"So why exactly isn't your little sister here?" Kotone Miyamoto asked Chiharu in exasperation.

　　"She had a date tonight. It's her first date ever. But she told me everything she knew." Chiharu reassured the assembled crowd. They were all at Kotone's place again, after a quick ring of phone calls. Everyone except Isao, because that hopeless boy was somewhere on the other side of the world, no doubt risking his life and enjoying it, nevermind who worried about him back home.

　　“Well if it’s her first date, it can’t be helped.” Kotone replied, mollified. First dates were important. “In that case, would you be so kind as to explain what happened?”

　　“Last night Aiko had a dream, it was extremely vivid, and it makes too much sense to be just her imagination. In a sense, it was an extremely powerful form of mind reading, where she read his mind so closely she became the target’s stream of consciousness. But in another sense, it was extra-sensory-perception, where your psionic powers go out of their way to tell you things you need to know, even if you don’t know you need to know them. And in another sense, it was a foretelling, in that it was a prophecy of things to come that are of vital interest to her, and us, the dark wyrd’s greatest enemy. Or you could just call it a true dream. In folklore, all of these thought processes are related to telepathy, so we need only assume Aiko’s a telepath, not just a mind reader, and it all works out. I assume no one’s going to tell me we shouldn’t believe my little sister?”

　　No one considered that an issue. She wouldn’t lie or be mistaken about something so important. The Dead Enders were back and there was no point not facing facts.

　　“The dream was pretty simple. A man named Abhi Durai is an extremely intelligent Indian from a low caste whose life had been stymied by the system every step of the way. Eventually he grew sick of life as we know it and decided on a completely alien life form to replace us. His fantasy stopped at that until the dark wyrds found him, and gave him the power he needs to change his dream into a reality.” Chiharu explained.

　　“Do we know if he really gained the power he needs? Maybe he got something completely unrelated, like me.” Kotone asked.

　　“Logically, Aiko wouldn’t have had a prescient dream like that unless her ESP felt she needed to see it. Therefore we can assume that any time Aiko has a dream like this, the threat is real and Abhi Durai is even now working to slime the world.” Chiharu answered.

　　“Slime?” Shiori laughed. Shiori tried to make a slimy face by puffing out her cheeks. “Glooooop!” She waved her arms threateningly.

　　“Stop, this is serious.” Rei instinctively chided her sister, but then she started laughing too.

　　“Okay, so it sounds impossible. But like I said, it must be possible or Aiko’s magic would have seen fit to ignore it. Furthermore, the dark wyrds think it has potential, or they wouldn’t have made a contract with him. Their scrying must see the end of all possibilities, just like Aiko’s dream sees the end of the world. If you think of it as an out of control biologically based nanoswarm, it’s not outside scientific parameters to turn the entire world into artificial goo.” Chiharu only allowed herself a smile.

　　“So what should we do? We can’t detect one Dead Ender among the billions that inhabit India, no scrying is that accurate.” Kotone pointed out. “And until he actually invents whatever formula he needs, he won’t appear anymore dangerous than anyone else. It’s easiest to just let him find us, like before.”

　　“That won’t work this time. The dark wyrds have learned from their mistakes. They aren’t going to attack us anymore. Aiko’s dream had no indication of that.” Chiharu said.

　　“But Magnolia said that so long as we lived, the Dead Enders couldn’t determine the future, so they have to come after us.” Shiori objected.

　　“And they will kill us -- at the same time as they kill everyone else. It’s actually quite elegant.” Chiharu pointed out admiringly. “Why fight us when you can create a situation wherein we’re bound to die, all from the safety of your own home? There can’t be many more dark wyrds left, so they’re trying something new. The best threats to end the world possible, conducted in utter secrecy, and only revealed when it’s too late for us to do anything to stop them.”

　　“But they didn’t foresee Aiko.” Kotone breathed. Chiharu was right. They were up against a different breed of enemies this time, far more terrifying than the last.

　　Chiharu nodded. “No one could have foreseen Aiko. A source of information even better than scrying. Not only is she aware of the threats before they happen, but she has a telepathic link with the targets she dreams of. She can lead us right to him, because she knows everything about him, as though she were him, whenever she wants to be. Which means we have to take Aiko with us to India.”

　　“So it’s preemptive war, huh?” Kotone sighed. The logic was impeccable. They couldn’t wait until he invented the slime before they punished him for trying, by then it would be too late for the world. But it still felt strange for their group to go around aggressively attacking Dead Enders instead of the other way around.

　　“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Chiharu offered. “If it’s just one Dead Ender, he shouldn’t be a problem for, well, me alone. His magic probably has no use in combat either. Their only weapon was their secrecy. With Aiko, that weapon is gone, and they’re at our mercy. Hopefully all the remaining dark wyrds form contracts like Abhi Durai’s, so we can finally cleanse the world of them. This is more an opportunity than a problem.”

　　“No, if it’s the world coming to an end, no matter how easy it sounds, we have to do everything we can to stop it. I’m coming too.” Kotone Miyamoto insisted.

　　“Me too.” Shiori Rin said.

　　“Me too.” Rei Rin followed.

　　“I’m coming too.” Masanori Miyamoto stated.

　　“I don’t think you should come, Masanori.” Chiharu said. “You’re more valuable than the entire world put together. The fate of dozens of universes relies on Angle Ark, and we haven’t sent even a single group through yet. You should be expediting their evacuation in case we fail. Angle Ark is all the more important now. And what if, by a freak chance, you die? All our dreams for the future will amount to nothing.”

　　“If you think I’m letting you girls fight while I stand aside in the safety of the rear, forget it.” Masanori brushed Chiharu’s objections aside.

　　“But if you think about it logically -- ” Chiharu tried again.

　　“I won’t. If you want Angle Ark to succeed, then you’ll just have to keep me safe, just like I intend to keep you safe, just like I intend to keep my wife safe. Without me, you would have died last time and I’m sure you would mess it up and die this time too. Then what? How could I find these Dead Enders again with Aiko gone? How could we have forewarning again if Aiko dies? I need to be there. I’m strong. I could be the difference.” Masanori asserted.

　　“It isn’t about strength or lack thereof, its about indispensability.” Chiharu replied calmly, ignoring that she was interrupted.

　　“It’s hopeless, Chiharu. You won’t change his mind. He’s very protective.” Kotone smiled warmly because she loved that about her husband. Even if Chiharu was right, Masanori could never accept logic that meant she would fight without him.

　　“Fine. So we’re all going on a trip to hunt Dead Enders together. The poor fools won’t know what hit them. The only remaining question is how we fit this into our schedules. Kotone, you’ll let us use your company’s private jet, right?”

　　“Of course.” Kotone agreed, smiling. Money was so very useful.

　　“It will be tough to get my parents to agree to letting Aiko miss school without explaining that we’re saving the world. So I hoped we could make these missions fall on weekends only.” Chiharu said.

　　“That’s a good idea. We can’t miss our college classes either.” Rei Rin agreed. If she missed any classes, she’d never catch up. She wasn’t smart enough to catch up.

　　“Did Aiko say we had to act now?” Shiori asked Chiharu.

　　“No, however the ESP works, it didn’t leave an impression on her that the threat was grave and immediate. Just that it was real.” Chiharu replied.

　　“Then let’s trust Aiko on this. I know you can’t afford to disrupt your college courses either.” Shiori courteously took Chiharu’s wishes in mind, because Chiharu wasn’t impolite enough to mention them herself.

　　“So, every Saturday when Aiko gets out of class, we board our jet and go on an adventure. Finish it in a day, then fly back on Sunday. I’ll tell my parents that we’re taking Aiko on an educational tour of the world, with all of our newfound money. They shouldn’t mind if it’s just for the weekends.” Chiharu said.

　　“Who’s Aiko’s date? Are they going steady? Is he cute?” Kotone asked, now that the immediate problem was solved.

　　“Ask her that next week on the plane.” Chiharu smiled. “All of you should get to know her now. She’s our comrade in this, our second wyrd war. I’m so proud of her right now. I had no idea she’d come this far this fast.”

　　“Has anyone tried to call Isao?” Kotone asked.

　　“I tried, but it was off like usual.” Chiharu shrugged.

　　“His suit can’t conceal anything but himself and his suit, so he folds out his cell phone while he’s working. Which is always.” Kotone pouted with bad memories.

　　“That boy works too hard.” Shiori complained.

　　“What can we do? Scrying says he’s doing the right thing.” Masanori pointed out. “It’s hard to criticize a Choice Giver’s choices.”

　　“Well I’m going to criticize them.” Shiori decided. “Kotone, when is Isao coming home?”

　　“I’d guess this summer. For, well, you know.” Kotone became sad just thinking about it.

　　“The anniversary of his friends.” Shiori thought aloud.

　　“No matter how much he cares about his work, he wouldn’t miss visiting their graves. Not Isao.” Kotone said confidently. “But it’s okay, we can do this without him. Like Chiharu pointed out, we’re going to take these Dead Enders by storm, Isao or not.”

　　Kotone put her hand out in front of the table. “Magical Girl Kotone, returning to duty!”

　　“Shiori Rin, back in action.” Shiori smiled and put her hand on top of Kotone’s.

　　“Masanori Miyamoto, reporting.” Masanori put his hand in the circle.

　　“Chiharu Sakai, and in absentia, Aiko Sakai, weekend warriors.” Chiharu grinned, putting her hand in the circle.

　　“Rei Rin, volunteering for another round.” Rei put her hand on top.

　　“Alright. We need a name for our team. Quick.” Kotone told the crowd.

　　“Choice Givers?” Shiori offered.

　　"But Aiko and Rei aren't even -- " Chiharu began.

　　“Good. We’re going with that.” Kotone agreed with Shiori immediately. “On three, everyone shout: “Choice Givers, victory!”

　　“One, Two, Three -- Choice Givers, victory!” Kotone shot up her arm, and the group of friends shouted in unison. The world was at stake, but it was so fun to be back with her friends again. All in all, she considered the situation a plus. There was no need to mention the news she had this morning. If she had told everyone she was pregnant, they definitely would have kept her out of the fighting. But her baby was just as much at risk being turned to slime because she wasn't fighting as being killed in battle because she was fighting, and Kotone hated living life as a mere spectator. The future belonged to her, now. It belonged to her baby. She wasn’t going to let Abhi Durai have it.

* * *

　　Kip Miles watched Ms. Hunter enter the classroom with only mild curiosity. Even though he looked perfectly average in the mirror, with brown skin, brown eyes and black hair, it was a dirty family secret that he was far too intelligent. He learned things faster than his classmates in school, enjoyed reading complicated books from old, far too sophisticated authors, and made startling connections between what looked like to his parents completely unrelated things. They were all the symptoms of that peculiar mental illness, the egghead complex, that could get anyone excoriated by the public and virtually unemployable if corporations ever found out. His mother had once begged him to be just a bit dumber, and offered him an endless supply of pot to smoke. Pot was good at reducing intelligence, which in his case would be medically beneficial. But Kip had refused. He hated the smell of pot, and it made his eyes water even when others smoked it in the same room. He couldn't imagine smoking the awful things every day for the rest of his life. But he had to admit his intelligence was a major disability. While everyone else had made plenty of friends, started sleeping around regularly with each other, and genuinely enjoyed the challenge of the course work they were given in school, Kip found everyone and everything tedious. He was sixteen years old, and algebra just wasn't enough. Nor was learning yet again that Columbus was the most evil man who ever lived, except for Hitler, who was even more evil, every year in history. "Many millions of innocent people died because of Hitler and Christopher Columbus. Therefore, everything they believed were the worst possible beliefs, precisely because they believed them. Case closed." Kip was fine with hating Columbus and Hitler alongside everyone else. He deplored the deaths of millions like anyone else. But he wished he could learn something, anything else during a new school year. He had understood Columbus and Hitler were evil by age five, and he really hadn't needed any further proof of the issue since then. As for algebra, he had mastered that by age ten. Intelligence really was a curse. He counted the minutes until he could escape school every day, while everyone else giggled and made out in the hallways between class. The world of dumb people was just so much happier.

　　"Today I have an announcement," the immaculately dressed Ms. Hunter stood before her podium, adjusting her glasses and taking out her written down speech to read from. Kip slouched back in his chair, putting his feet into the cage that held textbooks in the chair in front of him, and waited. It would probably be something about a field trip to a farm where they could watch 'life in the real world,' and people who did what 'really mattered.' Schools loved mocking any intellectual pursuits, making sure everyone knew that farming was good enough for anyone. It was arrogant to consider anything more valuable than food. And arrogance was the worst crime of all. Kip had no reason to argue with the school about it, obviously food mattered more than anything else, and thus farmers were the most valuable workers imaginable. It was just so boring to literally watch plants grow. Field trips were the worst. Most of the other students paired off and sneaked into the woods. But Kip, even at sixteen, was still a virgin. He hated field trips.

　　"Due to certain uncivil reactionary retrogrades in our community, the government has been forced to take further action in the interests of world peace and equality. Henceforth all marriages will be arranged by the state, serving the public interest. No longer will individuals be allowed to flaunt their arrogant selfishness by refusing to fit in with the system, which is the only hope of producing a truly just and harmonious world. There is only one race, the human race, and it is time certain recalcitrants learned this fact once and for all.” Ms. Hunter gave a polite cough, staring daggers at the girl in the back row, who spent every day looking out the window, her fist under her chin, with a cold, distant aura that kept everyone from talking to her. Unprecedentedly, she had refused every single boy’s offer of no-fault sex. Kip blushed to remember those cold, despising eyes narrow as she had rejected him. It wasn’t considered polite for a girl to turn down a boy’s offer, because it made a girl sound arrogant, like she was too good to make love with just anyone. Most girls would rather die than be considered arrogant. But Autumn was shameless. She didn’t care what people thought. That was only half the problem.

　　The other half was the color of her eyes. They were blue. Blue eyes at this day and age were impossible. But there she sat. She had blue eyes, an impossibility after centuries of indiscriminate racial mixing. She had blonde hair, another impossibility after centuries of indiscriminate racial mixing. And she had alabaster skin, a third impossibility after centuries of indiscriminate racial mixing. She was a child of impossibility. A child of those people. Racists who thought their physical features were better than anyone else’s. And even though it wasn’t fair to condemn children for the sins of their parents, she didn’t even have the common courtesy to get a deep tan from the freely available public tanning booths, that could have made her skin at least halfway decent. She could have dyed her hair a proper black, like everyone else’s. She could have worn contacts. But instead she sat, her long blonde hair cascading down her neck and over her shoulders, her fair skin so clear veins were visible snaking through her arms, and her bright blue eyes glowing with scornful defiance, like a raptor searching for prey, refusing to look away from anyone who tried to confront her. Maybe her parents made her keep the looks she was born with. In that case, what choice did she have? Autumn Brewnell wasn’t necessarily a racist. She could hate her own body and be the first victim of her parent’s reactionary primitiveness, but be unable to escape their parental authority when it came to her appearance. Kip wanted to think the best of her, so long as he could.

　　This was because, no matter how much Kip internally condemned her, he was fascinated by the girl in the back row. Autumn rarely spoke. When groups of students gathered to pull her hair and mock her for being arrogant, racist, eggheaded and the product of incest, the only possible way she could still have fair skin and blue eyes, she never replied. She just stared at her classmates with a bored detachment, waiting for the litany of insults to end. She had cried out in pain when one particularly resentful girl had torn out a lock of her hair. But then she had recovered, simply staring at the girl, as if to ask whether she was now satisfied. That translucent porcelain face, that practically revealed her bones underneath, never, ever revealed what she truly thought or felt. Kip wanted to know the answer to that one mystery more than anything else in his life. She was the single not boring entity in school. The single not boring existence he had ever come across in his life. Therefore, so long as Kip could find an excuse for her, he would forgive Autumn Brewnell anything. Even that she turned him down. Even that she turned him down knowing he hadn’t asked anyone else in class -- an honor any other girl should have, would have fallen for. Instincts were instincts after all. Even if no one wanted to be thought of as special, every girl wanted to be considered special by their lover. It was one of the only chances to be unique in life. Kip was sure it would work, that he would succeed where the others had failed. But she had seemed even angrier and more contemptuous of him than anyone else. Like he had disappointed her. Why? He never insulted her or pulled any pranks on her. He didn’t hold her parents’ racism against her and treat her unfairly for sins she never did. It wasn’t fair.

　　“Furthermore, there are disturbing reports of eggheads who cling to their intelligence as a sign of superiority over their brethren. This dangerous activity must be eliminated once and for all. Everyone knows intelligent people are pied pipers, who use their forked tongues to convince real people who do real things and stick to solid, common sense all sorts of heresies and scandalous falsehoods. Recently, an egghead was overheard to say that “all things weren’t equal, take for instance bugs and people, surely we could admit one was better than the other.” The class gasped. Better was a forbidden word. A vulgar word. A word that meant you could never be employed for life. Better was like the other word. That word couldn’t even be thought, much less spoken. Kip didn’t let his mind dwell on it too long.

　　“It would be fine if these reactionaries were simply wrong, a tolerant society can allow some measure of foolishness. But they insist on marrying only other intelligent people like themselves, no matter how high we raise the financial penalties and taxes on these families. Even forcing these families to wear blue ovals at all times to let people know they were eggheads who wouldn’t mix with the rest of us hasn’t been enough to deter their deviancy. And using this intelligence, they insist on persuading others, through their sneaky fraudulent tactics they call logic and reason, when everyone knows common sense is the only proper method of argument, to join in their deviancy. This destabilizing force has to end, or the world will never be able to fully embrace the joys of normalcy.” Ms. Hunter took a drink of water and then continued.

　　“It was the wisdom of our forefathers to realize equality could only ever be realized in a world where marriage served the public interest, and was no longer bound to the chains of private prejudice. For centuries we have tried to use subsidies, awards, persuasion, fines, any voluntary measure we could think of to bring our last vestige of retrogades into the light of day, to banish their awful arrogance and allow them back into human fellowship. We regret to say that they have refused all of our advances, all of our offers, and like cave men insist on living in the past. Well the past is past. Since voluntary measures aren’t enough, and since world peace must happen, and peace will never happen until humans have full and mutual respect for one another, and respect is best proven by mixing of the genes, the only way we can be sure people honestly respect their fellow man, whoever he or she might be, as an equally worthy half of their children’s DNA, the world government has enacted a new law: The Defense of Equality Act. Until every last retrograde has been mixed and remixed, until every last holdout in our society has been blended into a perfect mediocrity, marriage will no longer be subject to choice. Henceforth, everyone’s partners in life will be decided by lottery, the only objective manner of choosing. The future belongs to fairness, not discrimination, and we will take whatever measures are necessary to combat this social poison, this cancer in our midst.” Ms. Hunter finished her speech.

　　“By lottery?” Julie, a girl in the first row gasped. “But I love Jack. We’d already agreed to marry at eighteen!”

　　“Don’t blame the government, Julie.” Ms. Hunter said compassionately. “These sorts of freedoms were preserved for centuries, in the hopes the government could peacefully integrate society. They were only forced to this extreme because of certain people. I think you know who is to blame, Julie. I think everyone here knows who is to blame for forcing the government to this extreme.”

　　The entire class turned to look at blonde haired, blue eyed, white skinned Autumn Brewnell. Julie Lasquelle had a face contorted with hatred. She knew full well who was to blame.

　　“Freedom must be practiced with responsibility. When children do not show enough responsibility to be trusted to do what is right, their freedom must be taken away, and measures have to be enforced directly. Because of certain people who didn‘t treat their freedom responsibly, we must all lose our freedom. No, the government can’t be blamed when selfish people go their own way. This is all the fault of the retrogrades. Everything has been the fault of the discriminators since the dawn of history. Isn’t that right, class?”

　　“Yes, Ms. Hunter.” Kip quickly agreed with everyone else. Everyone but Autumn Brewnell, whose nose was flaring, her eyes narrowed, her forehead wrinkled, and her hands balled into fists. Kip stared at her in amazement. She had always agreed in the past. You had to agree with the teacher every time she pointed that out. It was detention otherwise. Detention, and a mark on your permanent record. What was Autumn doing? Kip silently willed her to speak up, quickly, and save herself.

　　“Isn’t that right, Ms. Brewnell?” Ms. Hunter asked insipidly, a delighted smile breaking out on her face. Finally, finally, divine justice was being visited on this holier-than-thou-trollop. Finally Ms. Brewnell was cracking.

　　Autumn shot up from her chair, pushing her desk forward in her haste. Her hair flashed behind her in a sinuous wave back and forth. Kip could see her pulse in her throat. Impossibly, her face became a shade of scarlet, as if her skin were that of a chameleon’s instead of a human’s decent brown. Autumn put both of her fists on her desk, leaning forward with a look of pure hatred at her teacher. The arc her back made was like a snake in motion.

　　“I will never marry against my will.” Autumn Brewnell said, her voice shaking with emotions Kip couldn’t begin to fathom. “This means war.”

　　Kip didn’t know what he was looking at anymore. This girl with hair of molten sunlight, this falcon who flew just by standing, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She stood like a queen commanding armies, defying her teacher, the class, the law, the world, and everyone’s opinions of her, a living testament to her hatred of the system. And with her invisible legions, queen of her invisible kingdom, she had just declared war on the rest of mankind. Impossible. Is she insane? How could a lone individual declare war? She was going to get arrested!

　　“Now you’ve said it, Ms. Brewnell.” Ms. Hunter cackled and clapped in triumphant glee. “I knew you were a racist like your filthy parents, but I never thought you’d name yourself a terrorist. You must know all conversations in the classroom are recorded. I’m afraid this is the end for you.” Ms. Hunter hit a button, connecting her to the principal’s office.

　　“Hello, this is Ms. Hunter, from class 2-b. I’m afraid we have a disciplinary problem. Would you mind summoning the security staff?” The security staff patrolled every modern school, police with full powers, after the incidents of schoolyard fights had markedly increased over the decades. As people became more normal and average, schools had become increasingly impossible to administer, until the new disciplinary measures had been put in place. Now everyone knew to toe the line, or else. The chaos of the past was long past.

　　“Say you didn’t mean it.” Graham Momba suggested to Autumn, suddenly. “Apologize, quickly! You’re just overwrought. No one’s blaming you. Please just say you were joking and didn’t mean it.” Kip’s hopes soared. Way to go, Graham! Why didn’t I think of that?

　　Autumn Brewnell just turned her icy blue eyes to Graham and stared. Eventually Graham’s hopeful face melted into consternation, and then his eyes slinked away from her. Stupid girl! Just because we all know you meant it doesn’t mean you can’t apologize! It’s all right to pretend to believe things you don’t for the sake of social harmony! He was only trying to help! This is why no one likes you!

　　“I’m afraid Ms. Brewnell is an unsalvageable retrograde, Mr. Momba. There’s no point wasting any pity on her. Trash like her are the cause of everything wrong with this world, aren’t they, class?” Ms. Hunter grinned triumphantly at her helpless student.

　　“Yes, Ms. Hunter.” Kip immediately replied alongside the rest of the class, feeling sick to his stomach. You had to answer yes to that question. It went on your permanent record.

　　Cops started pouring into the classroom. Ms. Hunter pointed at her quarry and the men leaped at Autumn. She made no move to resist, but they tackled her to the ground anyway, holding her arms so she couldn’t brace her fall. Autumn let out a squeal of pain, and a brief look of panic surrounded her face before she could mask it again with her traditional scornful defiance. They tied her wrists together behind her back, yanked her neck by pulling the back of her hair, and with coarse laughter at the bruises appearing so well against her pale skin pushed her out the classroom door.

　　Kip Miles realized he was never going to see Autumn again.

* * *

　　“This. . .” Kioshi Nishimura gulped, breaking away from the printout. “This is good. I had no idea you could write like this, not from your description. I thought it would be, more. . .well, debatey.”

　　Aiko’s heart fluttered in her chest. She couldn’t handle her nervousness. It was bad enough to be alone in the same room as her boyfriend with the door closed on her first date. He was reading her book, her first attempt at a book, and judging her by it, too. And worse, she was judging him by his reaction to the book just as much. The world felt like it hung on a tightrope. If she even breathed she would fall to her doom.

　　“I don’t think debatey is a word.” Aiko tried unsuccessfully to keep her voice normal.

　　“Well, it should be. Anyway, you understood what I meant.” Kioshi shrugged.

　　“Yes but you’ll sound stupid if you use nonexistent words.” Aiko Sakai rolled over from her back to her belly, changing her view from the ceiling to Kioshi’s face. She had lain still in bed, not making a sound, not stirring an inch, as he read. She didn’t want anything to disrupt or distract him. But now she needed to see his eyes. It was important.

　　“I thought intelligence wasn’t a big deal?” Kioshi reminded Aiko, raising an eyebrow.

　　“I. . .” Aiko pouted, not knowing what to say. “Anyway, keep reading!”

　　“I can’t. I’m in sensory shock. These pages are riveting enough already.” Kioshi pushed the pages away.

　　“Is that bad or good?” Aiko pleaded. She tried to read his mind but all she got was how much he enjoyed looking at her laying on the bed facing him with her legs up and her skirt dangerously high. Boys!

　　“It’s good. It’s really good. I love your description of the girl from the boy’s point of view. I know exactly how he feels. Girls have no idea what they look like to us. Well, except you get it. Girls aren’t even human. They’re forces of nature. They’re tempests of elemental beauty. I don’t know how you captured that. But you did. I have such a clear image of Autumn in my head.” Kioshi said.

　　“I don’t care about my imagery! The moral message! What about the moral message!” Aiko’s relationship was dependent upon how much Kioshi liked her. Her values. Her beliefs. Not her talent or skill. Evil people could have talent and skill too.

　　“Obviously, marriage by lottery is taking non-discrimination too far.” Kioshi raised his arms palms outward in self defense.

　　“But don’t you see how inevitably we must arrive at that state, so long as we consider non-discrimination, anti-racism, tolerance, harmony, or whatever our highest virtue?” Aiko demanded.

　　“If it’s emphasized too much, of course. But you could say that of any virtue. You can take anything too far.” Kioshi said.

　　“That’s not true.” Aiko said, authoritatively. “Some things can never be taken far enough.”

　　“Oh? Like what?” Kioshi challenged Aiko disbelievingly.

　　“The moral absolutes. Love, Beauty, and Truth.” Aiko recited her lesson from Chiharu.

　　“You can abuse those virtues too.” Kioshi said.

　　“How?” Aiko dared him.

　　“I could love someone so much I neglected the rights of others.” Kioshi suggested.

　　“A) That’s not even wrong. We can’t care about everyone equally. It’s enough to love the people around you, who are the people who need your love most, and the only people you interact with anyway. B) True love isn’t just romance. It’s affirmation of the whole world and everyone in it. It’s not just love, it’s Love. Surely you know the difference.” Aiko replied crisply.

　　“Okay, well the Truth can hurt people’s feelings.” Kioshi switched targets.

　　“It can. But if it’s True, it also sets you free. Isn’t that a price worth paying?” Aiko replied. She knew how precious the Truth was. It had changed her entire life, and all for the better. She’d accept any pain to keep on learning from that well.

　　“Beauty can manipulate people into wrongdoing.” Kioshi tried again.

　　“Beauty isn’t to blame for people’s desires, or their actions. Beauty is beautiful.” Aiko replied.

　　“You’re dodging the issues.” Kioshi accused Aiko.

　　“No, I’m really not. If you look carefully, with unclouded eyes. Truly, really, search your heart -- Is Love, Beauty, or Truth ever evil? Ever? Is there ever too much Love, Beauty, or Truth in the world? I believe there isn’t, with all my heart. I want there to be more, and more, and more. I’m not dodging your accusations, I’m just saying they aren’t valid. Love, Beauty, and Truth aren’t to blame for anything humans do wrong. It’s only when we aren’t loving enough, perspicuous enough, admiring enough, that things go wrong. You must see that. When have you wanted to not understand something? When have you wanted to not appreciate something? When have you wanted to not be cared about? Have you ever once thought there was too much love in your life? Once?” Aiko raised her voice to its highest note on that last word.

　　“I. . .fine. So maybe there are some virtues less abusable than nondiscrimination.” Kioshi sighed.

　　Aiko smiled happily, relief seeping through her nerves. “Then why not judge people by those virtues and no others? The ones you can count on? The eternal virtues that matter the most? Why not judge everyone by them, and not useless side questions like nondiscrimination, which evil people can easily do, and good people can easily not do? Don’t you see? It’s a revolution against true virtue, to put any other virtue but the moral absolutes at the crown of Olympus! It’s killing the world, like a parasitic vine choking the lifeblood of the world tree. Humans want to be virtuous, they want to be good, but they can only try so hard in any one direction. The more you tell them good is nondiscrimination, the less you can tell them good is Love, Beauty, and Truth. The more you tell them to be tolerant, the less you can tell them to be compassionate, honorable, noble, courageous, dignified or ebullient. You only get so many morality points. Why not stress the only virtues that matter? It has to be love, beauty, and truth. Nothing else survives.”

　　“So you want people to be judged by how loving, perspicuous, and admiring they are -- and nothing else?” Kioshi asked.

　　“Nothing else that conflicts with those three. It’s fine to judge people by anything, even how good they are at checkers, but you can’t lose sight of what’s important. Most of all, you can’t sacrifice what’s important to what isn’t. You can’t make the unimportant important. And you can’t make the important unimportant. According to Aristotle, that’s man’s greatest sin -- calling good evil and evil good. It’s worse than any other sin, it’s worse than rape and murder -- because the consequences are longer lasting and far more catastrophic.” Aiko said.

　　“Wait, so you’ve read Aristotle too?” Kioshi asked, his eyebrows lifting.

　　“Of course. How can you read Plato without reading Aristotle?” Aiko asked, puzzled.

　　“Normally a girl would ask how anyone could read either!” Kioshi moaned. “What have I gotten myself into?”

　　“If you praise me a little more, I’d imagine a kiss.” Aiko blushed. After all she had told Saki. But she couldn’t keep her excitement down. It was her first date. And Kioshi liked Changeling. Compared to that, a kiss was nothing. She was ready to give him her firstborn.