Riko Nomura was overjoyed, almost dancing through the hallways as the prospective Parapsychology club leader, Nana Ishihara, its ostensible leader, lead her and her reluctant companion, Aimi Aoki, to meet the rest of the future membership.

To keep herself from screaming with excitement, Riko distracted herself by reading the brochure, titled Brinsfield Classifications, which described the various means by which espers could be distinguished. Aimi and Nana were both Psychokinetics, which were describe as such:

Psychokinetics: the most pronounced variant of awakened psychic, and thus tend to be the most talked about. As implied by “kinetic”, their abilities involve fundamental interactions with matter and energy. The effects of their abilities can be easily observed or falsified by science, if not the cause. A famous example is ‘levitation’, the phenomena of objects hanging effortlessly and without attachment in the air. Another is ‘spontaneous combustion’, wherein fires are created without a spark, potentially even without visible fuel.

Even Telepathy was categorized under Psychokinetics. The brochure had this to say on the subject.

The human brain, after all, is a network of chemical reactions and electrical impulses. Already, electroencephalography can tell us a lot about our thoughts and emotions, from a few measly electrodes upon the temples. Using extra-sensory perception to view and interpret the physical activity of the human brain is but a single leap forward from there.

However, does the presence of unexplainable psychic phenomena imply a duality of mind and the observable universe? It is the Brinsfield Foundation’s mission to explore questions such as this.

Riko did not spend too long reflecting on the topic. High school physics were difficult enough for her, let alone philosophy.

The brochure even had a word for Riko in it; “Normal”.

Normal: human beings, without due cause to believe they have been or can be awakened to psychic abilities, are classified as such.

The emergence and rumored heritability of psychic abilities has raised the question of whether extant humanity is vestigial. It is the Brinsfield Foundation’s position, however, that psychics and ordinary people alike all serve a purpose in the world.

Riko was pretty sure she was extraordinary, a one of a kind gem. That’s what her mother always told her, anyway. She didn’t have any latent psychic potential, however. So for the sake of science, she accepted the designation.

Aimi spoke up, after about two minutes of quiet walking. “You don’t have a club room yet. Shouldn’t the other members be in the cafeteria?”

Nana turned and shook her head, replying, “They don’t like crowds. Besides, the library gets new books Amano-san has yet to read right before the start of the school year. She wanted to get that done before lunch.”

“Get that done?” Riko was amazed. “I saw the library from outside, it’s huge. There must be thousands of books in there.”

“Plus an archive of past reports and studies published by students,” Aimi added.

Nana’s face was perfectly still. “I did not misspeak. She’ll be done in time to eat.”

Entering the library, Riko whistled, was suitably impressed. She didn’t actually like to read all that much, but she could tell this school put a lot of love into it, with its vast rows of hardwood shelves, study booths for focused reading, and even a conference room or two. It was into one of these conference rooms that she and Aimi were lead into.

Two girls were seated inside, and it didn’t take long for Riko or Aimi to guess which one was “Amano-san”. She had stacked up a large quantity of books near her, and was rapidly flipping through the one she held in her hands, barely long enough to see each individual page. She was a spectacle-adorned girl with long, dark, lustrous hair.

The other girl was whiling away at a sketchpad, drawing something in a manga style. Riko looked over, and saw what looked to be a picture of the one called Amano-san, depicting her as she read, motion lines depicting just how fast she managed to blaze through the pages. She was a diminutive, mousy figure, cute in her own way.

The girl at the sketchpad spoke up as three of them entered. “Leader!” She spoke the word in English, pronouncing the L correctly and everything. Riko considered whether to call Nana “Ishihara-sama” or “Leader”, but quickly decided to go with the former.

“I have the final two members we need to start our club,” Nana told them, and gestured to Riko and Aimi, who were standing behind her. “Aoki-san and Control Sample-chan. Aoki-san, Control Sample-chan, this is Kyo Amano and Chiyoko Shiro.”

“Riko Nomura,” added Riko, in case the other two didn’t want to call her Control Sample-chan. Not that she minded the nickname, or the idea of being their control sample in whatever fiendish experiments they had planned, of course. There was a moment of awkward silence as Kyo returned to her speed reading, and Chiyoko to her drawing. Finally, it broke as Riko enunciated something that had been bugging her for a while.

“How is she doing that?” Riko was pointing at the book that Kyo was rapidly flipping through. “No one reads that fast.”

Kyo turned towards Riko. An initial look of annoyance at having to explain faded into a slight smile as she looked to Riko’s hands and saw she was holding the Brinsfield Classifications brochure. “I’m a Hypertalent, with Photographic Memory and Perfect Recall. I’m not reading them per se. I’m mentally recording the books and processing the information later.”

Riko nodded. She briefly glanced over the main classifications. In addition to ‘Normal’ and ‘Psychokinetic’, there were a few others. ‘Hypertalents’ were described as such:

Hypertalent: an individual who possesses an ability that, as far as can be determined, is completely internalized to the mind, and the nervous system, as opposed to the outward expressions of a Psychokinetic, or the outside influences that control a Medium. Examples include muscle memory, genetic memory, photographic memory, the perfect recollection of all memories, or learning complex skills like playing the violin or champion-level jiu jitsu from minutes of observation.

Riko looked over to what Kyo was reading… well, more like memorizing. The Brothers Karamazov, in the original Russian. Riko asked, “Is it any good?”

“Not sure,” Kyo replied. “Already looked over the English and Japanese translations last year. They finally got the original in, so I’m taking it for contrast and context.”

“But do you like it?”

Kyo took a moment to contemplate the question, before replying, “I don’t read fiction for fun. It lends an important cultural context to non-fictional texts in the same language. Learning that context, and thus advancing my understanding of the language, is fun.”

Riko stared at Kyo for a moment. She didn’t really get Kyo's explanation, but she was starting to get Kyo. She was thorough. She didn’t like not knowing something. Riko didn’t know a lot of things, so she couldn’t live like that, personally speaking, but she sort of understood Kyo’s position now.

Aimi finally spoke up, her own attention turning to Chiyoko, who was ignoring the discussion as she drew. “You could join the manga club. They have no reason to prohibit esper membership. Why help found a parapsychology club instead? You’ll have less time to draw.”

In response, Chiyoko grabbed up her sketch and clutched it guardedly, glaring up at Aimi. Riko watched as Aimi and Chiyoko stared each other down, noticing that their mutual social awkwardness didn’t lead to mutual understanding. Riko looked over to Nana. “Is Shiro-san okay, Ishida-sama?”

Nana nodded. “It’s okay, Chiyo-chan,” called over, and Chiyoko set her sketchpad down with a huff and continued drawing. “Chiyoko rarely talks to anyone but myself and Kyo, and even then, rarely. She likes how the word Leader sounds, though. She gave me that title.”

“To answer Aoki-san’s question,” Nana continued, “There’s three reasons I believe Chiyo-chan chooses to be here. One, she was already a member, and probably didn’t fit in well there. Secondly, she’s been our friend ever since last year. Finally, her drawings are part of her ability. She’s a Medium, possessing Nensha, the power of spirit photography.”

Riko once again perused the brochure, looking up what exactly a ‘Medium’ was:

Medium: unlike Psychokinetics, who express their will on the material world, or Hypertalents, who manifest an internal ability, Mediums act according to the whim of outside forces which are nearly impossible for anyone else to perceive. Most Medium abilities are some form of ‘channeling’, where they serve as a conduit, either for these external forces, or between themselves and an object or person they’re touching, drawing forth knowledge, inspiration, emotions, and other such semi-tangible essences.

One example was nensha, which unlike most of the brochure, wasn’t a translation, but a word originating in Japan, which Riko remembered was popularized by the movie The Circle. It read:

Nensha: also known as Spirit Photography, it is the ability to manipulate images, whether it be via the photons and chemicals of a photograph, the graphite in a drawing, or the electrons in a cathode ray tube display. Despite its psychokinetic properties, it is designated as a Medium ability, because its primary utility is taking pictures of things that aren’t actually visible to physical senses, like an object's psychometry, or aren’t actually there at all.

For example, a Medium with Nensha may create a picture depicting an omen of the past or future, or an image of someone that reflects their true personality more honestly than they like to present themselves. Rumored, but likely false claims range from being able to create pictures of winning lottery numbers, photographs of ghosts, or being able to extract someone’s soul with a camera.

Riko had an idea. “Hey Chiyo-chan, can you do a nensha drawing of me and Aimi? Find out our future together? Or if we're destined to work as a couple?”

Aimi called out, “Hey, don’t-” but was too slow; Chiyoko was all too eager to demonstrate in front of an accepting crowd. She flipped to a blank page and began sketching, the hand holding her pencil moving impossibly fast. It was like she was possessed, which was the literal claim of what was happening with some Mediums. 

Turning the pad around after what seemed like way too short of time, she had produced an elaborate drawing of Riko and Aimi taking an evening stroll down a beach, holding hands. Aimi’s face was turning a deep red. They were at least wearing casual clothes instead of swimsuits, but that hardly seemed to help, judging by Aimi’s reaction.

Riko clapped. “Looks like our summer vacation is already planned, Aimi-chan! Wonderful work, Chiyo-chan.”

The budding artist, for her part, was smiling brightly to the praise. She had taken to Riko, it seemed.

“Don’t do that to me again without asking,” Aimi grumbled. She stared balefully at the drawing, and it tore itself from the pad, splitting itself into confetti, the little pieces drifting down slowly to the table. What came next from Chiyoko was the biggest doe-eyed, tear-filled expression anyone in the room had ever seen. Riko looked at Aimi in horror, and Kyo and Nana were gazing hotly at her, their rising ire plainly visible. Their friend had clearly just been attacked, it seemed to Riko.

Had Aimi gotten herself kicked out of the parapsychology club before it was even founded?

As powerful of a psychic as she was, she eventually wilted under their collective gazes. “…sorry. Here.” Aimi waved her fingers at the pieces of the drawing, the little bits floated back up into the air. It was like watching the previous scene in rewind, each little scrap of paper attaching itself to a growing whole, the drawing soon as good as new. It even reattached itself to the scrapbook, exactly where it came from.

Riko had gone from head over heels in love with Aimi, to shocked at what a brute she could be, to amazed with her abilities and in love with her all over again. All in the span of a few seconds, it seemed. She definitely had to try to convince Chiyoko to give her the drawing later, or at least sell it to her. For the moment, she merely gazed at Ami in awe

“Alright. We all know what it’s like to have a psychic outburst,” Nana said to break the silence. She didn’t seem to care that Riko had never had and might never have a psychic outburst, or even know what one was, and really, Riko didn’t seem to care either; she nodded along with the rest of the group. “Let’s all sit down,” she concluded. Riko and Aimi followed her in choosing a seat.

Curiosity gripping her, Riko scanned her brochure for more details. What did Aimi mention her ability was called. Right, Matter Automation.

“Matter Automation is a type of levitation, or psychokinetic force, distinguishable from other forms of PK force by its ability to lend objects a bit of the user’s individual will. This allows the affected objects to move without direct control, instead carrying out a simple mental instruction. Compare taking a ball out of a box and putting it back inside, to rolling that ball down a hill. The more practiced the psychic, the more complex those instructions can be, and the more ‘mental intertia’ can carry the object forward’.

There is also an observable degree of psychometry when it comes to Matter Automation. A toy robot may walk in imitation of a cheesy sci-fi movie robot. A jigsaw puzzle may be made to solve itself. A broken branch may fix itself, and perhaps even float into the air and lead the user to the tree it came from. Claims on the Internet say this is potential evidence of a World of Ideal Forms, from which all shape is derived, but there is little reason to heed such talk.”

Riko didn’t know what a World of Ideal Forms was. Maybe it had something to do with how Aimi was the ideal girlfriend. It sounded like something Kyo might have read about, so she was just about to ask her, when Nana suddenly spoke up to address the group:

“We have enough members now. One problem remains: we need a faculty supervisor.”

What kind of teacher would possibly endorse the parapsychology club, though?