002% iron-oxygen. No other change had been found.Great, dad was rusting.He was also slightly heavier than when he first was weighed. Enough to account for the extra oxygen that had been bonded to his outer layer. Or dust. The few extra grams could have been either. The report had no conclusions drawn, just the facts listed.“Nathan, do you understand what that report isn’t saying?” The Fed had snuck up behind me when I was adsorbed in the fucking report.“What isn’t it saying?” I mocked. Dad was dead. I knew that.“There are no brain waves, no heartbeat. No energy signatures. No blood. Your father died three years ago.” She reported calmly and compassionately. Or tried to ... I started to think she was acting? I wasn’t sure.“No, he didn’t. If he were dead, I would have a death certificate,” I replied indifferently. That was an old wound, but damned if I would reveal it to the Fed across from me.“In order to use Powers or any ability, you need have brain waves. Without brain waves no one. “I was asked on a date,” she said with a hitch in her voice.“And you want to say ‘yes’?”“I think I need to,” she said, sobbing softly. “You can’t marry me. Or give me children.”“No, I can’t,” I replied, keeping my voice soft and loving.“I knew, eventually, this would happen. I’m sorry I’m crying.”“Crying is OK.”“Will you do something for me?”“Name it,” I replied.“Take me to Rochester so we can spend those nights together.”“Absolutely,” I replied.I held her while she cried, and then we adulted again and again.August 5, 2000, Chicago, Illinois“«Du blir stor!» I said to Kristina Sundström when she and her parents walked out of Customs and Immigration into the International arrival hall. (“You’ve gotten big!”)I had come straight to the airport from Liz’s apartment. She’d stopped crying, though I could tell she was still very emotional, and I totally understood why. We’d both known this day would come, and I wondered what Fate had in store, given what amounted to a ‘double whammy’ with.
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