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Prologue: The Beginning of Something Strange
Agnes Tachyon is a genius. She is also a disaster. She has invented a device that can theoretically transmute lead into gold, a coffee brewer that violates at least three laws of thermodynamics, and a pair of racing shoes that may or may not be sentient. She has not slept in seventy-two hours. She is fine.
Manhattan Cafe is a quiet, sleepy girl who talks to plants, drinks coffee like it is a religious sacrament, and has a habit of appearing in places she should not be without anyone noticing her arrival. She is the only person in Tracen Academy who can match Tachyon's energy, not because she has the same energy, but because she has the exact opposite energy, and somehow, impossibly, they cancel each other out.
The first time Manhattan Cafe saw Agnes Tachyon, she was on fire.
Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. Literally on fire. There was a small flame on the sleeve of her lab coat, and she was staring at it with an expression of mild scientific curiosity, as if she was trying to determine the exact temperature at which polyester would ignite.
Cafe walked over, picked up a beaker of water from the nearest table, and poured it over Tachyon's arm.
"Ah," said Tachyon, watching the steam rise. "Thank you. I was going to get to that."
"You were not," said Cafe.
"No," agreed Tachyon. "I was not."
That was the beginning.
Misadventure One: The Fire That Was Not Supposed to Happen
The first misadventure happened on a Tuesday.
Tachyon had been working on a new formula for a performance-enhancing drink. She had been working on it for approximately forty hours with no breaks, no food, and no sleep, and she was at the stage of exhaustion where everything seemed like a brilliant idea and also slightly hilarious.
The formula required a precise combination of ingredients heated to a precise temperature. Tachyon was very good at the precise part. She was less good at the part where she remembered to turn off the bunsen burner when she was done.
The fire started small. A stack of papers. A forgotten cloth. The edge of a curtain that should not have been anywhere near a heat source. Within minutes, the corner of the lab was burning, and Tachyon was standing in the middle of it, staring at the flames with the same look of mild scientific curiosity that had characterized their first meeting.
Cafe found her there.
She had been walking by the science building when she noticed the smoke. She had not panicked. Cafe did not panic. She simply walked inside, followed the heat, and found Tachyon standing in front of a growing fire, muttering about thermal dynamics and oxygen flow.
"Are you going to put that out?" asked Cafe.
"In a moment," said Tachyon. "I am collecting data."
Cafe looked at the fire. She looked at Tachyon. She looked at the fire again. She sighed, a small, quiet sound, and walked to the wall where the fire extinguisher was mounted. She pulled it free, returned to Tachyon's side, and sprayed the fire until it was nothing but smoke and the smell of burnt paper.
Tachyon blinked. "I was going to do that."
"You were not," said Cafe.
"No," said Tachyon. "I was not."
She looked at Cafe, and for the first time, she seemed to see her. A girl with long, dark hair and sleepy eyes, holding a fire extinguisher like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"What is your name?" asked Tachyon.
"Manhattan Cafe."
"Manhattan Cafe," repeated Tachyon, tasting the name. "You are interesting. I would like to be your friend."
Cafe tilted her head. "Okay."
And that was that.
Scene Two: The Storage Closet
The second misadventure happened three days later.
Tachyon had been exploring the basement of the science building. She was looking for something, she could not remember what, and she had dragged Cafe along with her because Cafe was quiet and did not ask questions and that was exactly what Tachyon needed in a research partner.
The basement was old and dusty and full of things that had been forgotten for years. Tachyon was in her element. Cafe followed her in silence, stepping over boxes and around broken equipment, her presence so quiet that Tachyon kept forgetting she was there.
The door clicked shut behind them.
They did not notice at first. Tachyon was too busy examining a box of old chemistry equipment, and Cafe was too busy staring at a plant that had somehow grown through a crack in the concrete floor. It was not until Tachyon tried to leave that they realized the door was locked.
"Ah," said Tachyon, rattling the handle. "This is a problem."
Cafe looked at the door. She looked at Tachyon. She sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, and folded her hands in her lap.
"We will wait," she said.
"For how long?"
Cafe shrugged. "Until someone finds us."
Tachyon stared at her. "That is not a plan. That is a lack of a plan."
"It is a plan," said Cafe. "It is just a patient plan."
Tachyon wanted to argue, but she could not. There was something infuriatingly calm about Cafe, a stillness that seemed to radiate from her like heat from a fire. Tachyon was used to being the fastest, the loudest, the most brilliant. She was not used to being out-stilled.
She sat down next to Cafe.
They sat in silence for a while. Tachyon fidgeted. Cafe did not.
"This is boring," said Tachyon.
"Yes," said Cafe.
"I do not like being bored."
"I know."
Tachyon looked at Cafe. Cafe was looking at the ceiling. She did not seem bothered by the silence or the darkness or the fact that they had been locked in a basement with no way out. She seemed, in fact, perfectly content.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Tachyon.
"Coffee," said Cafe.
"That is it? You are locked in a basement, and you are thinking about coffee?"
"Yes."
Tachyon stared at her. Then she laughed. It was a sharp, surprised sound, and it echoed off the walls of the small room.
"You are the strangest person I have ever met," said Tachyon.
"Thank you," said Cafe.
They were found six hours later. By that time, Tachyon had told Cafe about her theories on time travel, her plans to build a machine that could communicate with plants, and her deep, abiding hatred of the school's cafeteria coffee. Cafe had listened to all of it, and she had not interrupted once.
When the door finally opened, and a janitor peered in with a flashlight, Tachyon stood up and dusted off her lab coat.
"That was not so bad," she said.
Cafe stood up too. "I liked it."
Tachyon turned to look at her. "You liked it?"
"Yes," said Cafe. "You talk a lot. I like listening."
Tachyon did not know what to say to that. So she said nothing. But she made a mental note to keep Cafe around. She was useful. She was quiet. And she liked listening.
That was more than Tachyon had ever gotten from anyone else.
Scene 3: The Ghost
Tachyon did not believe in ghosts.
She believed in science. She believed in data. She believed that everything in the universe could be explained, eventually, by the application of enough intelligence and effort. Ghosts were a superstition, a holdover from a time before people understood the world around them.
So when she heard the rumor about the old dormitory building being haunted, she was not scared. She was intrigued.
"There is no such thing as ghosts," she told Cafe, as they walked toward the building. "I will prove it. I will spend the night there, and I will collect data, and I will show everyone that the reports of paranormal activity are nothing more than faulty wiring and overactive imaginations."
Cafe did not respond. She was looking at the building with an expression that Tachyon could not read.
"Are you coming?" asked Tachyon.
"Yes," said Cafe.
They entered the building.
It was old and dusty and full of shadows. Tachyon set up her equipment, cameras, sensors, temperature gauges, and settled in for a long night of scientific observation. Cafe sat in the corner, her legs crossed, her eyes closed.
The first hour was uneventful. The second hour was also uneventful. By the third hour, Tachyon was starting to get bored.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "There is nothing here. There is never anything here. Ghosts do not exist."
"Of course they exist," said Cafe.
Tachyon turned to look at her. "What?"
"I am a ghost," said Cafe.
Tachyon stared at her. "What?"
"I died three years ago," said Cafe, in the same calm, flat tone she used to talk about the weather. "I have been living in this building ever since. I do not know why I am still here. I do not know why I do not move on. But I am here."
Tachyon opened her mouth. She closed it. She opened it again.
"You are joking," she said.
"No," Cafe said.
"You are playing a prank on me."
"No."
"You are trying to mess with my data."
"I am a ghost," Cafe repeated. "I can prove it if you want."
She stood up. She walked to the wall, and she walked through it.
Tachyon's brain stopped.
Cafe came back through the wall, her expression unchanged. "Do you believe me now?"
Tachyon sat down very slowly. "I... I need to revise my understanding of the universe."
"Take your time," Cafe said.
Tachyon did not sleep that night. She spent the rest of the night asking Cafe questions about what it was like to be dead. Cafe answered them all, patiently, with the same quiet calm she brought to everything.
"You are not scared of me," Cafe said, at some point.
"No," said Tachyon. "You are the most interesting thing that has ever happened to me. I am not going to be scared of you."
Cafe smiled. It was a small, rare thing, and it transformed her face.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For not running."
Tachyon snorted. "I do not run. I am a scientist. I observe. I learn. I understand."
"Even if you cannot understand?"
"Especially then."
They sat together in the dark, and Tachyon felt something shift in her chest. She did not have a name for it. She did not need one.
Scene 4: The Sentient Machine
Tachyon had been working on a new invention. She had been working on it for weeks, in secret, because she knew that if anyone found out what she was doing, they would try to stop her.
She was building a pair of racing shoes that could think for themselves.
The idea had come to her in a dream. A pair of shoes that could adjust their own grip, their own speed, their own balance, in real time. A pair of shoes that would never let the wearer fall. It was brilliant. It was revolutionary. It was probably a terrible idea.
She finished them on a Friday.
She put them on.
They ran.
The shoes took off across the lab, carrying Tachyon with them, and she screamed in surprise as she was dragged through the door, down the hall, and out into the courtyard. Students scattered. A bench was knocked over. A tree was narrowly avoided.
Cafe was sitting on the steps of the main building, drinking a cup of coffee. She watched as Tachyon was dragged past her, her expression unchanged.
"Good morning," she said.
"CAFE HELP ME," Tachyon shouted, already disappearing around a corner.
Cafe took another sip of her coffee. She stood up. She walked after Tachyon.
It took her twenty minutes to find them. The shoes had finally run out of energy in the middle of the track field, and Tachyon was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, the shoes still on her feet.
"I have made a mistake," Tachyon said.
"Yes," Cafe said.
"I thought I could control them."
"You thought wrong."
Tachyon looked up at her. "Can you help me take them off?"
Cafe knelt down and examined the shoes. They were sleek and metallic, with a complex system of straps and buckles that seemed to shift and move on their own.
"How do they come off?"
"I do not know," Tachyon said. "I did not design a release mechanism."
Cafe looked at her.
"I was very focused on the functionality," Tachyon said, defensively.
Cafe sighed. It was the same small, quiet sigh she had used when she put out the fire. She sat down next to Tachyon on the grass.
"We will figure it out," she said.
Tachyon leaned against her shoulder. "Thank you.
"It is what friends do," Cafe said.
They sat there for a long time, Tachyon's shoes occasionally twitching trying to run again, Cafe's hand resting lightly on Tachyon's arm. It was not a solution. But it was something.
Scene 5: The Cooking Competition
They entered the cooking competition on a dare.
Tachyon had been boasting about her ability to apply scientific principles to any field, including culinary arts. Cafe had looked at her with the same expression she always used, a mix of curiosity and mild concern.
"I can make anything," Tachyon had said.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Then prove it."
So they entered.
The competition was a disaster from the start. Tachyon approached the kitchen like a laboratory, measuring everything to the milligram, timing each step with a stopwatch, muttering about chemical reactions and optimal temperatures. Cafe moved around her like a ghost, adding ingredients when Tachyon was not looking, adjusting things that did not need adjusting, creating a quiet chaos that Tachyon could not track.
The judges were confused.
The dish was technically edible. That was the best thing that could be said about it. It was a soup, or maybe a stew, or maybe something in between. It was brown. It had a smell that was not unpleasant, but it was not pleasant either. It was simply... present.
Tachyon presented it with a flourish.
The judges looked at each other.
One of them took a bite.
His face went through a series of emotions that could not be described. He chewed. He swallowed. He sat in silence for a long moment.
"This is... interesting," he said.
Tachyon beamed.
Cafe stood beside her, her hands folded, her expression serene. "I told you," she said, very quietly.
"Told me what?"
"That you could not do it."
"I did it," Tachyon said. "They are eating it."
"They are eating it because they are polite."
"That is still eating."
Cafe smiled. "Yes," she said. "It is."
Epilogue: The Many More to Come
They sat on the roof of the school, watching the sun set over the track field. Tachyon was explaining her latest theory, something about the relationship between speed and time, and Cafe was listening, her head resting on Tachyon's shoulder.
"I have been thinking," Tachyon said.
"About what?"
"About us. About how we met. About how strange it is that we are friends."
"Is it strange?" asked Cafe.
"Yes," Tachyon said. "You are a ghost. I am a scientist who sets things on fire. We should not work."
"But we do."
"Yes," Tachyon said, softly. "We do."
Cafe closed her eyes. "I am glad I met you."
"I am glad I met you too."
They sat in silence, the sky turning gold and pink and purple, and the world felt very small and very large at the same time.
"I think there will be more misadventures," Cafe said.
"I know there will be," Tachyon said. "I am already planning them."
"Good."
"Good."
And there were.
The end!