I stare into my reflection, turning my head from side to side. This time I'm unable to ignore the changes. My hair has definitely grown again. My bangs have only grown a little, but the rest of my hair has grown so much more, now reaching down to just below my shoulders. This is definitely not normal.

I pick up a small strand of hair, pulling it away from my head gently. That's definitely attached to me. After a second of boggling over my hair, I drop it and turn back to the mirror. My eyes are normally a very light blue, but looking at them now they seem almost… greener? In fact, looking at my face as a whole, it seems softer. I run a hand over my chin, realizing that I haven't grown even a single hair of stubble.

I shake my head slightly, smacking my cheeks gently to try and wake myself up more. Nothing changes, though; my hair is still unreasonably long and my face still incredibly soft.

Considerably unnerved at this point, I attempt to follow through with my normal ritual. I have to use a headband to hold my hair back when I go to spit my toothpaste in the sink, same with the mouthwash. Thankfully, I already use one as part of my face washing routine so I have one handy. As I spit out my mouthwash and reach for my shaving razor I stop myself. Reaching a hand up to feel my chin, I tentatively skip that step, moving straight into washing my face.

Getting dressed, I pick out an outfit without much care. I don't have any classes today and the only thing I have planned is seeing Jack, but he's coming to my apartment. I end up just grabbing a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt that fits loosely.

I check my phone, looking at the time. Jack agreed to come over in about an hour, so if I want to make something nice I should start now.

I make my way to the kitchen, looking at the various ingredients that I have and sorting through the dishes I know how to make mentally. Pancakes would be easy enough. As I reach for the milk, I notice the scab on my wrist seems to have gotten bigger. As I focus on it, a stabbing pain shoots through my wrist and travels up my arm and coalesces into a headache. My vision blurs as my kitchen fades in and out with another, different, but strangely familiar kitchen.

As I walk through the doors into Rhodes Island’s kitchen, I smile as I see an imposing man with bull horns coming out of his head. "Oh! Matterhorn. Are you helping in the kitchen today?" I ask, smiling at him as I approach.

He turns to glance at me before turning back to his task at hand. "Yes, I'm making pancake tacos." His tone is curt as always, but I know better than to take it to heart.

I smile wider, stepping closer to look at his workspace. "You've been helping out a lot since we opened up the kitchen to our operators. Your breakfast tacos are quite the hit with everyone on board, that must be a lot of work to do by yourself!"

He nods, setting a pan onto the stove, plopping a small chunk of butter into the pan and swirling it around carefully so that it coats the bottom. I watch happily as he pours the pancake batter into the pan, waiting a minute or two before flipping it expertly with a flick of his wrist.

"You have a lot of pancake tacos to make, right, Matterhorn? Would you be willing to teach me how to make them so that I could help you?" I step behind the kitchen, pulling an apron on as I ask. It'll give me the perfect chance to do my inspection of the kitchen too while I'm at it.

Matterhorn glances towards me for a moment, considering the offer. After a second he nods. "Get out another mixing bowl and I'll run you through the process of making the pancakes."

I smile, pulling out a mixing bowl. Matterhorn carefully points out each of the ingredients and runs me through the ratios of each as I pour them all into the mixing bowl, with the exception of the flour. I mix them all up vigorously with a whisk, and then he directs me to sieve the flour before adding it to the mixing bowl a bit at a time. Before I can start mixing, he stops me from using the whisk and hands me a silicone spatula. He shows me the best way to mix the flour in, using an up and down motion. I try it myself, carefully adding the flour in until he tells me to stop. He takes the mixture from me, beginning to cook the pancakes out of the batter I just made and points to the pancakes he's already cooked, telling me to start on the fillings.

I follow his directions as he points out the ingredients he's laid out that I haven't used yet. As well as the cysty milk and fowlbeast eggs, which I'll be using more of. First he directs me on how to make the fried eggs, which I already know how to make. I follow his directions, though, and I realize that they look a lot nicer than my normal fried eggs. He shows me how to plate them inside of the pancakes, including how to brush the maple syrup directly onto the inside of the pancake.

As he directs me on how to make the scrambled eggs, I begin to understand why his scrambled eggs are so much better than mine usually are. It's all in the process. I'm caught off guard when he tells me to take them off the heat because even I can tell that they're not fully cooked, but he explains that the pan is still hot so they'll continue cooking to the perfect temperature. Cooking the bacon is familiar to me and Matterhorn doesn't make any notes about it, so I have to assume that I got it right.

Matterhorn’s cooking is so precise and artful that I can't help but admire his skill. Even the things that I technically knew how to make turn out much better under his instruction. With the basics down, I continue to help Matterhorn with what he needs, allowing him to tell me what needs to be made next as we go. Whenever I mess up, he points out ingredients before I completely miss them or tells me not to stir too vigorously. I take all of his pointers to heart, refining my technique as I go. The pancake tacos that I've helped make start to look more and more presentable and the denizens of the landship that see me working all have only nice things to say about the pancake tacos that I helped make.

I have to bite back a few tears as a barrage of positive emotions starts to come in, but thankfully keeping up with Matterhorn in the kitchen is able to keep my focus enough to somewhat ignore it. My heart doesn't stop swelling with happiness, though, as I'm able to enjoy the sight of everyone enjoying the food I helped make.

As I finish plating up the last few pancake tacos, Matterhorn taps me on the shoulder. Looking back at him, he's holding out a plate with two pancake tacos. "For your hard work today." I smile happily, wiping a bit of sweat off my brow. I take one of the pancake tacos offered, holding the product of hours of hard work gingerly in my hands.

I bite into the pancake taco and it's delicious as always. Maybe just a tad bit more delicious knowing that I helped make them.

I pull my hand back from the fridge to hold my head, but just as I do so, the headache is already gone. I try to reorient myself, looking around my kitchen and not seeing any strange bull men. I look down at my outfit, noting the differences from what I was wearing in that strange vision. Who was that? Who was I?

I look at the back of my wrist once more and see the scab again. It looks bigger, but more importantly it definitely doesn't look like a scab. I tap it gently with my other hand and it's as hard as a rock. I stare at the scab; whoever I was in the vision had a similar but far worse-looking condition on their wrist. Just more questions to ask Jack…

I glance towards the clock and despite feeling like I’ve been gone for several hours, not a minute has passed. Looking back at the fridge, I look at everything I have inside of it. I have everything I need to make those same 'pancake tacos' I just saw. I pull out all of the ingredients to make them, the decision half motivated by morbid curiosity.

I follow all of the same directions closely, the steps ingrained into my memory now. Everything works out exactly the same. Don't stir too aggressively, flip the pancakes after a minute or two, pull the scrambled eggs off the heat and let them finish cooking off the heat.

As I'm plating the last taco, there's a knock at the door. I look at my pancake tacos and they look identical to the ones I just saw being made. Incredibly unnerved, I leave the tacos where they are and go to answer the door.

Pulling the door open, I'm incredibly happy to see my friend Jack on the other side. "Jack, I'm so happy to see you. You have no idea what kind of day I'm having."

Jack smiles at me, his eyes drifting to the side of my head and very blatantly looking at my hair. "Good to see you too. I see you've grown out your hair. I didn't think it had been that long since we last met up."

I sigh, rubbing one of my eyes exasperatedly with the palm of my hand. "Like I said, crazy day. Anyways, come inside, I made breakfast."

He walks in, sniffing the air slightly. "Wow, that smells really good. What did you make?"

"Uh… pancake tacos?" I say tentatively, walking past him towards the kitchen to grab the two plates. I carry them out to my small dining table, placing the plates on the table. Jack does a double take, leaning closer to get a better look at them. He glances at me a couple of times and I can't decipher the look in his eyes.

"Pancake tacos?" he asks with curiosity, sitting down as he does so. I take a seat across from him, looking at my own tacos with no small amount of hesitancy. "...Where did you find the recipe?"

I shrug noncommittally, not really knowing how to answer that without sounding crazy. "It just sorta came to me."

He picks one up, taking a bite. His eyes go wide and he carefully pries it open, looking at the ingredients. "Did you… brush the inside of the pancake with maple syrup?" he asks, scrutinizing his taco like it committed a crime.

I nod, feeling a little self conscious now. "Yeah. If it's not enough though, I can always go grab more."

He holds up a hand, taking another bite. "No no, it's perfect, it's just… well, it's perfect." I just stare at him for a few moments before taking a bite of one of my own pancake tacos. It's just as good as I remember, which is a thought that confuses me to no end.

I swallow my bite and offer a small smile. "Uh, thank you?"

Jack shakes his head incredulously. "No, you don't get it. I've made these before, and these are perfect. When I made them, they looked incredibly sloppy and fell apart. Have you been practicing?"

I pause at that, gulping down another bite and staring at him. "You've made these before?" I ask quietly.

He nods, taking another bite and savoring it. "Yeah, it was featured in a Rhodes Kitchen Tidbits. An Arknights mini-manga of sorts they released for a while. I made all the dishes that looked tasty." He looks down at the tacos incredulously. "You really never read it? These are the spitting image of how Matterhorn made them."

I stand up abruptly, setting my taco back down and staring at Jack wide eyed. "Matterhorn…?" I ask quietly, staring at the dish. That was the name of the bull-man from my vision.

Jack takes another bite, looking at me in concern. "Uh, yeah… Anthony, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I look back up at Jack, staring him down intensely. "Matterhorn. Is he a big man with bull horns? Kinda gruff and unapproachable, but also a really good cook?"

Jack slowly sets his pancake tacos down, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. His expression smooths over cleanly into a blank one as he looks me over. He seems to be thinking about something very seriously. "You've never taken an interest in Arknights before," he says evenly, his eyes piercing me with a calculating coldness. "And yet your description is nothing less than exceptional… have you been watching some videos because I talk about it so much?"

I shake my head, slumping down in my chair. I let my head fall into my hands, not looking him in the eye. "I… saw something. Before I started cooking, I was somewhere else. I was someone else, helping a bull-man named Matterhorn make these same pancake tacos." I stop, looking up at him and picking up a long strand of hair. "I woke up today and my hair is longer than it was yesterday." Jack's eyes happen to flick to my wrist and he leans forward, taking my hand. "Oh yeah, and that scab is larger. I'm also not entirely certain it's a scab anymore. It's really hard."

Jack looks over my wrist, tapping and scratching the scab gently. His eyes are still cold and calculating, I can tell that he's deep in doctor mode at this point. "When did you get this wound?"

"Two days ago? I cut myself on a crystal Kaeden wanted me to identify."

Jack’s head flicks up to look me in the eye and he drops my hand immediately. Scooting his chair out, he slams his hands down on the table suddenly. I jump at the action, looking at the seriousness in his eyes. "I need to see that crystal now." I just nod, rushing to my room and pulling the towel-wrapped crystal out of my book bag.

Carrying the crystal carefully downstairs, I set it on the dining table. Stepping back, I let Jack unravel it. He does, pulling the crystal off of the table and looking at it closely. He's quiet for several seconds while he looks it over. As he goes to place it down, he drops it, pulling his hand back in shock. I rush to his side to look at his hand and see the tiniest of pinpricks on his finger. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you that it was sharp." I say, rushing to my first aid kit.

He shakes his head, looking at the pin prick. "I was careful to avoid the sharp edges. It was almost like it nipped at me. Like it wanted to infect me."

I return with a bandaid and alcohol to clean the wound, taking Jack's hand and treating it. "Infect?" I ask.

He nods, looking down at his hand grimly. "Oripathy. A deadly disease with a one hundred percent mortality rate. You can think of it like a cancer, the Originium cells slowly converting every cell in your body into Originium before eventually bursting to infect new hosts."

With his finger taken care of, I frown, looking up at him. "I don't know why, but that sounds familiar. What is Originium?"

He gestures to the crystal sitting on my table. "That is."

I look at the crystal, finally able to put a name to it. "I couldn't identify it before though, even Debbie couldn't tell what it was. Why have I never heard of Originium before, yet it seems so familiar?"

Jack turns to me slowly. "Who's Debbie?"

I shift uncomfortably. "A lab tech at my college. She took a sample and has been using an electron microscope to look at it for me."

He grimaces, folding his arms and looking down at the Originium crystals in thought. "Debbie might already be infected, so you should tell her. Also tell her to keep that sample far from anyone else; it's dangerous. We need to tell Kaeden that he's likely been exposed too."

I grab one of his shoulders, shaking him out of his analytical doctor mode so he'll answer my question. "Jack, why have I never heard of Originium before! What is it and why is it infectious? Rocks shouldn't be infectious!"

He blinks, finally looking down at me properly. For some reason there seems to be a small amount of sadness in his eyes. He sighs, taking the crystal and wrapping the towel over it. "You know that game I was obsessed with? The one that I was really broken up over disappearing suddenly?" I nod, unsure where he could be going with this. "Originium is a substance that is the focus of most of the game. What makes it so dangerous is its ability to take over organic matter, turning it into more Originium over time. Hosts who die become a new vector for infection, causing fear and discrimination against the infected."

I step away from him, shaking my head. "But… that's a game. It's not real, right?"

He glances at the towel encasing the crystal on the table. "Normally I would say yes, but…" He turns from the crystal to look at my wrist. I pull my wrist up to my chest, holding it close.

I sit back down at the table, staring at my unfinished tacos. "What do I do? How long do I have?" I ask softly.

He sits back down at the table as well, sighing gently. "It's hard to say. Nothing about this situation is normal. Assuming we can mitigate its spread and nothing exacerbates your condition, several years? Maybe even a couple decades if we're lucky."

I look up at him, frowning. I can work with several years… "Is there a cure?" I ask.

"They were working to find a cure in the game. Working alongside a doctor that might have been the key to finding a cure."

I nod slowly, digesting this information. Getting up from my seat once more, I plant my hands on the table firmly. "Well then, we'll just have to do the same thing. Surely we know something that they didn't that could be the breakthrough we need to invent a cure." I stare at Jack seriously, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments.

"Well, that's uncanny…" he mutters.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head.

He chuckles, waving a hand dismissively at me. "It's nothing. You just reminded me of someone." Deciding not to press the subject, I pick up my pancake taco and continue eating it while I think. "It's not a bad idea. I'm definitely interested in studying it, seeing as I've been handed a one in a million opportunity."

I flip open my phone, carefully tapping out a message to Debbie with the information Jack just gave me. I don't know if she'll believe me, but I just have to hope that she does for the moment. There's no immediate answer so I switch to messaging Kaeden. I start to type out the message before I slow down and stop. Will he believe me if I tell him everything?

Looking back, though, Kaeden was injured before I was. Has he undergone some sort of change too? He seemed hurt more badly than I was, has he taken on worse mutations? What if he went back in the cave and his condition is life threatening now? I hurriedly type out a much quicker message.

'Kaeden, are you okay?'

After a few moments of him not answering, I can't wait anymore. I need to know if he's okay.

"I'm going to check on Kaeden," I tell Jack, rushing to grab my car keys from my room. When I return, Jack is by the front door, looking ready to leave as well. In his arms, he's holding the towel that the Originium is wrapped in.

"I'll come with you. I need to see his condition for myself too."