometimes hilarious, and always educational meetings with the wildlife of the galaxy's Class-M planets. They finished with the Aviary of Otherworldly Birds at 5:45, at which point Kaitlyn made a headlong dash back to the tiger enclosure to get a few more minutes of watching them in before the zoo staff threw them out. "A-aren't they m-m-magnif-ficent?" she asked Utena as they made their (highly reluctant, in Kate's case) way back to the parking lot. "I'd l-love to h-h-have one somed-day." Utena blinked. "Kate, they grow to weigh something like 600 pounds." "T-true," said Kate wistfully. "So it'll at l-l-least have to w-wait until we m-move out of the d-dorms." Utena wasn't sure if she was joking or not, and decided she really didn't want to find out. Utena and Saionji's second wind burned out on the drive back downtown to the Imperial Tower, but a two-hour power nap gave them enough life to dress formally for dinner at the Four Seasons. This outing been selected during their first planning session, Sunday morning, to provide the capstone to their week in Toronto, and as such they didn't stint. Dorothy put on her red dress; Kaitlyn's black and orange dress got another showing; Miki and Saionji went back to the concierge and rented those tuxedoes again. Just to give Kaitlyn something else to take a picture of, Utena followed her joking suggestion of Tuesday night and rented a tux -herself-. As Kate had predicted, that got an odd look from the concierge, but his not to wonder why; he'd come through admirably on such short notice, with a swallow-tailed, notch-fronted number like those on the two young men. It had required some adjusting, and the shirt had to be autotailored from scratch, but the end result was quite remarkable. All it needed was a top hat and cloak, which Miki promptly dashed out and scrounged on Queen Street. "C-Corwin's going to w-w-want a c-c-copy of th-this one," Kate observed with a smile as she snapped a photo of the full ensemble. Utena grinned. "I figured you'd be giving him the whole set," she remarked. "W-well, m-maybe except for th-this m-m-morning's," Kate replied. "I'm n-not sure he'd b-be able to t-t-take that one." "Will you quit with that already?" said Utena with exaggerated impatience. "Saionji and I are -so- not each other's type. He likes quiet girls who can't cook." "Lack of cooking ability," Saionji said dryly, "is -not- an absolute prerequisite." They ate their formal dinner at the Four Seasons (Kaitlyn savored the startled look on the face of the maitre d' as he realized that the party was, in fact, -three- ladies and -two- gentlemen), paying more for that single meal than any other full day's worth of food in the entire trip and not regretting it a jot; then they went back to the Imperial Tower, turned in their tuxes (Utena got to keep the shirt), packed their bags, and turned in early. Next day they bade a fond and wistful adieu to the city of Toronto and headed back around the heel of Lake Ontario toward Niagara Falls. They didn't stop long in Niagara itself; the city was rather dirty, rather tacky, and didn't smell all that good. The falls themselves were spectacular, worth the half-hour they all spent on the observation platform and taking the tour of the tunnels that led behind the cataract, but they felt no desire to linger in the area once they'd seen the only attraction, and so they crossed back into the United States without incident and motored east. As they did, they talked about this and that, reliving their experiences. Kaitlyn, Dorothy and Miki talked about their meeting with Joe Graf and his Torontonian guitar band; Utena and Saionji told the stories of their hockey experience with Roy Chernow in more coherent, less you-had-to-have-just-been-there terms. "J-Joe said he'd c-come to our sh-show on the t-twenty- s-s-sixth," said Kaitlyn cheerfully. "I m-m-might t-try to g-g-get him to j-join us f-for a c-cover, s-something c-c-classic and g-guitary. 'P-Purple Haze', m-m-maybe. Azalynn d-doesn't like p-playing that one - s-says it m-m-makes her t-t-teeth hurt." "'Purple Haze', isn't that the ''scuse me while I kiss this guy' song?" asked Utena. "It's 'k-k-kiss the s-sky'," said Kaitlyn, rolling her eyes. Utena smiled. "Yeah, I know, but you might want to change it... " Kate blinked at her, then snorted. "P-please. C-can't I think a g-guy is c-cool without everyb-body assumes I'm h-hot for him? B-besides," she added pontifically, "o-older g-g-guys are t-trouble." "Tell me about it," said Utena wryly. Kate gave her an alarmed look, as if she hadn't realized she was heading that way, but Utena waved it off - it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, the snow was gone, the climate field was working perfectly, and it hardly seemed out of place at all for Vivaldi's "Spring" to be pouring from Vlad the Impala's stereo. Under conditions like this, she could shrug it off, and did so. "Are you really going to put that picture of Tenjou and me in the yearbook?" asked Saionji in a slightly pained tone. "Of c-course. I w-won the duel, I c-can do w-w-whatever I w-want with it," Kate replied airily. "I -will- get you for that, you realize," said Utena with a smile. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day, you -will- pay." Kate smiled. "I kn-know," she replied. They reached WPI in the early evening and were promptly ambushed by Azalynn, who nearly knocked down each of them in turn as she greeted them in front of the Wedge. "How was it?" she asked. "Did you have a good time? Devlin and Amanda are back." "A-already?" asked Kate, puzzled. "Yeah," said Azalynn, looking a little upset. "It, uh, didn't go all that well." "Amanda's father didn't like Devlin?" Miki asked. "Oh, no, that went fine... it's just that her sister spent the whole week trying to kill her, and - well, I'll let her tell you, she's in the Wedge... " They sat in the Wedge with Azalynn, Mia, Amanda, and Devlin, hearing the latter two's stories of their eventful week on Gamilon, telling stories of Toronto to cheer them up in return. One of the stories of that week on Gamilon didn't have to be told; it was plain to see in the modifications to Amanda's face, which had drawn a wide range of alarmed exclamations from the roadtrippers upon seeing them. The scar crossing her right eye was startling, the cybernetic cowl sealing off that eye socket more so, but Amanda seemed quite philosophical about it. It didn't escape any of the five, in fact, that Amanda and Devlin's shared experiences, arduous as they were, had brought them closer together. They sat next to each other in the corner of the big Wedge booth the whole time, trading glances, their hands linked. Amanda was never much on public displays of affection; for her to hold Devlin's hand in a common area like the Wedge was akin, as Azalynn put it later, to a normal girl slobbering in his ear on a city bus. The discussion only briefly touched on the passage of the Extension to the Psi Act; after all, though it boded ill for the structure of society at large, it would have no direct effect on any of -them-, right? For once in her life, Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan missed a trick. Juri Arisugawa glanced up from the book she was reading as Dorothy let herself into Morgan 413, and smiled. "Hello," she said. "How was your trip?" "Quite entertaining," Dorothy replied, plunking her suitcase down on her bed. "How was your week?" "Quiet," Juri replied. "I've enrolled in a class next term," she added after a moment. "Oh?" Dorothy said as she began unpacking and hanging up her clothes. "Just one?" "For now. I only wanted to be enrolled so that my presence here would be legitimate, and to test the waters a bit. I tested in as a junior, but I don't feel taking on a full course load just now would be advisable, so I'll take one class to get my hand in, and then perhaps next year, when you're all juniors too, I'll jump back in full-time." "Probably wise," Dorothy agreed. "What class?" "Twentieth-Century Literature III." "Devlin Carter and I are taking that next term as well. Which division are you in?" "One - Professor Harris's." "Oh. That's too bad. Devlin and I will be in Division Two with Professor Chandrijan." She turned and gave her roommate a faint smile. "Chances are you'll be thrown out of Division One within a week, so I expect we'll be able to study together anyway." "Well, we'll see," Juri replied with a matching little smile. Janice the RA leaned in at the door. "Hey, you're back," she said to Dorothy. "Have fun up north?" "Yes," Dorothy replied. "It was... illuminating." "Well, good. I'm glad you're back. The redhead's done nothing but pace all week," said Janice, indicating Juri. "Keeps me up at night." "Sorry," said Juri dryly, smiling slightly over the top of her book. Next morning at breakfast, Kaitlyn mentioned the conference she'd been invited to and, very hesitantly, asked Juri if she would like to be her guest in Paris. Juri received the invitation with calm, almost impassion, and asked, "What would I do while you're at the conference?" "Oh, there's plenty to do in Paris," said Azalynn brightly from across the table. "Museums, and churches, and historic places, and shops, and more museums, and - you could spend a -month- there and not scratch the surface of all there is to do. I went there for a term last year, to do a project for my hyperlinguistics French unit, and it was the most fun I've ever had! It's -such- a beautiful city. And -so- romantic, too," she added, smiling a little dreamily. "Excusez-moi, Monsieur - voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?" Juri blinked. "'Excuse me, sir - would you like to go to bed with me tonight?'" Azalynn grinned. "Ah, you speak French! That'll help." "That was Gaulish," Juri said. It was Azalynn's turn to blink at her. "The language of Gaulia, back home," Juri elaborated. "It's the heartland of international fencing in Cephiro. I learned the language when I was a girl so that I could study under one of the great Gaulic fencing masters, Charbonneaux. He refused to take any student who wasn't fluent in Gaulish." "Well, isn't -that- a coincidence," said Azalynn. "Here on Earth, it's French, the language of France, which is the country where Paris is. So you're all set!" Juri looked somewhere between faintly troubled and faintly amused, then turned to Kaitlyn. "As it happens, I -have- enrolled for a class in D-term," she said, "but only a single one; I'll speak to my professor and see if I can safely miss the first week, and if so, I'd be happy to accompany you. I'd like to see more of this strange world I've found myself in... and now I'm intrigued. I wonder how much like Gaulia this 'France' will turn out to be." Kaitlyn smiled. "W-w-w-well," she said, "I, I, I'll b-b-b-be g-glad to h-h-h-have y-you, i-if y-you c-c-can c-come." For some reason, she seemed to think that was a slightly embarrassing thing to say after she'd said it; going a little pink, she busied herself with her alleged waffles. Azalynn diplomatically failed to notice; Juri just plain failed. Corwin arrived at noon, all smiles; Utena, who had spent the morning doing laundry and hurriedly repacking, met him in the Wedge, where he'd already found Kate and started looking at the photos from Toronto. As had Utena and Saionji at the sight of the real thing, he nearly laughed himself unconscious at the picture of Goth Miki. "Welp," he said after he'd reassembled himself and seen the rest of the photos, "we'd better get going - Aunt Bell's expecting us for dinner, and she doesn't like it when people are late." "Does she get mad? I can't really even picture your aunt mad." "No," Corwin said, "worse - she gets -disappointed-." "Ohhh," said Utena, nodding. "I gotcha. Yeah, we'd better get moving." She leaned down to pick up her bag and asked Kaitlyn one last time, "(You sure you're going to be OK?)" Kate gave her a smile and nod. This -was- going to be the first night since two days before Christmas that Kaitlyn had slept alone; she and Utena had gone back to their separate bunks upon returning to school, but not since December 22nd had she been alone in a bedroom for a night. Utena's concern was not misplaced; but, Kate thought, it wasn't necessary. "(I'll b-b-be f-fine,)" she replied quietly. "(Th-thanks f-for a-asking.)" "(If you find out you were wrong,)" Utena murmured, "(call. Corwin was there. He'll understand.)" Kate nodded again. "(I kn-know. G-go on, h-have a g-g-good t-time.)" "(OK.)" Utena put her hand on her roommate's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, then hefted her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder as she straightened. "Awrighty," she said to Corwin with a grin. "Let's go! See you Saturday, Kate." "S-s-see you. B-be c-careful!" "We will," Corwin and Utena said in entertaining stereo, and then they left the Wedge, climbed into Corwin's old limo, and roared off to the spaceport. "Did Professor Harris let you out of the first week?" Dorothy asked, looking up from her reading as Juri returned to Morgan 413 that night. "In a manner of speaking," said Juri dryly as she took off her shoes. "He told me if I couldn't be bothered to turn up for the first week, I might consider burdening some other professor's class roster with my uncommitted presence, as he himself had no room in his for dilettantes." She sat down on the edge of her bed and stretched. "So," she went on, "it appears that when Kaitlyn and I return from Paris, you and I -will- be classmates after all. Professor Chandrijan was considerably more accommodating." Dorothy nodded. "He tends to be." She considered for a moment, then said, "I'm glad you're going. I think you and Kaitlyn will make good friends." Juri raised an eyebrow. "You're starting to sound like Azalynn," she said dryly. Dorothy shrugged slightly. "I probably meant it differently than she would have," she said. Juri smiled. "Probably. Either way, I - what's that?" she interrupted herself, as Dorothy pinned a photo to the corkboard on the wall behind her desk. Juri got up and crossed the room to take a closer look at it. It was a photo of a slim, pale young man dressed in an outlandish getup of black velvet and white, ruffled silk, with streaks of kohl surrounding his eyes, black lipstick, and white face powder enhancing his pallor beneath them. His hair was bluish-black and spiked into a cleverly geometric disorder. He stood with his right hand in the pocket of his velvet smoking jacket; his left hand was raised, palm up, and a goblet of some blood-red liquid rested in it, the liquid matching the scarlet polish on his fingernails. His fingers were bedecked with rings, his bare chest crossed by black beads and a silver ankh. One blue eyebrow was cocked above one black-rimmed blue eye, the expression on his handsome, powdered, painted face an intriguing combination of ennui, amusement, and frank, slightly mocking sexual challenge. Juri wasn't one to have her head turned by a picture of a man, especially one she didn't know, but there was something very interesting indeed about this weirdly dressed stranger. For all his outlandish garb and peculiar makeup, he had a curious magnetism about him. The look in his eyes, the faint and mocking smile on his black-painted lips, made it hard to look away from him. In person, she thought, the effect might well have been -palpable-. "Who on Earth... ?" Juri wondered, before the lines of his face sank in. She gave a disbelieving little cry and leaned closer. "... Is that... -Miki-?" she asked. Dorothy smiled. "Yes," she replied. "He protested the costume at first, but by the end of the evening he'd started to get 'into' it... as you can see." Juri blinked at the picture in disbelief. She didn't laugh; she was the first person Dorothy had seen looking at it who hadn't laughed. Dorothy found that quite interesting, but didn't comment. "Were you... all dressed like that?" Juri inquired after a few silent moments of gazing at the picture of Miki. "No," said Dorothy. "Only Miki, Kaitlyn and me." She shuffled through the stack of copies Kate had given her and sorted out the pictures of herself and Kate. Juri looked them over, smiling now. "Interesting style," she said. "Where on Earth did you go that you had to dress like that?" "Sneaky Dee's," said Dorothy. "We didn't have to dress that way; we did it for fun." "My goodness," said Juri, shaking her head. "I may never look at poor Miki the same way again." The week passed uneventfully for those who stayed in Worcester. Kaitlyn received nightly phone updates from Utena, who assured her that her motorist training was going very well indeed. She was getting a crash course - "Er, no pun intended" - from Corwin, his mother, and his uncle Keiichi, the last of whom was a mechanical engineering professor at the Nekomi Institute of Technology on Tomodachi and a famous racing driver in certain circles on that populous, racing-crazy planet. By the end of the week, Uncle Keiichi assured Kate, the three of them would have Utena ready to run the Paris-to-Dakar Rally if she felt like it. That might have been a slight exaggeration, but she certainly seemed to be having fun, anyway. Kate spent the week brushing up on her Gaulish - er, French; arranging the things she would need to take with her; and finalizing the selection of the compositions she would take with her to represent her year's efforts before her peers at the IRCAM Conference of Modern Composers. The portfolio she selected with Miki's assistance and Juri's tasteful advice, she thought well-balanced, including several of her new classical-style pieces (pride of place going to the composition Miki had helped her perfect on Christmas), a neo-swing piece for big band, and two new Art of Noise songs. On Saturday, Utena returned, flushed with success and slightly sunburned from bombing around Nekomikoka in an open car for most of the week. She had her New Avalon driver's license and an honorary membership in the NIT Motor Club for her week's efforts, and Corwin was so proud of her accomplishments under his tutelage that he looked as if he might explode. She spent Saturday night regaling the nearly-full membership of the Duelists' Society, and a few others, with stories of the hair-raising near misses, close shaves, and outright wrecks she, Corwin, Skuld and/or Keiichi had been involved in, with occasional digressions into Aunt Bell's fussing over their minor injuries and mechanical problems. Her first meeting with Corwin's -other- aunt, Urd, had apparently gone quite well too, but nobody could get any details. Sunday morning, Kate rose early, dressed, gathered up her bags, said her goodbyes to Utena, and went across the hall to see that Juri was ready to go. She was, and after taking her leave of Dorothy, she accompanied Kate down to Vlad the Impala. "Th-th-thanks f-for c-c-c-coming," Kate said as she drove toward Boston. "I-it's r-r-really k-k-kind of a b-b-b-bummer, b-being a-all al-l-lone in P-P-Paris... " Juri smiled - slightly, but smiled, all the same. "I'm looking forward to it," she said. "It'll be a chance to us to get to know each other better." Her smile became slightly wry as she added in a familiar deadpan tone, "I'm trying to become a more social creature." Kaitlyn glanced at her as if she didn't quite know how to interpret that; then she smiled, sat back in her seat a little, and began to laugh. After a moment, Juri joined her. /* Joe Satriani "The Crush of Love" _Live in San Francisco_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presented UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT - Symphony of the Sword - Entr'acte: Hogtown Rhapsody The Cast (in order of appearance) Utena Tenjou Kaitlyn Hutchins Miki Kaoru R. Dorothy Wayneright Kyouichi Saionji Nick Rivers Wan Ho-Min Dimitrios Makenikos Arbuthnot Jeff Campbell Dios Corwin Ravenhair Skuld Ravenhair Roy Chernow The 2404-2405 Toronto Maple Leafs The 2404-2405 Ottawa Senators Domina Kelley Jill McElwain Joe Graf Erik Arnulfsson Jay Chen Denise Howarth Crunch & Munch Vendor Frank Deveric Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan Mia Ausa Amanda Elektra Dessler Devlin Carter Juri Arisugawa Janice Barlow Framer of Worlds Benjamin D. Hutchins Ice Hockey Rules Lawyer John Trussell Mr. Kaoru's Wardrobe by Anne Cross Typo Catchers The Usual Suspects Joe Graf & the Crush of Love musically inspired by Joe Satriani and his live tour band - Eric Caudieux, Stuart Hamm, and Jeff Campitelli Victorian porn excerpted from "Erotic Tales of the Victorian Age" (editor anonymous) by way of http://www.ralphmag.com/briefsV.html , which seems to be a bunch of book reviews Canadian late-night cable really does have dramatic readings of Victorian porn We've forgotten the name of the show, but the Pimp Opera is quoted from memory of an actual Toronto late-night cable comedy show, circa September 2000 The Crunch & Munch Guy is real; as of early 1999 he worked at the Fleetcenter Volcano line snagged from a random late-night documentary; I didn't want to forget it, so I put it in here The Symphony will return