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Already the details were washing away, pieces of a dream within a dream. The city... London. John knew this with absolute

certainty. But in whose office was he sitting and in what new capacity? It was a position that wasn’t on the up and up, though

John didn’t get the sense that it was illegal, exactly... He threw a furtive glance at Persephone and Ruben. It didn’t

appear they’d intuited that part.

“Ruben,” said John, “do you think we could get into the House? Or see it?”

“I’m not getting any negative vibes,” Ruben said. “I think it’s OK.”

“You think.”

“Well, no guarantees.”

“I don’t know,” Persephone said uneasily.

“We could stop now,” Ruben said.

She shook her head, and in less than a minute, they were back at it.

And then, another memory...

16

Thirty minutes into his run around the Thames, adrenaline still spikes his steps.

This new position feels like a new beginning; he didn’t waste time shedding his former wardrobe to replace it with items modern

and simple, all clean lines and mostly black with the occasional grey, clothes that denote that the man donning them needs

nothing and no one and can be counted on to get the job done. Quietly.

He pulls his dark grey beanie over his ears and inhales deeply; the cold air fills his lungs.

He leaves in a week.

17

The River Thames. London. To where was he headed in a week’s time?

“This is nuts,” said Ruben. “I mean, I could feel the freezing air in my chest. I could smell the river water. My ears felt

numb!”

“But it was weird, too,” Persephone said, “because at the same time, I felt like I was watching from really far away.”

John studied them. They hadn’t detected his thoughts regarding his job, the secrecy of it. He had the passing thought that

perhaps he’d been an assassin but dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

“It was like a dream,” Persephone said.

“Like how in dreams,” said Ruben, “you’re somewhere but you don’t think about how you got there or how it makes sense?”

“Exactly.”

“We should keep at it,” said John. “This is working.” He didn’t want them to have access to his past thoughts, but two memories

in one night... “Can we keep trying?”

In moments they were waiting again, but they didn’t have to wait long.

18

The air was dense; the stillness had weight; the dim light was viscous. There was a hint of dankness, of something ancient.

John recognized the signs immediately, and so he was not surprised but expectant when before them, slate-grey fog began to

bubble up from the carpet.

Persephone gasped but didn’t move as the fog began to rotate. Anxious, John craned his neck to see if his House and the Ocean might be nestled in the fog’s center, as it had been last time. He felt a sting of disappointment when it wasn’t.

“It’s opening up,” Persephone whispered, shifting.

In the fog’s center, a funnel widened.

“Um, guys?”

“No, it’s OK,” John assured her. “Any minute now, you’ll see it. My House.”

The darkness broadened and nothing rose, no water, no House. John crept forward until his head neared the edge of the funnel.

“John!” Persephone cried.

It looked... fathomless... and the smell—had it been so strong, last time?

A moan moved through the air, heavy and curled in on itself like a hurt thing.

“Wh— Is that part of it? Is this normal?” Persephone asked shakily.

“Ruben,” said John, his gaze locked onto the churning funnel, “maybe we should stop.”

“I don’t know how, exactly,” Ruben said, his voice trembling. “It’s not an exact science.”

John turned to face him. “Maybe—”

“John!” Persephone screamed.

John turned to see a pillar of fog rising halfway out of the funnel—

No. Not a pillar.

The Grey Man hovered before them, his mouth widening. John averted his eyes, finding it impossible to look at the creature’s

face. An arm of fog floated out and reached straight into John’s chest, and a chill so cold it was hot radiated from his inner

core. A great weight, the weight of a planet, sat over John’s body, his mind. He fell back and someone was screaming.

It was his own voice, reverberating off the walls. He was tearing... becoming less tangible, becoming loathing and sadness

and fear...

It was incomprehensible.

It was being unmade.

It was annihilation.

19

“John?”

“John!”

The fog kept him weighted, but her voice made its way down and, against its vibrations, the fog shivered and evaporated.

He opened his eyes to see Persephone and Ruben staring down at him. He sat up. “How long have I been lying here?”

“A couple of minutes. The Grey Dude went for you and you fell, and while he was hovering over you, the fog around you guys

started closing in, creeping toward your body, which made it scarier. You know, slow and relentless. Like Romero’s zombies,

which I’d argue are a lot scarier than Lenzi’s or Boyle’s faster—”

“Ruben.”

“It was hella fog. And the weird thing was—well, it was like the Grey Dude was trying to do some kind of body melding thing?

Like trying to sink into you? But he evaporated. All the fog. Quick as a blink.”

“How?”

Ruben glanced at Persephone. “She, well, Persephone kind of... kicked it.”

“Kicked the fog?”

“Yeah,” Persephone said. “Ruben yelled kick it , so I did. My foot went straight through the way you’d expect, but, yeah, it worked.”

John moved to an armchair and sat, trying to understand.

“I know it sounds bananas,” said Ruben, “but I had this theory that Persephone had to say something, some code or incantation,

but since we obviously had no idea what that was, I thought maybe doing this reverse Cross-Planing thing—living to death-fog—might

work. I tried first and nothing happened. But Persephone...”

Had saved him.

However resentful John had been at the idea of needing her, he was now, more than anything, grateful. But before he could

thank her, he caught Ruben staring at him.

“What is it?” John, following Ruben’s gaze, looked down at himself and started.

It was as if someone had turned him down by half, the way one might use a dimmer to decrease the light in a room.

His black t-shirt now looked a transparent medium grey, and the striped pattern of the armchair was clearly visible through his legs.

Too visible.

Ruben stuck his arm forward and leaned in. “John, poke the armrest, hard.”

John poked and the cushion gave.

“You’re still Enteracting.” Ruben stuck his arm out again, and when John gave the nod, stuck his arm into John’s chest like

a skewer.

John felt nothing, none of the weightiness he’d expect after crossing planes with a person.

Ruben gently rotated his hand. “I think this fading is because of the Grey Dude.”

“You think?” said Persephone.

Ruben removed his arm. “Did it hurt?”

“No. Not like when he did it.”

“Look.” Persephone pointed to John’s chest. “Something’s happening. From this angle. That area is shimmying, right? Like heat

over asphalt or a mirage.”

Ruben whispered, “Yeah, but...”

And then his eyes brightened.

“John, if I may?” Ruben held up his hands, and when John gave a grudging nod, thrust them both into John’s torso.

“What are you doing?” Persephone asked.

“Something genius. Look, everything is energy, right?”

“You sound like Christine.”

“Well, it is. We’re energy, and John’s energy, and he’s fading, so somehow he’s losing energy. And if my theory is correct

we should be able to transfer this energy somehow. Feel anything? The area around my arms is doing that heat wave thing. Look!”

“But otherwise,” said John, “nothing has changed.”

“Just give it another second,” Ruben insisted. “Do you want to be around to find the portal to the Grey House or not?”

“Ruben,” said Persephone, “knock it off.” She reached for him and Ruben shifted and lost his balance, falling into John’s

chair.

At first, John felt nothing. But then he felt a rushing breeze within his chest and his vision blurred. When his vision refocused

he was seeing the inside of Ruben’s head. Not into Ruben’s thoughts or desires, but the inside of Ruben’s head in the most horrifically literal way imaginable. A wash of purplish darkness and a red root pattern sprayed

across yellow film. The coppery scent of fresh blood. The gentle drum of a heartbeat, the way one’s heart sounded when one’s

ears were covered.

John shot up and Ruben pressed his palms against his eyes.

“Are you all right?” asked John.

“Just a little dizzy.”

“John, Ruben, look!”

It wasn’t a huge difference, but it was there: the mirage-thing again, the way the area in John’s chest moved when Ruben had

thrust his arm into it. Only now, it was his entire body.

“The wavy air,” Persephone said, “it’s slowing down.”

John’s opacity increased, until it was nearly where it’d been originally.

“It takes the whole body to exchange energy,” said Ruben. “It needs a name.” He tapped a rhythm onto his skinny thighs. “Overlay...

Meta-Overlay? MP Overlay... Energy... Energy Overlay. E-Overlay for short. E-Lay. Even shorter.”

Persephone shook her head. “E-Lay sounds like a sex thing.”

Ruben blushed. “Oh—well—I mean—”

“Kiss.”

“Huh?”

“Keep It Simple, Stupid. K.I.S.S. Maybe just go with Overlay?”

Ruben nodded. “I wonder how long it’ll last.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Persephone sounded both hopeful and apprehensive.

Of course they couldn’t know how long this boost of opacity was going to last. The end of the week? A few days? Until sunset? “Do you think it’ll come back,” John said, “the fading?”

“Like healing from a wound, if that’s what Grey Dude did? Can’t say.” Ruben swayed a bit and sat on the sofa.

“Are you feeling all right?” John asked him.

“I’m good. At the very least this’ll buy you more time to find the Grey House.” Before you fade away was the unspoken thing.

“But it could be dangerous,” said Persephone. “What about long-term effects? Ruben, you shouldn’t do this kind of thing alone.”

She held up a hand before he could interrupt. “And you’d have to do it alone, because I’m leaving in a couple of days.”