Alicia leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes. The article was coming together, but something still felt off. She glanced at Muse, the spectral Rottweiler lounging beside her desk, dark eyes watching her intently.
"I don't know, Muse," she sighed. "There's something about Trace LaRose that I can't quite put my finger on."
Muse's ears perked up, its muscular form shifting as it sat straight up on her hindlegs. "Tell me…" it encouraged, its deep voice resonating in her mind.
Alicia worried her lower lip, a habit she'd never managed to break. "On the surface, he's like any dime-a-dozen sporting prodigy. Confident, popular, a natural leader. But there's more substance to him than that."
She stood up, pacing the small confines of her room as she organized her thoughts. Muse watched her, its ghostly tail bouncing back and forth patiently.
"When I interviewed him, there were these moments...real subtle… Like I was talking to someone much older, you know? His eyes." Alicia paused, searching for the right words. "They held such depth, a kind of... I don't know, wisdom? And I'm sure I saw pain. Not angst or drama, real pain."
Muse tilted its head, encouraging her to continue.
"And the way he plays," Alicia went on, her voice growing animated. "In that scrimmage game, he started off very shaky. I thought he was going to choke. But then, it was like a switch flipped. He completely changed his game, it was like night and day…like a completely different player. What fifteen-year-old sports star becomes reserved, rather than forcing the issue like that on a whim? Most of them are focused on domination…like Cali Jennings guy."
She flopped back into her chair, spinning around to face Muse. "Am I reading too much into this? Maybe I'm just trying to see a story where there isn't one."
Muse's ears perked up, its muscular form shifting as it sat up straighter. "Perhaps a change in perspective might help," it suggested, its deep voice resonating in her mind. "Sometimes a different point of view can bring a fresh perspective," she said, her voice now audible in the room rather than just in Alicia's mind. "Let's break it down. Tell me what you see in Trace."
"On the surface, he's like any other talented high school athlete. Confident, popular, a natural born leader. Depending how the chips fall, I would say he was born to be a basketball star. But there's more to him, cause he didn't really act that way. It's not that he doesn't have an ego, but its like he's…aware of his own ego, and his affect on others, as well as himself. I want to say its like he's keeping himself in check? You should've seen how his eyes lit up during our first interview, and he answered my questions with passion and enthsiasm, but then that reservation kicked in. Especially after I turned him down, but he wasn't mad or disappointed, but more…confused. I don't know, he just doesn't seem normal." Alicia finished with a slightly frustrated huff.
She continued to detail other observations about Trace, his old soulful eyes, his unexpected gameplay and character changes, his alleged personality and behavioral switches, and her conflicting feelings about his invitation.
As Alicia spoke, Muse listened intently, her ears twitching occasionally as if picking up on more than just Alicia's words. When Alicia finally flopped back into her chair, spent from her outpouring, Muse leaned forward.
"You've always had good instincts," Muse said, her voice carrying the same deep timbre it had in Rottweiler form, but with added human nuance. "What else is bothering you?"
Alicia's cheeks warmed slightly. "He asked me out," she admitted quietly. "I turned him down, of course. Professional boundaries and all that. But..."
"But?" Muse prompted gently, her dark eyes, so human yet carrying the same depth as her canine form as she fixed on Alicia.
"But a small part of me wanted to say yes," Alicia confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And that scares me, Muse. I can't afford to blur lines, not when I'm just starting to get serious opportunities as a journalist. You know how hard it was to get this internship, nevermind the first time."
Muse nodded, her ears flicking forward with interest. "Mm, anything worth doing…" She sighed, consideringly. "If Trace is everything you say, perhaps that's part of the interest. And you've never shied away from competition yourself. Anyway, what do you think that says about you?"
The question caught her off guard. "I... I don't know. That I'm letting my personal feelings cloud my judgment? That I'm not as professional as I thought?"
"Or perhaps," Muse suggested, her voice gentle but firm, "it says that you're a perceptive journalist who senses a compelling, relatable story. As well as that you're a young woman learning to navigate the complex waters of personal and professional boundaries. Two things can be true."
Alicia nodded slowly, absorbing Muse's words. "So rather than asking 'what do I do', what should I do?"
Muse stood as her form began to shimmer over with changing light spectrums. "Business as usual. You follow the story, wherever it leads, and just be honest with yourself about your motivations along the way."
Muse's dark eyes set consideringly on Alicia, deciding to add a bit more. "But keep in mind, Alicia, the key here is willpower."
Alicia's brow furrowed. "Willpower?"
Muse nodded, its spectral form settling more solidly as if to emphasize its point. "If more humans had true willpower, if they weren't so quick to give in to conflicting desires or temporary emotions, that is…instant gratification…they'd get much further in life. And in journalism."
The Rottweiler padded closer, its ethereal form rippling with each step. "What was the name of that show we streamed last month? The one about the female reporter who uncovered corruption in the mayor's office?"
Alicia nodded, recalling the series. "Yeah, 'City Hall Secrets.' What about it?"
"Remember what happened to the female protagonist?" Muse prompted.
Alicia's eyes widened with realization. "She... she fell for the charms of her source. The businessman who was blowing the whistle on the mayor's schemes."
"Exactly," Muse confirmed. "She let her personal feelings cloud her judgment. And when he announced their secret engagement to her boss and coworkers after the documentary's viewing party… She lost her credibility, her job, and eventually married the man."
"And later on she discovers that he wasn't the compassionate whistleblower he claimed to be, he was rather two-faced actually." Alicia finished, the parallels to her own situation becoming clear. "He was just using her to take down a business rival. She hardly knew the guy, but she believed him when he claimed the Pope would marry them." Alicia scoffed. "Then when she and a few others wrote a report on his shady business practices, she couldn't put her name on it because she'd discredited herself so badly."
Muse's tail swished, pleased that Alicia was following. "And that was a true story, not a work of fiction. That reporter lacked the willpower to separate her personal feelings from her professional duty. She gave in to the easy allure of a compelling story subject, and it cost her everything."
Alicia leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. "You think I'm in danger of making the same mistake with Trace?"
"I think," Muse said carefully, "that you're at a crossroads. Trace LaRose is undoubtedly an intriguing subject. He may even be a good person. But your job isn't to be his friend or his admirer. It's to uncover the truth, whatever that may be. That doesn't mean you have to deny yourself, but for the time being, anything else needs to come secondary to that."
The spectral Rottweiler stood, its form growing more defined as it issued its final advice. "Have the willpower to maintain your professional distance. Be willing to ask the hard questions, to dig deeper even if what you find isn't what you hoped for. That's what separates the great journalists from those who become cautionary tales, or distasteful writers always quoting anonymous sources when there are none."
Alicia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Muse's words settle on her shoulders. "You're right. I can't let my curiosity or... whatever these feelings are... interfere with the story."
"Exactly," Muse affirmed. "Chase the story, not the subject. Let your willpower and intuition be your guide, not your feelings. You're the budding journalist, I don't have to tell you what's right."
As Alicia turned back to her laptop, a new determination in her eyes, she felt more centered. Yes, Trace LaRose was an enigma, one that stirred both her professional and personal curiosity. But she was a journalist first, and she had a story to write.
Suddenly, overcome with gratitude, Alicia spun back around in her chair. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around Muse's large, spectral Rottweiler form. Despite Muse's ethereal nature, Alicia felt a warmth and solidity in the embrace, as if the strength of their bond made the ghostly form more real.
"Thank you, Muse," Alicia murmured, her face buried in the shimmering fur. "What would I do without you? You always know exactly what to say."
Muse's tail wagged, sending ripples through its spectral form. A low, pleased rumble emanated from its chest, a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.
Alicia pulled back, her eyes shining with affection and excitement. "You know what? This calls for a celebration. Next time we have a streaming session, I'm getting you a whole bunch of those bacon treats you love. The fancy kind from that specialty shop downtown."
Muse's ears perked up, its ghostly tongue lolling out in a doggy grin. "You spoil me," it said, its voice warm with amusement and affection.
"You deserve it," Alicia insisted, giving Muse one last scratch behind the ears. "Seriously, Muse. I don't know where I'd be without your guidance. Probably chasing the wrong stories and making a mess of my career."
Muse nuzzled Alicia's hand gently. "You sell yourself short. You have good instincts, Alicia. I'm just here to help you hone them."
Alicia smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. "Well, together, we're unstoppable. Watch out, Trace LaRose. I'm going to uncover your secrets, one way or another."
She suddenly stopped and glanced at Muse, currently in Rottweiler form, lounging at her feet.
"Muse," she said, an idea forming, "I know you can sometimes gather information that I can't. Do you think you could do a little digging on Trace? There's something about him, and I can't shake the feeling that there's more to his story…beyond the perceived world."
Muse's ears perked up, its spectral form shimmering as it stood. "I guess I can try," it rumbled. "But remember, my abilities have limits."
Alicia nodded. "I know. Just... see what you can find out, okay?"
As Alicia turned back to her work, Muse's form faded, its consciousness stretching out beyond the confines of Alicia's room. In the ethereal plane where systems existed, beyond time, Muse began to search for traces of Trace LaRose's life information.
As Muse approached what should have been Trace's anchor to the three-dimensional realm - the world he belonged to, which stored his source data, she encountered something quite unexpected – a wall of impenetrable darkness. Muse pushed against it, trying to find a way through, but the barrier held firm. More than firm, she felt herself get pushed back on her final attempt, growling defensively at the barrier.
Suddenly, a deep, menacing voice boomed through the ethereal space. "Stop your fumbling. You do not belong here, don't interfere."
Muse recoiled, startled. Before it materialized a red, pulsing entity – clearly with the distinctive markings of another system, only unlike any Muse had encountered before. It was obviously powerful.
"What are you?" Muse demanded, its usual calm shaken.
The red entity seemed to grow, looming over Muse. "I am what protects, guides, and empowers Trace LaRose. Your prying is not welcome here. Leave now, or face the consequences."
Muse stood its ground, though it could feel the power radiating from this other system. "You're a system, his system? But you're... different. Malevolent, even. Systems are meant to have limits and boundaries, but…" Muse blinked with awareness. "What are you doing to him?" She said, her tone accusatory.
The red entity pulsed angrily. "None of your concern, feel free to take some of it with you. Just remember the rules of the game – systems cannot interfere with each other unless a system's host is a threat to that world's existence. Trace LaRose is no such threat."
Muse's mind raced. The entity was right about the rules, but something felt deeply wrong about this situation. "Perhaps not," Muse growled, "but I suspect you're a threat to Trace himself."
The malevolent system's form seemed to laugh, a chilling sound in the ethereal space. "Clever dog. But what can you do about it? You're not nearly strong enough to challenge me, and you can't share this knowledge with your human without cause. Those are the rules."
Muse knew the entity was right. Theirs were laws older than human civilization, and there was no recourse, currently, for her to directly intervene or even inform Alicia of what it had discovered.
"Remember this warning," the malevolent system hissed. "Stay away from Trace LaRose. This will be your only warning."
With that, the red entity vanished, leaving Muse alone in the ethereal plane. Shaken, Muse retreated back to Alicia's room, materializing once again at her feet.
Alicia looked down, noticing Muse's return. "Did you find anything?" she asked eagerly.
Muse whined softly, frustrated by her inability to communicate what she had discovered. It could only shake its head, conveying that she had been unsuccessful.
Alicia's brow furrowed in confusion. "That's odd. You've never come up empty before. What makes Trace so different..."
As Alicia pondered this new mystery, Muse lay its head on her paws, its mind racing. It had stumbled upon something far more dangerous than either of them had imagined. But bound by the rules of its existence, all Muse could do was watch and wait, hoping that Alicia's journalistic instincts would lead her to the truth before anything went awry. Failing that, well…there were no rules that kept her dropping hints.
However, that malevolent system's warning echoed in Muse's mind. Whatever was happening with Trace LaRose, it was clear that uncovering the truth would be far more perilous than Alicia could possibly know.
With a final pat on Muse's head, Alicia turned back to her laptop. As she began to type, filled with renewed purpose and determination, she could feel Muse's comforting presence settling at her feet.