I watched her, remembering the time back in my fifth year where I’d done a simulation of the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in 1963. I’d almost asked to be deactivated right then and there. What good was it being a Glitcher if you couldn’t save the innocent little girls who died that day for the color of their skin? What good was being a Glitcher if I had to stand by as unspeakable horrors took place? Thankfully one of my favorite professors, Professor Abrams, had been there that day, and he’d sat down with me and talked for hours about it all. Maybe it was because his skin color matched my own, or maybe it was because of the way he explained it, but I hadn’t asked for a voluntary deactivation that day. “History isn’t supposed to be pretty,” he’d said. “It’s downright repulsive at times, and you don’t have to like it or agree with it to preserve it. But remember that the healthiest forests grow the year after a forest fire, and that without extreme pressure we wouldn’t have diamonds. You can’t hurry history, and you can’t fix an injustice until people recognize that it is one.” All this raced through my mind as I watched tears run down Regan’s soot-stained cheeks, and I wondered if she’d have realized this all earlier if she’d looked like me, or if her mom hadn’t been who she was. Probably. Finally, she opened her eyes and shook her head. “I would have given anything to be able to save them.”

“You saved one,” I said, motioning with my chin to where Agent Chris was getting helped to her feet. “Where was she anyway?”

“On the ground,” she said. “After you disappeared with the Butterfly, I spotted her pinned underneath a fallen beam. I didn’t think I’d be able to get her out, especially since that pill ran out about ten seconds before you disappeared, but I did.”

“Nice work,” I said, and Regan raised a surprised eyebrow at me.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I have no clue how you spotted that Butterfly and Agent Chris in that mess.”

“It didn’t help that I Glitched to the wrong floor,” she said, brow furrowed. “I wonder why you and I got separated.”

I shrugged. “No idea. But it’s probably because you and I are the worst partners in the history of ever.”

“I don’t know,” Regan said. “I think we did okay, all things considered.” Before I could respond, Callaway was there, herding us off the platform.

“Are you both all right?” he asked as the rest of the partner pairs joined us.

“We are,” Regan said. “But something went wrong. We didn’t Glitch together like we were supposed to.”

Callaway furrowed his brow. “That’s extremely odd,” he said. “Were you holding hands?”