It was Mrs. Elbock who found Karl, stumbling upon him as he lay coiled and insensate in the middle of the exhibit. She tried to get him to leave the room, but failed, but where she failed, her husband managed to succeed.

"Your spores will burn everything if you keep these up," he'd said⁠.

The words got Karl to leave the room like his underbelly had been slathered with oil.

Then Mrs. Elbock went to get Dr. Rathpalla.

Ibrahim was still on edge, and seeing him like that only made Karl feel worse. Fortunately, news of Karl's distress seemed to help Dr. Rathpalla focus.

"We… we should have a talking circle, I think." He spoke as if he wasn't entirely there.

On instinct, Karl reached out to grab Dr. Rathpalla's arm, but Mrs. Elbock used her powers to push him back, creating a space for her to slither in between them.

"No," she said, "we have to do it wirelessly."

"What?" Karl asked.

"Through song," Dr. Rathpalla explained. He closed his eyes and droned a deep, rocking melody.

Something clicked in Karl's mind, telling him that all he needed to do was reciprocate the psychiatrist's song.

So he did.

To Karl's surprise, instead of being whisked away to a place of shared mental space, that space opened inside his awareness, alongside everything else. He figured the three of them could have slithered off where they liked and not lost contact, so long as they stayed within earshot of each other, but just thinking about being in two places at once like that made Karl dizzy, so he closed his body's eyes and let the core of his awareness settle into the mental space.

Besides, he loved watching the cornfields sway in the wind.

Karl, Dr. Rathpalla, and Mr. and Mrs. Elbock sat in close quarters inside the big barn next to the cornfield in Karl's summertime mind. Fink and other animals were resting in their stalls in the back, and though the smells made the Elbocks squint and make faces, the scents brought Karl comfort. They made him feel like he was a part of the world once again.

Karl sat on a hay bale. The hay had been pressed smooth, save for a few stray strands that poked up at his breeches and pressed into his thighs. The barn's wide open double doors gave a view of the cornfields in the flawless afternoon. A light breeze blew, shaking the wind chimes up in the rafters and making weather vanes creak and whirl.

Dr. Rathpalla was about to speak, when there was a knock on the open doors.

Everyone turned to look.

"Is it okay if I join?"

Jonan stood at the doorway. He looked like anyone except himself, least of all like a physician. He wore simple brown pants and a white, buttoned-up shirt. His hair was unkempt, without any trace of gloss.

"Dr. Derric…" Dr. Rathpalla said.

"Are you alright?" Karl asked.

Jonan stuck his hands in his pockets. "Not really," he said, in a meek reply.

"We're helping Karl right now," Mrs. Elbock said, as politely as she could. "If you want to talk about your feelings, that's fine, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn."

"I'm, uh… I'm not here for me," Jonan said. "I…" his lips quivered. "I'd rather not be alone right now, given…" But he bit his lip and just shook his head.

Karl patted the empty spot beside him on the hay bale. "Have a seat."

Jonan stammered. "Th-thanks." He walked up and quietly took his seat on the bale. He scooted toward the edge, as if he was worried he'd be intruding on Karl, who couldn't help but stare back.

For Karl, it was like he was looking at a completely different person. The fire that had been burning in Dr. Derric's heart had been snuffed out.

"What happened back there, Karl?" Dr. Rathpalla asked.

And Karl told them. And told them. He told them about his sketch, and his father's message. He told them about all the times Markus had boxed him on the ears, and of the pigeons he'd befriended and how, one day, without warning, his father had shot and killed one afternoon, all because of a hankering for pigeon pot pie.

"I don't know what to think about my father anymore," Karl said, at the end of a long breath. "I can count on one hand the number of happy memories I have of him. And yet…"

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It would have been difficult for Karl not to cry, had he the will to fight it.

But he didn't.

"I think you should bring Geoffrey and the others here," Dr. Rathpalla said. "Bever helped so much before."

But Karl shook his head.

"No, I… I don't want them here. Especially Geoffrey." He shuddered to think of letting Geoffrey, of all people, see him like this.

"Why not?" Mrs. Elbock asked.

"Because they're the same." Karl was despondent. He shook his head. "Both of them devoted themselves to the Third Crusade, and both of them were ruined by it. Geoffrey used Darkpox to win his victory, and it got destroyed whatever honor he had left to lose. My father used the family business to help the rebels, and the strain of it broke his nerves and made him cruel." Karl wrapped his arms around his knees. "All my life, I just wanted him to be proud of me, like how he was proud of my brothers."

"In your own way," Jonan said, "I think you succeeded. You saw what he wrote, and what he thought of you."

Karl cried. "I know! And that's what hurts the most!"

"How?" Mrs. Elbock asked.

"If I can forgive Geoffrey, shouldn't I forgive my father?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Merritt asked.

"Because…" Karl bit his lip and chewed on the insides of his cheeks. "Because I don't want to! He was awful to me! He made me feel like I was a mistake!"

Jonan nodded in understanding. "Yet you forgave Geoffrey…"

"Yes, exactly!" Karl nodded back at him. "How can I forgive him but not Markus? It wouldn't be fair. And it's good to be fair, Geoffrey says as much, and I believe him. Even so… I don't want to do it! Here I am, all the way on the other side of time, and he's still making me miserable. I…" his groaned, "what am I supposed to do with these feelings? I don't know what to do, and I hate it! I hate it so much!"

Storn raised his hand. "May I speak frankly?"

Merritt nodded. "No one's ever stopped you before."

Karl waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to raise his gaze off the floor. "You can say whatever you want, Mr. Elbock."

"Boy," Storn said, "your father is long gone. Even the dust his bones became has turned to dust. It doesn't make a damn difference whether or not you forgive him."

"But—"

Storn raised an authoritative finger. "—No, I'm talking. Karl: Markus and Geoffrey couldn't be more different. Geoffrey is still here. Forgiving him meant something; it changed what path you chose to take." Storn spread his arms. "Look around you. Is there anyone who still sides with your father, and who would agree with his choices, if given the chance?"

"No…?" Karl said.

"Then your forgiveness means nothing to anyone except you. He's dead. He can't forgive you; he doesn't feel anything at all. But you are still alive, and it's what you feel that matters here." Storn pointed his finger at Karl's chest.

"But what about Paradise?" Karl asked. "What about life after death?"

"According to Genneth, &alon has already ruined it," Storn quipped.

"But…" Karl clenched his fists. "What if someone judges me for it? What if Geoffrey judges me for it?" He spoke his next words barely above a whisper. "What if he says he doesn't deserve my forgiveness…?"

Storn crossed his arms against his red vest. "Well, now… that is a different story altogether. Forgiving someone for the sake of another… that is meaningful, but only if you let it be."

"So… what should I do?"

"Karl," Jonan said, "not every problem has a clear answer." Dr. Derric closed his eyes and shook his head. "And, even for those that do, the solution doesn't always come in one piece. Not everyone is always gonna be prepared to solve every problem that comes their way, you know? And that… well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Not knowing what to do isn't a crime." Jonan sighed. "Take it from me. I… everything used to be such a rush," he waved his hand, "hurry hurry hurry, no time to waste. But now, now I'm finally taking things slowly. And…" Wetness glistened in Dr. Derric's eyes. "I appreciate that I've got a lot of time to figure things out, 'cause I've got a feeling I'll be needing every second of it."

Dr. Rathpalla nodded. "That was very eloquent, Dr. Derric. It—"

—The psychiatrist suddenly went mum.

"Dr. Rathpalla?" Karl asked.

"It… it…"

Dr. Rathpalla's eyes widened. His swarthy face went flush. He stammered.

"I—I—I—I—"

—Then he fell to the floor, body twitching, foaming at mouth.

"Holy shit!" Jonan leapt to his feet and ran over to Dr. Rathpalla, but by the time he'd gotten there, the psychiatrist had already disappeared.

Karl immediately shifted the bulk of his awareness back into his body. He stopped singing and opened his eyes, ignoring the brief feeling of disorientation as the mental space he'd been sharing with Merritt and Ibrahim collapsed into nothing.

Jonan's spirit stood by Karl's side, as did Storn's.

Dr. Rathpalla was twitching. He'd retreated down the hallway and coiled into a nervous heap. He shook his head to and fro.

"Dr. Rathpalla, what's wrong?" Karl asked.

Ibrahim stuck out his arm. "Look! Look!"

A patch of scales on his arm was melting. Fluid trickled down Dr. Rathpalla's arm, then dropped, forming a small puddle on the floor that slowly boiled away.

"No!" Karl said, recoiling. "No no no!"

"There's no point in denying it," Ibrahim said. "I have it, whatever it is."

"There has to be something we can do!" Karl said.

Geoffrey put his phantom hand to rest on Karl's flank, but Karl moved away, slithering up to Dr. Nowston.

"Dr. Nowston, can't you help him? You're supposed to know everything, right?"

"I wish I did, kid," Brand replied.

"What do we do now?" Merritt asked.

"I don't know," Jonan said. "I doubt there's anything we can do."

"Shouldn't you guys think about restrainin' him, or somethin'?" Dr. Marteneiss suggested.

All of sudden, Ibrahim opened all six of his eyes, as if someone had just stepped on his tail.

He snarled. "Move! Out of my way!"

Karl and Merritt pulled out of the way just in time to avoid getting plowed over by Dr. Rathpalla as he slithered down the hall and around the corner.

Karl and the others followed him without hesitation.

"Dr. Rathpalla!"

The psychiatrist had slithered through the science building's front door, out onto the fungal plaza. He sat motionless at the edge of the rotting lawn, with his head and forepart raised up, like a flower turning toward the sun.

Merritt and the others looked at Karl, who nodded and then, cautiously, slithered toward Dr. Rathpalla.

"What is it?" Karl asked. "What are you feeling?"

"I… sense something."

Raising a trembling arm, Dr. Rathpalla pointed at the city. "There," he said. "There. There's something there."

"I think he's pointing to the Civic Center," Mr. Elbock said.

"I need to go there," Dr. Rathpalla said. "There's…"

"Ibrahim," Heggy asked, as she stepped forward, "what's going on?"

Lowering his arm, Dr. Rathpalla turned around to face the others.

"Something is calling me."

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