The next round of reading delivered a bombshell that blew my "Mafia Moms" story outta the water.

  I didn’t know much about cybernetic surgery except that it was a grueling recovery that took a lot of training and sometimes failed, but once I’d read Peydran Madrano’s story, I felt like an expert and then some.

  Peydran hadn’t been just a typical augmented patient. No, he’d been a programmer who'd hacked his cybernetics and used them to control all the wireless tech around him.

  That made him so much more than just an augment.

  He hid that truth his whole life, but told the story openly here in the Known Cosmos books. Why? What made him want to reveal such big a secret in 2860?

  Wouldn’t it be dangerous for the cybernetically augmented to tell the 9 Galaxies that they could hack their relays and control tech with their minds?

  If Peydran had hacked his augment, other people probably figured it out too. So, outing them on the galactic stage had to be dangerous. I hated to think what scared people would do to the augments when they found out about it.

  I got a sinking feeling. Even worse, in light of Discordant and “Mafia Moms,” what would the tech conspiracy do if they knew?

  I loved reading the Known Cosmos series, but the pieces were coming together, and the picture it was painting gave me the creeps.

  Technology. Meeting people in dreams. Song lyrics and poetry that foresaw the future.

  Too much like me, Cora, and everything I’d discovered since meeting HC Merrin on Discord.

  Conspiracies and corruption. How was it all connected?

  “Aaarghh. I can’t keep my eyes open another second,” Cora groaned, and I agreed with her.

  “Yeah, let’s head home,” I nodded.

  Everyone else plodded out of the Sanctuary with us, saying good night.

  “Sam, do you have a weird feeling?” Cora wondered as we stepped into our suite.

  "I dunno how to explain it, but I’m reading those books, then thinking over all of our dreams, and the cosmic sex, and well, I just feel like something is happening that I’ll never go back to being the same ‘ole me anymore. Not that I want to. I mean, all I’ve wanted for years is to find you, but I never realized how much that was going to change everything.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I stopped by the bathroom door, suddenly worried. “Do you wish it wasn’t like this, Cor?”

  Why did my voice have to be so weak, dammit!?

  She squeezed my hand, “No, Sam, that’s not what I meant. The opposite! We’re Talented. You know that, right? That the Shurwinn have words for you and me and how we met? My entire life has to be reframed now!”

  Cora listed the impossible. “Telepathy. Animals bonding children. Books about people who met in their dreams a hundred years ago. Songs that whisper the future like your poems. We’re reading stories, Sam, but it’s just like us! I feel like I’m tripping, but I’m stone cold sober.”

  I pulled her close, nuzzling the side of her neck. “I know, Cor. You’re absolutely right about all of that, but I don’t wanna stop reading. I wish we could bring those books to this rental and just read them all straight through without stopping because I feel like eventually it’ll all make sense—“

  “Do our Talents have anything do with Discordant, Sam?”

  I giggled at the irony, shaking my head, “Ryst never really did anything with her dreams, did she, Cora? So, we’re writing ours down, just like she did, but who knows if it’ll turn into anything?"

  Cora huffed a laugh, brushing her teeth.

  I sobered and kept talking, "Bitsy said time was like a river pulling together threads, coalescing life lines into a flow. What can we see clearly in the middle of a current like that? I feel like I’m on the cusp of something I didn’t even know I was looking for, but I don’t wanna stop. Do you?”

  She spit into the sink. “Absolutely not. I kinda don’t care if the river pulls us under, Sam. It feels like we’re closer to life making sense for once. But—” she paused, peering at me intensely. “What about your pen name, Ayela Scarsdale? Is that another fortelling? Part of your Talent?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I have no idea. Bitsy said it would make sense, but we’ve still got three and a half books to go!” I whined.

  Cora pressed a kiss to my forehead, and we collapsed into bed. My lips kissing the bare skin of her shoulder, I asked, “Cora?”

  “Hmmm?” she hummed softly.

  “I love you.” My eyes closed—mind drifting.

  Her arms tightened around me. “I love you too, Sam. Always,” she whispered, kissing my hair.

  And that was the last thing I heard before darkness pulled me into its embrace.

  “Sorry, Sam,” Cora whispered, flicking the lamp on low.

  Her pen scritched over a notepad. I couldn’t remember if I’d been dreaming, and I floated on that thought until Cora asked softly, “Want me to read the dream?”

  I nodded, so she spoke into the dimly lit night.

  I walked down a dark hallway where the air was close, hot, and damp. I reached my right hand to the side, and my fingers trailed down a wet, rocky wall like a cave. The air smelled of dirt and dank, but clean.

  There was light beyond an arch ahead, and I went through. On the other side was greenery. Like a rainforest: ferns dripping water, color everywhere, and I heard a quick, fast song like something jolly you’d hear in a pub.

  Something furry brushed my ankle, and when I looked down, I woke up.

  Cora clicked the light off and settled into my arms. My mind wandered through an archway that led to ferns and furry creatures dancing to pub songs, and I knew no more.