What drives anyone to greatness? What motivates them and excites them to act beyond the bounds of a secure, normal lifestyle? Pearl was sure that no human would sail across an unfamiliar ocean or leave the safe confines of their planet's atmosphere without a good reason. But just what does a human consider a 'good' reason?

Was it wealth? Many an explorer had set out with their nation's blessing, basking in promises of golden cities and silver fountains on vast, unfamiliar shores. But what of those that didn't get rich? Those that worked themselves into poverty for something they believed in?

Was it duty? Surely many an astronaut was compelled to launch themselves into space by some sense of responsibility, a vestigial function from their role as military personnel. But what of those outside of obligation? The ones without an organization to guide them?

Was it glory? How many have frantically chased some novel concept to get their name proudly stamped on an equation or theory? But still... what about those who passed on without ever seeing their name popularized? The van Goghs and the Teslas of the world?

Pearl rubbed her temples. And what of Alan? Just what made Alan tick? What made him get up in the morning, wash cars all day, and look ever towards some eve discovery that he wasn't even sure was there?

And, most importantly, just what can I leverage to make him accept this... preposterous proposition of mine?

Pearl was, once again, spending her morning in search of Alan. Instead of voyaging to the car-wash, however, she was undergoing a journey to the Big Donut.

Greg said that he sent Alan to get donuts. Is retrieving breakfast food for his employer one of his obligations as an attendant at the 'It's A Wash' car-wash? Perhaps he should have read his contract of employment more thoroughly.

For Pearl, the Big Donut was never the most appealing place. She imagined that the giant, cardboard pastry with metal struts adorning the roof must have seemed appetizing to the humans walking in its shadow. But, she was not human. And that giant morning snack... idol was quite unappetizing to Pearl.

"Good morning, miss Sadie. I am here for one bag of donuts."

Pearl perked at the voice.

Is that Alan? He's here already? And why am I so surprised? We traveled the same distance at different times, so of course one of us would arrive prior to the other.

Nevertheless, Pearl flattened herself against the side of the pastry shop, just out of sight of its occupants.

"One bag of donuts it is, sir! And Sadie's fine. Just Sadie."

Alan chuckled. "Al-right, 'just Sadie.' By the way, may I ask you a question? Something of a, ah... social nature?"

"You can ask me anytime! I've got all the cards, man."

Ah. It's that lanky, derisive friend of Steven's. What cards could he possibly possess that would assist in such a matter?

"Haha, yes, well... I suppose I can address the question to the both of you."

Oh, well, if he has a question then I am definitely the one most qualified to-

"What does it mean when someone you just met takes you to a library, talks to you for ten minutes, then leaves?"

Pearl's breath caught in her throat. Well, when you say it like that then it sounds like my plan was terrible!

"Probably that they like libraries?" Sadie said, accepting Alan's payment and placing a hefty bag of donuts on the counter.

"Probably that they're some weird book-lovin' weirdo or somethin' weird like that." Lars suggested, waving his arms about as though it would support the multiplicity of the word 'weird' in his sentence.

"Pearl's not that 'weird.' Relatively speaking, of course. N-not in relation to you two or anything! Relative to... nothing. Nothing at all. Nevermind."

An odd silence fell over the donut shop. Curious, Pearl peeked her head around the front window. Lars and Sadie were giving each other wide-eyed sideways glances, and Alan was looking back and forth between the two in an attempt to decipher their cryptic, non-verbal communication.

"If it was Pearl, then... well, was it something serious?"

"Yeah man, just what the heck did one of those gems want with ya?"

It was nothing serious! I just wanted to... well, what did I want? To interrogate him? To make sure he wasn't some... dunce?

Alan opted to grab his bag of donuts and start backing towards the door instead of answering their questions. He did, however, have one parting query.

"Why do you keep calling them 'gems?'"

Lars started playing with the loose, overhanging tuft that he called his hair, struggling with the right response. Sadie, much more collected and prepared than her co-worker, lifted a knowing finger into the air, opened her mouth, and-

W-wait, this isn't how this is supposed to go!

Before she could directly intervene herself, Pearl heard a loud, happy voice pierce the morning air.

"Hey Pearl!"

The Gem turned her head. Standing behind her, an enormous grin on his face and both arms waving energetically, was-

"Steven!" Pearl hissed frantically, motioning for the boy to be quiet. But it was too late. To Pearl's chagrin, Lars, Sadie, and Alan were all staring at her. Hunched over, flattened against the wall, and surely looking as ridiculous as she felt.

"Ugh," Pearl groaned, quickly straightening herself and bringing a defeated hand to her forehead. "Good morning Lars, Sadie... Alan."

"Oh, hey there, Al-ca-traz!" Steven called enthusiastically, popping out from behind Pearl with both arms still waving.

"O-oh, haha- hello Steven. It's quite the, um, coincidence. Meeting you, that is. Here."

No it's not, Steven comes here all the time.

"No it's not, I come here all the time!" Steven said, bouncing into the store.

Pearl tilted her head upward with a satisfied smirk. See?

"Pearl?" Alan questioned. "How long have you been there?"

A second. Oh, no, that's implausible, he'd never believe that. A minute? But that's more than enough time to have heard something. How about...

Alan was waiting. He was expecting a response.

...nothing untrue.

"I have been present since you gave Sadie that cordial morning greeting."

"Oh, I... see. How, um..." Alan trailed, eventually interrupting himself with a series of nervous coughs. "I should get these to Greg. Breakfast is, apparently, very important to him."

"Those are for dad?" Steven asked, dashing the short distance between the door and Alan. "D'you think maybe I could bring those to him?"

Torn for the briefest of moments between his duty to complete Greg's assignment and the lively, undeniable youth in front of him, Alan relinquished the bag of donuts to Steven, who flashed him a thankful smile and went running out of the shop.

"W-wait, Steven, don't run with all of that- ugh- breakfast dough. You might get hurt!"

"Don't sweat it, Pearl; I know all about running with breakfast dough," Steven assured, disappearing down the boardwalk towards the car-wash.

How ridiculous, Steven. I doubt there exists an entire discipline centered on running with bags of doughy circles.

Looking back into the shop, Pearl noticed that Alan was, for lack of a better word, stuck. Every time he took a step to leave, he would pause, examine the doorway, determine how small the gap was between Pearl and the door frame, and withdraw his foot to reformulate his exit strategy. It wasn't until Pearl cleared her throat in puzzlement at the odd ritual that Alan finally addressed her.

"Pearl! Yes, well, I need to head back to the car-wash and-"

"Oh, very well. I will accompany you."

"You will?" Alan asked. Pearl stepped back from the door to give him the confidence to leave the shop. "You will. Sure. Sure! Okay."

It was a sleepy morning, though the sun was already well on track to reach its zenith by noon. Most of the citizens of Beach City were either lounging in their shops or relaxing in their homes or in some other way absent from the boardwalk. The only others that Pearl and Alan encountered on the walk back were the Frymans, diligently manning Beach Citywalk Fries. Alan gave them a small wave, unsure of whether they actually knew each other yet or not. Pearl was about to echo his gesture when she came across a sight that forced her to stop. There, in front of the fry stand, in defiance of all notions of cleanliness and decency, was a donut. Upon closer inspection, Pearl made a horrifying revelation.

It's not just a donut. It's several donuts. All of them squished and- and dirt filled and- oh! As if food wasn't disgusting enough without being despoiled and all over the ground!

"Hello, miss! Would you like fries or any other potato-based dishes this morning?"

Pearl looked up at the greeting, accidentally subjecting the speaker to her repulsed gaze. It was young Peedee Fryman, who was now seriously reconsidering his decision to interrupt Pearl's morning. He forced a nervous smile. Then, seeing the mess of donuts on the boardwalk, he offered an explanation to try and abate Pearl's aghast expression.

"Ahah, yeah, so, Steven came running by here a couple o' minutes ago with a bag of donuts and sorta... fell. Sorry 'bout the mess, ma'am! I'll, um... I'll clean that up."

Peedee disappeared behind the fry stand. Looking back at the amalgam of sprinkles and filling and fried dough on the boardwalk, Pearl felt an imperfect mixture of annoyance and concern.

"Oh Steven," she chided at the donut pile, "I told you not to run! Just look at this mess. And that shirt is going to need a scrubbing."

"Do you scrub his shirts often?" Alan asked

Pearl raised an eyebrow, continuing their trek down the boardwalk and almost leaving Alan behind.

Do I what?

"Oh! No, I- I meant do you take care of him often or... something like that."

Do I take care of him?

"That's practically all I do. Though not alone or anything. Steven has something of a... support net."

"So... you are his aunt?"

His what?!

"N-no, nothing like that!" Pearl rushed to clear up the discrepancy. By very definition of the term 'aunt,' in no way may I be considered one. We're not even related!

"Then, what are you?"

The question gave Pearl pause. Not physical pause, as she was sure that they had wasted enough time on their little donut trip. But still, the Gem fell silent.

I... take care of him. I'm responsible for him. I have to make sure he grows up safe and strong and knowledgeable. But, what am I?

"That's a more common question in Beach City than you realize, Alan," Pearl said with a smirk. "So congratulations! You're fitting right in."

I'm just his... Pearl. And he's my Steven. So I have to be a good Pearl.

She glanced over at Alan, who was hiding his face by staring at the open shore.

Right. That's why I'm doing this. Well, not the only why, but one of the whys.

Pearl took in a large breath of air. When she exhaled, it was with a new sense of determination.

Pearl and Alan arrived at the car-wash in the midst of the Universe's family breakfast. Which, to Pearl, unsurprisingly, looked absolutely ridiculous. Greg was sitting atop his van, the bag of squished donuts in his hands and a wide, wide grin on his face. Steven, smiling just as large, was standing in the main driveway, trying to chew his way through the contents of his mouth as fast as he could.

"Four!" Greg yelled, throwing a donut into the air. Steven swallowed hastily and, laughing the whole way, ran after the flying, compressed disc of fried dough and sugar.

"Ready or not, pal, here comes the next!" Greg declared, digging through the donut bag for his next projectile.

"Greg!" Pearl protested, catching the man's attention mid-donut-fling. "If Steven's going to eat, then he at least needs to chew!"

Throwing a hand sheepishly behind his head, Greg issued a couple of apologetic chuckles and jumped off of the van. "Sorry, Pearl. The boy brought me these new flat donuts that they're sellin' and I just had to throw 'em! Ya know?"

Never have I had a compulsion even nearly similar to that.

"Yes, well. That's... great, Greg. But, having Steven run around and swallow food as quickly as possible? Couldn't you think of a less deadly method of satisfying your yearning for flat donut tossing?"

"Aw, don't be so hard on him, Pearl," Steven interrupted, running in between the two. "We were just playin' a game!"

Hm. Well, apparently, if I'm not hard on him, Steven, then you are allowed to consume breakfast in the most dangerous fashion you two can imagine. But, if you're that bothered by it...

"Oh! By the way Alan," Greg said, addressing the young physicist who was, at current, trying to keep himself as distant as possible from the familial conflict taking place before him, "I'm helpin' Steven out with play stuff today. You mind tendin' the shop?"

"Of course not, mist- ah, no. Greg. Of course not, Greg."

"Atta' guy! Thanks a lot, man. We'll be by the beach if ya need anythin'."

"Awesome!" Steven said, punctuating his father's sentiment. "We're gonna build the stage today. Just you wait, Pearl! It'll be the best performance venue you've ever seen!"

"Well then, I certainly look forward to seeing it," Pearl replied with a smile, waving the two goodbye. They're just going to re-use that stage we had for Beach-a-Palooza, aren't they?

Pearl glanced around for Alan, who, to her surprise, was already hard at work. Or, as hard at work as one could be at a car-wash in which there were no cars. With a clipboard in hand, Alan was walking through the cleaning equipment lying about outside, straightening a bucket or a hose every once in a while and jotting down little status notes. To her amusement, Pearl noticed that, after looking over each group of supplies, Alan would grin, ever so briefly, and write a small check mark somewhere on his sheet with a quick flourish of his pen.

Well, at least he's organized, Pearl noted, and I will admit to understanding the satisfaction of checking items off a list.

As Alan disappeared into the main wash, a plan started to form in Pearl's head.

If he is expected to run the car-wash without Greg, then perhaps he would appreciate some assistance? Yes! Definitely. Who wouldn't want their professional burden eased for a day- for free, nonetheless? And it's not as though this were a terribly involved occupation. Yes, this is a sound plan! I'll help him, his impression of me will become more favorable, and the stage will be set for my inevitable victory when I convince him to learn under me.

Pearl grinned, donning a satisfactory head-tilt at the self-perceived brilliance of her own plan. When Alan emerged from the main wash, nodding to himself and mumbling something about soap levels, Pearl sprung her offer.

"Alan! Oh, no- don't flinch, I'm not going to knock you down. Actually, I was wondering if you, perhaps, required some assistance? Not that I'm implying you're incompetent in any way, I'm sure you are quite... skilled? At, um, cleaning vehicles. But... well, who couldn't use some help every once in a while, right? Right. Of course I'm right. So... yes. Let me help you."

Alan held his clipboard close to his chest, as though it were the only thing anchoring him down in the wake of Pearl's offer. Blinking rapidly to himself, he seemed to finally grasp what Pearl was saying. "You... want to help?"

"Yes!" Pearl said. Really Alan, what did I just say? At least twice? Perhaps thrice?

"Oh. Well, that's very nice of you. As long as you're okay with it-"

"And I am. Assuredly."

"Haha, yes, um... alright. We don't really, you know, do anything unless a car comes around, so... let me grab you a chair."

The two situated themselves near the entrance of the main office; Pearl, positioning herself optimally such that no car would enter the premises without her noticing, and Alan, trying his hardest not to sit an impolite distance from Pearl.

"So, how do you know Greg?" Alan wondered. The question was asked innocently, but Pearl swallowed uncomfortably at the range of possible answers.

As long as it's not a lie... I don't have to reveal the whole truth.

"A... dear friend of mine was his wife."

"Oh! He has a wife? I haven't seen her around. Is she...?"

Silence. A noticeable absence from the conversational norm. Alan glanced at Pearl, but one look and it was obvious that the verbal response was never coming.

"I'm sorry," Alan concluded.

"It's..." Pearl trailed off with a sigh. Okay? Of course it's not okay. But... it's not like she left us here with nothing. We have a mission. A reason to act. And...

"At least we have Steven."

Alan shifted in his seat, regretting the topic of conversation he had stumbled into. Noticing his distress, Pearl waved off the imagined slight and started in on a new subject.

He seemed to enjoy speaking of his point of study. Despite how... misguided it is, it should still elicit a positive response.

"So... what motivated you to look into superluminal communication?"

Alan perked almost instantly at the question. "What wouldn't? The entire world is inexorably connected, in constant communique with itself at every hour of every day in every city, state, country, and continent! But always we are shackled by the constraints of classical communication; for every kilometer of optical cable we surrender five microseconds. In every round-trip satellite packet we resign five-hundred milliseconds. And that's not even mentioning the queuing and processing delays! But I shouldn't get ahead of myself; those last two aren't part of the set of physical limitations that can be addressed."

Pearl was drawn in by his enthusiasm. It was very familiar- the hushed intensity, the spark in his eyes, the upturned corners of his mouth. And it reminded her of a couple of arm chairs, and a small, quiet clearing, surrounded by books.

"That's why we looked to quantum teleportation in our work," Alan continued. "With it, we just might be able to surpass the limits of classical communication and reach something superluminal."

Pearl smirked. Oh, yes. I remember this. 'Quantum' teleportation... pf-hah! I shouldn't damped his enthusiasm, but...

"But even if you do manage to consistently create photonic pairs that exhibit 'quantum entanglement,'" Pearl began, stopping herself from making air quotes at the term quantum entanglement, "you still need to transport one of those photons through a huma- ahem, I mean, a 'classical' communication channel for the recipient to read it. Don't you find that... inhibitory?"

"Yes," Alan said, sinking deeper into his beat-up lawn chair. "But that's the reason this study proposed a series of entangled photonic nodes. One half of each pair would sit, semi-statically, at each end of a communication link, be it end-to-end or through some series of relays. Then, a qubit at one entangled end would instantly emerge as the same qubit at the other entangled end!"

Pearl smiled. Not a smirk, as before, but a smile. The same smile that you get when you introduce one of your favorite movies to someone and you get close to the good part. The same smile that you get when you walk through your hometown with a friend and reach an old, familiar landmark. "But...?" Pearl urged, knowing the logical thread had yet to reach its end.

"But..." Alan trailed, sighing and slouching even further into his chair. "We never found a way to induce quantum entanglement between pairs of anything at such a distance. It was..."

Alan's expression took a dour turn. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but Pearl caught it. It sucked all of the excitement out of his eyes and pulled them down, spiraling his entire face into a grimace. But only for a fraction of a second.

"...inconclusive," Alan finished. Though Pearl knew that it wasn't what he was going to say. Still, she took some satisfaction in knowing what sort of direction Alan needed.

You're going about this like a runner with all of his limbs tied together. Of course you'll never find the solution when you constrain yourself to a single dimension! But... let's save that for another time.

One question still bothered Pearl. One that she suspected would continue bothering her, even if she did glean some semblance of a response from Alan. Regardless, she asked.

"Why bother?"

Alan blinked at the question in confusion, prompting Pearl to continue.

"You spend a considerable portion of your life on one issue; one question, one field of study. You toil at it so much that it becomes an irremovable facet of your personality. And you never reach a conclusion. But, here you are- still searching, like a moth hitting its head over and over again on an unattainable source of illumination. So... why? Why are you here, hitting your head when you're not even sure it's the right light?"

"It's..." Alan began. Pearl leaned forward.

Oh! Does he actually have something to say on the matter? Has he thought about it as much as I have?

"...not really something I've thought about," he concluded, much to Pearl's very visible disappointment. Seeing her disapproval, Alan quickly moved to correct himself.

"N-not that this stuff isn't important to me! It just... feels like what I should be doing, you know? Something I should be working towards. Besides, it's fun," he said, leaning his head back. "I still remember all the late nights at the lab. Working with people as dedicated to the same problems as you are... it's nice."

Pearl thought of her fellow Crystal Gems and the long duty they shared. It is nice.

Before she could press the subject further, Pearl heard the distinct crackle of rubber-on-asphalt. A car was pulling into the wash, and the owner was rolling down his windows and glancing about to find someone to talk to. Standing with an air of professionalism, Pearl approached the vehicle.

Okay, Pearl. Time to show Alan the meaning of unsolicited assistance.

It was the end of a fruitful day of car-washing, and Pearl felt satisfied . An undue reign of organization was upon the small business- one that Pearl was certain had never been seen under the auspices of its true owner, Greg. The buckets, hoses, squeegees, and vacuums that were kept outside during the day were laid out in individual, neatly taped-off quadrants, easily accessible from any car and by any employee. A sign detailing time estimates for several vehicle size-classes, calculated by Pearl herself, hung in front of the main wash. And, of particular pride to Pearl, the computer in the main office was now automatically tracking water and cleaning formula usage per car, displaying the net profit for each vehicle as it rolled out of the car-wash. The Gem held her head high.

Not only have I organized this terrible mess that Greg calls a business, but I also got to clean! Haha! All day! And people paid us for it! Well, not me, but they paid Greg and Greg pays Alan. Thus, my cleaning secured Alan's funding. A win-win-win!

Alan was finishing his shift by running around between each station with his clip-board. Pearl grinned. Surely there were more efficient ways to maintain the status of the car-wash's supplies, but...

He seems to like it.

He finished his rounds by walking up to Pearl and giving her a small salute. "Everything's accounted for. And, I know I've said it, but... thanks. For, um, all the car-wash stuff you've done. Today. I don't think I've ever worked with such... efficiency here. N-not that I've been here that long, and one can expect that Greg would eventually have a very efficient day, but- yeah. Thank you, Pearl."

Pearl gleamed at the admiration. "No need to thank me. Just consider it a favor."

Not that the thanks were bad or anything. In fact, they were quite gratifying.

Remembering her goal, Pearl slipped the off her pair of industrial rubber gloves and dropped them- very neatly- into a nearby bucket. "Alan. Now that we have a moment, I have something of a... proposition for you."

These next few turns of conversation will decide the fate of my entire plan. Oh, but how should I convince him? Maybe if I lay out each positive point of my argument as it pertains to him, it will be compelling enough evidence that he has to accept. Hm. Despite how logical that sounds, it also doesn't sound like it will work at all.

Pearl waited for a response. And waited. And with each passing second, it became more obvious to her that Alan hadn't heard what she said. Instead, he was staring towards the shore, clipboard in one hand, pen lying still in the other, and gaze as distant as the day was long. Pearl sighed.

There's so much I can show you. You just... have to give me a chance. But don't you want that chance? Aren't you here looking for something?

"You wonder what else is out there, don't you?" Pearl asked. Alan was still staring away, but his head turned ever slightly towards her. "What truths there are to uncover? What mysteries to bring bare?"

"Do you?" he asked in return.

She didn't have to wonder; she'd been there.

No, that's something a different Gem would think. I've been to so many places, seen so much. But there's always something more. Something else to find.

"The truth is... I've been out there." The confession caused Alan to tear his gaze away from the shore and stare, wide-eyed, surprised, and with just the right amount of skepticism, at Pearl. "Not 'there' in the physical sense like there's some storeroom of questions and answers that I frequent. But- out there. Where nobody else's intellectual exploration has taken them on this little planet. I've seen how endless the mysteries of the universe can be- I've even unraveled some of them. But, for as much as I know, I've only taken a small sip of the boundless depths of verity just waiting for us to quench ourselves. I've been out there. And I have decided, Alan, that it is something that I want to share."

Alan was taken aback. Pearl could tell- she'd been taken aback before, and the expression was clear as day on someone as inefficient at masking emotions as Alan. She decided that the best thing to do would be to continue, to ward off any reservations he might have.

"Will you be-"

Oh, what's the proper term. Nothing so servile as 'subordinate' or 'assistant.' But it can't be some juvenile title like 'pupil,' or something that implies unhealthy devotion like 'disciple.' Ah! I know.

"-my apprentice, Alan?"

"I-"

"Wait," Pearl interrupted, "before you decide-"

There are conditions to this agreement that he needs to be aware of.

"I... can't reveal everything to you. And there are times when I will choose not to. There are things that I can't tell you. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, I under-"

"And there are things that you can't tell others. No matter how much you want to shout them at the top of every hill, mountain, and cliffside. Are you okay with that?"

Alan sighed. A look of apprehension. Pearl started to worry. Is this the deal-breaker? Publishing his findings must be important to him, but... there are some things that the rest of the world shouldn't know.

Finally, Alan spoke again, relieving both parties of their tension. "Yes. There are things you can't tell me, and there are things I can't tell anyone. I... I understand. It's a... price. But, for this...?"

Alan turned in place, stepping neatly so that he was exactly facing Pearl. His shoes clapped together. His arms fell to his sides. His eyes turned downwards, almost closing. Then, he bowed, leaning forward until the interior angle between his torso and his legs was almost exactly forty-five degrees. "I would be honored to be your apprentice, Pearl."

Hm! I didn't know he was so... old fashioned! Pearl thought, returning the gesture with as much formality as she could remember. What a refreshing attribute in a student. No- in an apprentice.

As they both straightened from their bows, Pearl took on an expression that could only be described as giddy. A smile broke out on her face, her eyes were scrunched up like she was laughing, and, if she hadn't the presence of mind to remember where she was and who she was in front of, she would have thrown her arms into the air and jumped, at least once, in achievement.

T-this is... yes! I- haha, I did it! An apprentice! Hahah! I feel like one of the old masters from way back!

Alan, much more reserved in his excitement, didn't quite look so jubilant as Pearl. But Pearl caught the look that slipped onto his face. The spark in his eyes, the small smile. And it made her even more confident in her decision. She still wasn't entirely sure what motivated Alan- what made him wade through her restrictions and grab the opportunity she presented him. But she took some solace in the fact that, whatever it was, Alan was just as hard pressed to point it out. And, whatever it was, it was a common thread between the two.

Something about the unknown, the should-be-known, pushes us.

Pearl's smile softened, losing its excitement but keeping all of its warmth. Her new apprentice was now busying himself with cleaning up all of the outdoor equipment, stumbling over a hose or two and dropping a bucket here and there. Still, she stayed smiling.

And between the two of us, I'm sure we can figure something out.