Chapter 2: Camouflage

Mohinder–"Perhaps one of the most impressive adaptations to come out of evolution is that of camouflage. The weaker creatures developed unique patterns that work as illusions so they may hide from the stronger predators. Perhaps nature is much stronger and smarter than we believe."

Claire Bennet and Harmony Miller–Special Ed School, Odessa, Texas

As Claire was coming back to the room where Harmony was, she saw smoke. "Oh great. Just when I leave–Harmony! Harmony! Are you ok?" She ran into the room and gasped. The whole room was on fire, but Harmony was flying above the flames, with large, red wings sprouting out of her back. She looked down on the cheerleader with a flat look on her face.

After the initial reaction of fear and confusion, Claire gulped her emotions down. "OK," she thought, "This may be some sort of demon child, but I'm still in charge. I got this invincible power, and I got to use it. If something happens to her, I can forget about college." She took a deep breath . . . and then she realized she didn't smell smoke. Why wasn't the alarm going off anyway? Well, that didn't change that she had to do something. She stood up in a chair and reached her arms out to the girl.

"What are you doing?" a voice said behind her.

"Get out of here!" Claire said as she turned around, but in a split second the fire was gone. Claire looked around in shock. Nothing was burned. The teacher who Claire met at the beginning was looking at her oddly. Claire stepped off the chair, her lips moving, trying to think of something to say that didn't make her look crazy. "Sorry, I-I-uh . . ."

"You're two hours are up, Miss Bennet."

"Yes. Thank you." She turned around. Harmony was sitting there with the blocks. Everything looked like it was supposed to. "I-I . . . guess I'll see you next week, Harmony." She left feeling dreadfully confused about everything.


Zack–Odessa, Texas

Zack knocked on the door of a rather shoddy house just on the edge of a wood. A woman with tangled hair who looked like she hadn't slept in days answered. "Hi," he said. "Um, is Gavin around? I'm one of his friends from school."

"Friends?" the woman said in mild surprise.

"Yeah. I mean, he doesn't know me too well, but I'd like for him to think of me as a friend."

"Well, he's in the den working on his calculus homework."

"Calculus," Zack muttered to himself. He hadn't quite gotten to that branch of math yet. He came in and saw Gavin hunched over a piece of paper. "Hey Gavin. How's it going?"

"Get lost, Zachary," Gavin replied, not even looking up from his paper.

"Honey, don't chase him away. He's trying to be friends," his mother whispered. "I'll make you boys some cookies."

"You know, Gavin, you can call me Zack. Everybody else does," Zack said.

Gavin gave him a look. "I don't think so."


Gabriel Bonhomme–Somewhere in Los Angeles

Gabriel could hear the speeding cars and feel the grass and hard earth beneath him as he opened his eyes. "Maybe I was sleepwalking again," he thought. "How? I've been taking my medicine. I haven't been sleepwalking in years." He got up and looked around. This didn't look familiar at all. He looked behind him and saw a skyline that didn't have the Eiffel Tower. Where was he? All the cars were going so fast, and he didn't see any people to ask questions. He started to hyperventilate and groan, thinking, "Ou sais-je? Ou sais-je? Je suis perdu! J'ai peur. J'ai peur!" (Where am I? I'm lost! I'm afraid!)

He finally decided that the only way he could get any answers is to head toward the city. He very cautiously made it across the median toward the skyline. He came to a point where it stopped, and that made him troubled. He couldn't find a way to cross. He took a closer look at a road sign. "Les Anges? Le Bois de Houx?" (The Angels? Hollywood?) "San Francisco?" They were names that sounded familiar. He processed the information and remembered from his encyclopedia experience that they were all cities in California. "Non! C'ette impossible!" (No! It's impossible!) "I'm in America!"


Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan

After the work day, as soon as he came home, Hiro wrote excitedly into his blog.

"O.O /\/\ I can't believe it! My niece has powers too! Little Hanami, I saw her do telekinesis, just like Jean Grey. The sad part about it is her parents don't want me to see her much anymore. They're afraid she's going to be a hikikomori. Now that I have all these questions swimming around in my head, it's terrible.

"Maybe I should slow down. I went to see her yesterday afternoon after I wrote that last blog, but my sister, her mother, told me she didn't want me sharing comic books with her anymore. See, Hanami has a demon that keeps her from speaking or being close to people. I think it's a good demon because he lets her get close to me, but I understand if her parents want to be close to her too. Still, it made me sad. Today I stopped by to see her through the window, and I saw her parents try to take her away. Now she keeps asking me for the time, and I never understood why. She saw me and asked for it again, but it hit me this time. She didn't want to know the time. I thought she knew that I could control time, and she wanted me to use my power. She must have sensed a mysterious aura around me. And I nearly did, but then she used her powers first. She looked over at her mother and pushed her against the wall just by looking at her. Then she made the window open by itself and started reaching for my hand.

"Oh, and I need to tell you about this. I saw me in the future! I look pretty cool, but I still looked troubled. Anyway, he, well I, not me but the other me, made time go backwards to before Hanami used her powers. And then he, well I, the other me, told me that it was not her time yet. So I was wrong. She knew she had powers, and she was waiting on me to tell her when she could use hers. And I asked him, well me, when her time will come, and he, well I, said it will be when there is a rainbow around the moon. Is that even possible? It must be very rare.

"But isn't this cool? I knew this demon was a good one. It gave her powers. I need to train her, help her level up and get control of it. I could be like Mr. Fantastic or Mr. Incredible. I can't think of anyone better to be superheroes with than with my little niece."

Hiro felt better after putting this down. He looked at postings from his previous blog entries. He has hundreds of friends all over the world who posted on his blog daily. Now it's the way of how most of his new friends in America communicated with him. As he scrolled up further, he saw a post that made him pause. "Hiro, can you please come to America? Mom has a very dangerous job to do, and I think I need your help to keep them safe. –Micah."

"Why not?" Hiro thought. "If I can't help train Hanami now, I might as well keep my hero skills in top form." He turned off his computer and called Ando, but he got a busy signal. "Maybe he found another girl to look at. You'd think he'd learn his lesson with Nikki. Oh well. I'll go by myself. It probably won't take too long, and I'm sure Micah's family will take care of me. I don't think I need the sword. Do I? Micah said it was dangerous. Well, if I need for it, I'll come back for it." He turned off everything in his house and pocketed his cell phone. Then he walked outside. He closed his eyes and pictured what he remembered of Las Vegas. He concentrated on his mental pictures very, very hard. Then, he tensed every muscle in his body, held it for a few seconds, and then relaxed.

When he opened his eyes, he saw sunlight. He was on a sidewalk in what was clearly downtown in a big American city. First he had to make sure he hadn't overshot and went several days in the future. So he stopped a pedestrian. "Excuse please, what is the day?"

"Uh, it's Wednesday," she answered.

"No, no, what day, month?"

"Oh, the date." She told him.

"That's it!" Hiro thought. He went further down the sidewalk, threw up his hands, and screamed, "YATAA! HELLO LAS VEGAS!"

"Uh, you're off by a few hundred thousand miles," a pedestrian said. "This is Los Angeles."

"Oh . . ." Hiro said. He clearly hadn't gotten the hang of things quite yet.


Peter Petrelli--New York

Peter went back to the nursing home. He looked around until he found the pianist alone in a room. He had a pad of paper and was drawing something. Peter came in. "Hey, Piano Man. I hope you don't mind if I call you that. I don't really have anything else to go on. You may not remember me, but my name is Peter. I saw you in Central Park, and you're amazing. Listen, I know you're all alone here and you don't have a home. Not a whole lot of people are doing much to help, but I want to help. I'm doing to do the best I can to find your home and your family, and until I do, if you don't mind, I want to be your family."

The man never looked up or stopped drawing. If Peter didn't know any better, he'd think that the guy didn't even hear him. Peter went closer to him and knelt down to his eye level.

"Do you understand what I'm asking? I don't know much about idiot savants or autism or anything, but I saw 'Rain Man' five times, and I watched it again last night for good measure. I don't want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable, but I really do want to help."

He still didn't look up.

Peter whispered, "I'll get a piano. You can play on it all day."

The man yanked the page off and pushed it over to Peter. Peter looked at it. "Hey, that's me." It was a picture of the man playing at Central Park and Peter stopping to talk to him. "But you didn't even look at me. How did you–?"

Piano Man pulled off the rainbow bracelets on his hand.

"Yeah. I saw that. This must be how you spent the money I gave you." But when Piano Man handed him the bracelet, it turned into $10 in Peter's hands. "This is the money I gave you. So you are–?"

The man bowed his head. Peter spotted a strange mark on his neck that looked like a couple of tiny parallel lines.

"Oh, they got you. You're one of us!"

For the first time, the man looked up at Peter just for a second in amazement. Then just as suddenly he looked back down.

"Yeah, I know people who have that mark who've been through what you've been through. And just between you and me, I can do those things too." He put the money in his right hand, made a fist, closed his eyes, and pictured how it used to look. When he opened his eyes and his hand, the bracelet was back. He handed it to Piano Man. "I guess I can help you in more ways than one. But, like I said, I don't want to deviate from your routine. I mean, if you want to stay here, that's fine."

Peter got up to leave, but then he felt a tug on his hands. Piano Man was still looking down, but he had grabbed Peter's hand.

"OK, I'll take that as a yes. I just got to do a few things, make my apartment habitable for two people, get an ok from my landlord, that sort of thing. It won't take long." Peter left feeling really good. Even flying didn't have the exhilaration that he got from helping people.


Around 8:00, traffic was soon bumper to bumper, and Gabriel was able to get across the street safely. He walked alone, not getting anywhere. He was hoping to meet someone who wasn't American who could tell him where to go. He was kinda hoping he could find his way to Las Vegas and find Micah. He didn't figure there were a lot of people in Las Vegas named Micah. He could probably straighten everything out, he was that smart.

When he made his way to civilization, he went into the nearest convenience store to look for a map. He walked through the aisle, browsing through something. He finally found some road maps by the counter. He pulled out one for California and one for Nevada, but looking at the two of them just made him more confused.

"He, cette n'est pas une biblioteque!" (Hey, this is not a library!) the storekeeper suddenly barked at him.

Gabriel looked up at him in astonishment. "Parlez-vous francais?" (You speak French?)

The man scoffed. "What's that got to do with anything? You being funny?"

"Non, monsieur, I did not intend to be amusant (funny). It only surprises me that you, as an American, speak French so well."

"Since when does English sound like French to you?" the man answered as he leered at Gabriel.

Gabriel shook his head. What was going on here?

"Look kid, the only language I really speak is money. Unless you start talking my language, you're gonna have to put those maps down, huh?"

"Oh." Gabriel dug into pocket but could only find his student ID. "Je suis desole, monsieur. I have no money, and I will leave you alone. Au revoir."

He thought he heard the guy mutter as he walked out, "Tourists."


"So, how are you doing in Calculus?" Zack asked after a long period of silence.

"I'm ok," Gavin answered.

"Well, you're better than me. What science are you taking?"

"Physics."

"And you're English course?"

"Brit lit. We're reading Beowulf next week."

"Aren't you a Junior?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you taking Senior-level courses?"

"I was following a different path before I moved here, and they kept me on it."

"Is it too stressful for you, keeping up?"

Gavin stared at him.

"Listen, Gavin, I know something's up with you. You've been troubled about something. I want you to consider me a friend, 'cause I want to help you."

"Well, I think you should keep your nose out of my business."

Zack was silent for a moment, taken aback. "Alright, I'll respect that. If you ever change your mind and you want to talk, just let me know." He got up to leave, but as he walked out the door, he heard somebody clear their throat behind him. He turned around and saw Gavin's mother.

"Sorry about him. He's always had social issues since his father left just after the diagnosis."

"Diagnosis?"

"He has Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Other Specified. PDD-NOS. It basically means we tested him for everything and nothing quite fits." She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "There is something I'm very concerned about. It's in his room."

"You think I should see? OK." He followed her back in.


As Gabriel continued to meander, a rather fancy car pulled up in front of him and stopped. Gabriel started to walk around, but somebody came out and approached him.

"Bonjour Gabriel, n'est-ce pas?" (. . . is it not?) He was a very tall man in a trench coat, blond hair, horned rimmed glasses, and a smile so big it was kinda creepy. Gabriel backed away. There was something about this guy he didn't like. "N'ayez pas peur. Je ne vais pas vous blesser. Je veux etre votre ami." (Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to be your friend.)

There was something different about the way the way he was talking. Gabriel couldn't explain it, but he could tell the man wasn't speaking genuine French. "I know you're faking," Gabriel said. "You're mispronouncing it."

The man laughed. "You got me. I was hoping to make you more comfortable."

"Who are you? How do you know who I am? Are you a spy?"

"That's not important."

Gabriel gulped. That probably means he is a spy. "What do you want with me?"

"What I want is not as important as what you want."

Gabriel started to walk away, but the man with glasses got in his way. He smiled and put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "I know this is a frightening time for you. You feel paranoid, like everyone's out to get you. But I'm one of the good guys, alright? I know things. What do you want to do with your life, Gabriel?"

Gabriel didn't know why he told this stranger his dream, or why he even thought about telling him, but he did. "It's silly. You'll laugh."

"No, go ahead. Tell me."

"I want to win the Nobel Prize."

The man smiled even bigger and he nodded. "That's ambitious. I like that. What field? Chemistry? Peace? Literature? Economics?"

"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet. Probably not literature."

"Well, Gabriel, I got a plan that involves you. You, Gabriel, can change the lives of millions of people for the better. Join me, and I promise you, I guarantee you, you will win the Nobel."

"You're going to make me a guinea pig?"

"No, no, not at all. You're going to be my partner. And I'll give you all the credit in the end, the entire claim on the idea. What do you say?"

Gabriel once again stared into space. The boy almost wanted to go with him and take up his offer, but part of him wanted to break into a run. Eventually, his dislike and distrust of Americans won over his curiosity. "Leave me alone, American spy!" he yelled and he ran away.

"Hey! Come back here!" the man in horned rimmed glasses yelled. Gabriel never looked back, so he couldn't see that the man was right on his heels.

Suddenly, Gabriel was in an alley rather than a sidewalk. An Asian man pushed him against a wall and covered his mouth. Gabriel was terrified; he thought he was getting mugged. The man ran past. After it was certain that he was gone, the Asian let Gabriel go. "Je suis desole," he said meekly as he bowed.

"Well, thank you, but I think I could have gotten away by myself."

The Asian man looked at him in wonder and smiled very big.

"What?" Gabriel said.

"You speak Japanese!"

Gabriel gaped at him. "What?! Are you kidding? Non! I don't speak Japanese! I am French! I'm speaking French! You're speaking French too!"

The Asian man's eyes grew bigger. "You mean you think you are speaking French, but you're really speaking Japanese?"

"Well . . . that's what it seems like."

"And it sounds like I'm speaking French to you, although I'm really speaking Japanese, right?"

"I guess so."

He gasped. "It's like you have a universal translator, like on 'Star Trek!'"

Gabriel rolled his eyes at the sci-fi reference. "Pardon, but I prefer science fact to science fiction."

"It's got enough basis in fact. Here, let me test it out," the Asian stranger said. "I work for a software translator company. I've gleaned a few things from major languages. I'll say a few phrases, and you tell me what I say, ok?"

"Um, alright."

"The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog."

It sounded meaningless, but Gabriel said it anyway.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Gabriel repeated that. "Little bird, pretty little bird, little bird, I will pluck your feathers." Gabriel knew that one; it was the chorus to "Alloette." "Hear oh Israel, the Lord thy God, the Lord is one." Gabriel knew that was from Deuteronomy 6. Then the Asian man said something that just sounded like a string of gutturals. Gabriel just gave a disgusted look and moved back. "Well, what did I say?"

"Just a bunch of gibberish that got spit all over me."

"That was Klingnon, probably the foreign language I know the best."

"Oh, well that's not a real language."

"It is too! Real linguists developed it!"

"So it's man made. Nobody but Star Trek geeks speak that, not real people."

The Asian man suddenly gave him a weird look. He came toward him, and he had his mouth open as if something was just on the tip of his tongue.

"What is it? Is something wrong? You're starting to scare–"

"Run," he said softly.

Gabriel turned around and ran.

"No! No, no, no!" the Asian man called back. "I just said it in computer. I gave you the command for 'run' in ones and zeroes. You even translated that, and that's not a real language."

"Oh, uh well . . ."

"It's ok. You're amazing. I ought to tell my father about you. He'd hire you in a second."

Gabriel laughed bashfully. "Well, if you're done robbing me--"

"I wasn't robbing you! You looked like you needed help, so I helped you."

"Oh. Thanks then. Anyway, I got to head for Las Vegas."

"That's where I'm going."

"Really? Do you mind if I ride with you?"

"Oh, sorry. I don't have a car, either."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "I guess we could walk together."

"That will be good. My English-speaking friend isn't here, so I need someone who can speak English and Japanese to come with me."

"I told you, it's French!" But as he looked at the man and his confused expression, he softened a little. "But . . . I guess if we understand each other, it is enough."

The Asian stranger paused and held up his hands. "Right. I know enough English to get by, but it will be better this way."

"What are you wanting to do in Vegas? Hit the casinos?"

"No, I'm going to see my friend Micah."

"Micah? That's who I'm going to see!"

"Micah Sanders?"

"I don't know his last name. I only met him on the Internet. But that's probably it. I don't think there are many Micahs, even in a place like Las Vegas. My name is Gabriel, by the way."

"My name is Hiro Nakamura."

"Nice to meet you, Hiro," he said in a rather detached voice.


Gavin's room looked like a scene from "A Beautiful Mind." All around the walls, there were newspaper clippings and pictures of various people. Several Zack recognized right away as belonging to Jackie. There were a few near hers of a waitress from Midland that Zack had heard of. He saw many more of a Vegas tycoon, a comic book artist, and a New York politician. Most of them Zack didn't recognize.

"Gavin told me all these people have something in common," his mother explained. "He says they've all been murdered, most of them by the same killer. Gavin's always had a morbid curiosity. He asked me all sorts of questions about death and people who died even when he was little. Sometimes I wonder how such questions even occur to him. Ever since Jackie was killed last year, he's become more withdrawn, and more . . . . obsessed with the topic."

"It may just be a rumor," Zack said, "but I've heard that Gavin had a huge crush on Jackie in the fifth grade."

Gavin's mother nodded. "I remember that. She broke his heart, tore up love notes in front of his eyes, laugh at him behind his back. I think that's part of the reason that he's become so anti-social. He's learn not to trust people like Jackie."

"You think he's taking her death hard? You think he might be a danger to himself or others."

The mother sadly nodded, and a tear silently dripped down her cheek. "Yes, I do."


As Claire came into her new home, the first thing she saw was her father on the phone in the kitchen. He was silent for a while because he was listening. Claire was extra-quiet because she knew every call her father got these days was tremendously important. Finally he said, "Alright. Thanks for keeping me posted. I'll contact you soon. My associate and I may come down ourselves in a few days. Goodbye."

"Has he been sighted?" Claire said softly as he hung up the phone.

"Claire, we discussed this. We can't talk about it in the open."

"Mom and Lyle aren't here, are they?"

"No, your mother was taking Mr. Muggles to a doggie spa, and Lyle had soccer practice."

"So we're alone, then? We can talk about it, can't we?"

Mr. Bennet sighed. "Yes, he was sighted. Thankfully, however, he's far away, for now. He's still in New York."

"I still don't understand. We all saw what happened. We saw him–"

"It's happened before, Claire. Frankly, I'm not surprised."

"Dad, while we're on the subject, I'm concerned about the girl I had to watch today at the special ed school."

"For your project?"

"Yeah. She's . . . well, I think she's . . . like my family. My other . . . weird family."

"She has abilities?"

"Yeah, but she's also severely autistic. I don't think she's got a good handle on them."

"You know, if I were still with the Company, I would know just who to talk to. He oversees a branch across the pond."

"You mean, in another country?"

"England, to be exact. Autism kinda is his speciality. I only met him a couple of times. I've always had a feeling that he had an . . . agenda. We might actually have to keep our eye out for him." Bennet groaned. "One thing at a time!"

"Well, what can I do?"

"You might have to do what Claude did. Take her under your wing. Give her reason to trust you. Maybe train her, some, teach her control."

"How do I do that?"

Bennet made a sharp gesture indicating that she should stop talking. "And whatever you do, don't let her fall into the Company's hands." He started to walk out of the room, and turned around before he left. "Maybe you can start by giving her a present."


Gabriel and Hiro both walked down a desert road. They talked a little, but after a while they both got tired and thirsty. As evening was setting in, a pickup truck stopped by them. "Hey, you guys need a lift?" the driver asked.

"Non, merci," Gabriel replied.

At the same time, Hiro cried, "Yes please!" He was louder than Gabriel.

The boy tugged his arm. "I don't know about you, but I don't have any American currency. I don't even have any Euros."

"Ah, don't worry about it!" the driver said. "It's on the house."

"Uh, what house, sir?" Gabriel asked.

The guy shrugged. "I mean it's free. Nobody deserves to walk down a road like this at this time of day. Where you kids headed?"

"Las Vegas," Hiro replied.

The driver gave a concerned groan. "That's quite a ways away. Well, I'll at least get you started. You can get in the bed. Just lay low so the cops won't see ya."

So they did. Back there they started talking.

"So, how do you know Micah?" Gabriel asked.

"I met him last year," Hiro answered. "I saved his father's life. I saw him again in New York. And we have things in common."

"Like what?"

"Well, we're both fans of 'The Ninth Wonders.'"

"I've never heard of that."

"It's a manga."

"A comic book? Micah never told me he was interested in comics."

"Where do you know him from?"

"He's my internet ami."

"Internet? Cool. Do you have a blog?"

"No. I mainly go on there for chatting and message boards. I've thought about keeping a blog, but I've never been good at writing a diary."

"Well, I have a blog. You don't have to be on a friends' list to comment on it, so you can go see it."

"Maybe I will."

Hiro yawned and closed his eyes. "I'm tired. I might try to go to sleep back here."

"Good luck," Gabriel said. But the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. It was probably better sleeping in the back of the truck than on the ground. "I might try to sleep back here, too, but I need to warn you about something."

"What?"

"You need to keep an eye on me because I sleepwalk sometimes."

"Alright. Well, I'll try."


Peter browsed through a piano store downtown. He examined a grand piano in the corner of the store. It was very dusty, but when he lifted the cover on the keys, they looked in good condition. He played a note at random. It sounded in tune. Then, suddenly, he sat down and began playing "Claire de Lune."

"You play well, sir," a salesman said behind him.

Peter stopped suddenly and turned around. "Uh, actually, I don't . . . often."

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I understand that you donated a piano for the autism research auction the other day?"

"The one that went bust? Yeah. We took it back."

"Well, I'm here to buy a piano."

"Young man, that one you were just playing is probably the cheapest one we have, and it's $5000."

"Can I . . . rent it?"

The salesman laughed long and hard about that.

"It's OK. I'll buy it. I can get the money."

"Really?"

"My brother just happens to be Congressman Nathan Petrelli."

"Didn't he disappear just after the election?"

"Yes," Peter said sadly, not looking the salesman in the eye.

"Personally, I still can't believe he won. I didn't vote for him, and nobody I knew voted for him."

Peter decided to interrupt that train of thought quick. "Still, I'm from a powerful and wealthy family. I can get the money."

"Well, if that's your situation, I'm sure we can deal with it. Where do you live, a townhouse?"

"I got an apartment."

The salesman laughed again. "How are you going to get it in?"

"I'll let your movers decide." With that, Peter walked on.


"So how did you get here if you didn't have a car?" Gabriel asked Hiro.

Hiro decided that if they were going to travel this long, he might as well tell Gabriel the truth. "I teleported, like 'Star Trek.'"

Gabriel shook his head. "Again with the 'Star Trek,'" he thought. "Cette impossible!" he said aloud. "No, wait." He stopped and thought for a moment. He recalled a passage from Suresh's book that said that one could bend the time/space continuum to his will if he had the evolutionary gene. One who is capable of that can teleport to any place he so chooses or go backwards and forwards in time. "I believe you. If Chandra Suresh says it's possible, it must be. After all, his son proved it. But if you were going to Las Vegas, how come you wound up in California?"

"I don't know, exactly. It still takes some work. Maybe I didn't visualize it close enough. Or maybe I teleported there to meet you."

"How can that be? You don't even know me."

"You have to admit, if I wasn't there, you would have been caught by that bad man, that villain."

"Non, I would have gotten away eventually."

"What about you? How did you get here, all the way from France, if you didn't have a car?"

"I actually don't know. I went to bed last night, and I woke up here. I'm hoping Micah might help me figure it out."

They came to a sign (not the famous, glitzy sign, just a normal road sign) that read, "Welcome to Las Vegas," but Gabriel read "Bienvenue a Les Vallees Fertiles."

"The Fertile Valleys?"

"What?" Hiro asked.

"I don't think there's a town in America called that. We are going to see Micah, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Gabriel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He thought to himself, "It's not French. It's not called 'The Fertile Valleys.' It's Spanish. It should say, 'Bienvenue a Las Vegas.' It's Las Vegas. Las Vegas. Las Vegas."

When he opened his eyes, the sign read, "Bienvenue a Las Vegas."

Gabriel laughed. "Hiro! It says 'Las Vegas!'"

Hiro gave a small smile. "Uh, yes it does."

"See Hiro, I thought about it hard enough, and it stopped translating to French. That means I'm starting to get the hang of this!"

"Oh, good!"


Peter directed some movers carrying a large piano up his steps. Right behind them, stepping into Peter's apartment for the first time, was the Piano Man. As he came in, Peter clapped his arm and said, "There's my new roomieཀ" The guy moaned and backed away. "Sorry, man, sorry," Peter said quietly.

Mohinder–"Camouflage is a unique and mysterious magic trick of nature. Those who truly master it only show us what they wish for us to see. Can we, then, ever truly sort reality from illusion?"

To be continued . . .