Two massive interwoven beings, lighting up the way as they travel through interstellar darkness. Each a chorus of individual voices, complementing each other, talking, singing, of curiosity, knowledge, pain and despair. A thousand alien worlds reflected in a billion realities. Endless yet finite. New variables, new experiences, new knowledge, then hopelessness and utter annihilation. A cycle of resilience—

A blue-haired boy, brimming with curiosity, enthusiasm and hope. An adult, still curious, still fascinated, still enthusiastic in the face of infinity. Then an old man, the universe in the palm of his hand, cynical, weary, lonely. Alien world after alien world, to aid, to elevate, to rule, to destroy. Earth after Earth, all interchangeable, truly endless, senseless, meaningless—

A simulacrum, a likeness, imperfect but dangerous all the same. A parasite for a parasite, a brain to infect a brain. A connection, a transfer to imprint—

"…be fine, Mr. Hebert."

"I'm not going to leave my daughter—"

I blinked my eyes open with a groan.

"Taylor? Taylor! Are you okay?"

The voice was a familiar one. I turned my head to the blurry sight of a man pushing another person aside to approach me. Blurry… I needed to fix that at some point.

"Dad?" I croaked.

He grabbed my hand in his as he sat beside me, "Yes, Taylor. It's me dear."

I wetted my lips, "My glasses?"

"Oh, of course."

A few moments of frantic movement later and my glasses were placed in my stretched hand. The world jumped into clarity as I put them on. I examined my surroundings, white room, curtains…

I was… in a hospital bed?

The preceding events flooded to my mind.

Oh God.

I turned to Dad for the first time.

Oh, Dad.

The sheer misery and exhaustion visible on his face was heart-wrenching.

I pushed myself back, sitting up, and squeezed his hand with a smile, "Hey, Dad."

Somehow that had the exact opposite effect of what I had intended. He looked even more miserable than a moment ago. Still, he gave back a strained smile.

"Hey, Taylor."

Someone cleared his throat.

I turned to see a man awkwardly standing a distance away.

"Hello, Miss Hebert. I'm detective Stephens." he displayed a badge, "Can I—"

"For God's sake, at least let her rest a little before interrogating her." my father interrupted.

I stared at the man standing in front of me.

Huh, never thought I would get the police involved in my bullshit.

"Uh, sorry. Of course—"

"No, it's alright." I turned to Dad and squeezed his hand again. I took a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

Dad stared at me for a moment, but eventually, with obvious reluctance, he nodded.

I turned to the detective and after answering his questions, in as much detail as I could, I spilled out the story that I had been holding to myself and myself only. Strangely, I spoke coherently, without bursting into tears. My voice didn't break even when I described the locker. Dad didn't interrupt when I dropped the bullies' names. I didn't turn to see his reaction, only returning the squeeze he gave my hand.

"And you saw them push you into the locker?" the detective asked at one point.

I hesitated for only a heart-beat. No, I hadn't actually seen who had pushed me. But that hardly mattered.

"Yes, I saw them with my own eyes." I replied.

"Alright," the detective sighed, "Well, Miss Hebert, I'll put together a case and uh- contact your father if I had any more questions." he paused, "I'll make sure you'll get your justice."

I smiled at the man, "I'm sure you will, sir. Thank you."

He gave a terse nod and turned away to leave the room.

Yeah, that was unlikely. But I did hope I was wrong, if only so I would have less problems to deal with later, seeing that I was still going to murder them if they weren't punished after all.

Dad drew me into a surprise hug. After a moment's hesitation, I returned the hug.

Huh, that had been a surprisingly nice experience. I felt lighter after my rambling speech than any time I remembered before.

Right. Other pressing issues to deal with.

The ride home was spent mostly in silence. I spent the majority of the time thinking about how I would deal with the alien parasite. Well, except the short time I spent thinking about the nature of the simulacrum. I knew it had been designed in a way to cause the least backlash in my mind. I knew that, and I agreed with the approach – which of course meant everything was working correctly.

Had it changed me into a different person? Maybe. But so would have the parasite – so it could still – and apparently that had been an entirely separate event. Besides, it was only an academic question now. There had been no malevolent intent behind the simulacrum, and even if that wasn't the case, there was little I could do to reverse the effect – not that I wanted to. It mattered as much that it had changed me as any other random event that had changed me. I was me, now. End of discussion.

That, of course, didn't mean I wanted any other element out of my control – especially anything as seemingly unintelligent and alien as the parasite – to cause changes in my personality for whatever alien reason it wanted to.

The reason, as far as I understood, it was a sort of… experiment.

Why me, though? I had no clear answer to that yet.

Regardless, I had little in the way of a solution. I had nowhere near the equipment I needed to build something that could close a wormhole. I would have them, eventually, but it couldn't possibly be that difficult to cut the thing off. But for now, the problem boiled down to 'I need more data'.

And I needed a bit of assistance. I sighed. Well, that was something else to work on. It would be fun, at least.

"Taylor?"

I turned to Dad. He hadn't taken his eyes off the road.

"Yes, Dad?"

He didn't say anything. I noticed his hands tightening around the wheel. The silence stretched, five seconds, ten seconds then more.

"I…" he visibly swallowed, "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I should've… I should've noticed that something was wrong."

I stared at the distraught man I had lived with for all of my life. The exhaustion on his face had now taken a more familiar shape.

I sighed.

"It's alright Dad. I should've told you before. I just…" I turned away to look at the passing buildings through the window, "I guess I was being irrational."

Another minute passed in silence before I turned back to look at him again. He still looked terse, worried.

"I don't blame you, Dad."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "I know you don't. It's just…" he sighed, "A better parent would've noticed, would've… acted a little…" he trailed off.

I stared a moment then shook my head and leaned back in the seat, looking out through the windshield.

"You're right." I could see him wince from the corner of my eye, "It doesn't matter though. There's no point in beating yourself up the way that you do." I glanced at his grimacing face, "I know why you weren't a… better parent. It's alright. I understand. Don't worry. We'll be fine."

We would be fine, and if the entire world wanted to fight me on it, I would make sure that I won.

It took him a while to respond, but eventually he nodded and smiled faintly.

"Yeah, we'll be fine… We'll fight this thing together in court, I promise."

I smiled at him, "Sure Dad, sure."

It was very late by the time we arrived home. We had made the decision to eat out tonight, and after that we had taken a detour around the city. It had been strangely calming. So much so that I had almost fallen asleep in the car.

Still, when we finally got home and I stepped into my room and closed the door, I felt fully awake. I couldn't contain my excitement. Oh, this was going to be nice.

I wasn't going to sleep tonight.

I stepped toward my old computer. It took forever to turn on, but I had to be patient if I wanted to make this thing work. The interface was wrong, the bandwidth was way too limited, and I didn't have the basic tools I needed for this, but I would make it work.

I stayed up all night working on the project. There were way too many things that I had to write up from scratch and there were way too many resources I didn't have that I had to… acquire.

I also resolved to buy a better computer and a better internet connection as soon as possible. But what I had would have to do for now.

Light was streaming through the window by the time I was finally done. I stretched in my seat. My fingers hurt.

"Okay, now we wait."

I didn't go to school that day, or the day after that. Dad didn't comment on it when I went down for dinner. We didn't talk about the bullying or school or anything like that. We only talked about random things. I expected him to eventually get to it but he hadn't just yet.

Well, the longer he delayed it the better it would be for me.

On the third day, I woke up early in the morning, ate breakfast, took a shower and got ready to go out. All the while Dad sat there with a disturbed expression on his face.

"I'm going to the library, Dad."

"Oh," he gave a nervous laugh, "do you want me to give you a ride?"

That would've been really nice. Alas, I would have to learn patience sooner or later.

I smiled at him and ran up to him, giving him a short hug, "No, Dad. I'll be alright."

I ran toward the bus stop with a spring in my step. God, I could barely stop myself from screaming. It took forever for the bus to finally get to the library. When it did and I entered the library I rushed toward a computer, barely managing to keep a modicum of civility in the process.

I took a breath as I sat down.

"Alright." I whispered to myself.

I opened a web browser, and entered an address in the address bar. The website prompted for a password, which I barely managed to enter correctly in my excitement. When it finally opened, I clasped my hands and held my breath as I stared at the pitch-black screen.

A few seconds passed, then…

Hi Taylor! How are you?

I did not squeal like a little girl, no matter what the librarian might say.