Max was late for his meeting with Mentis. Again.
He sprinted through the university campus, Mrs. Chen's journal secure in his messenger bag alongside his morning deliveries. Mr. Donovan had assigned him an extra route covering for another courier who'd been evacuated from a high-risk anomaly zone, doubling his workload and completely derailing his schedule.
The broken moon was still visible in the morning sky as Max reached the physics building, a constant reminder of how fundamentally the world had changed—and might change again if the dimensional crisis continued unchecked.
"Identification," requested the automated security system as he approached Mentis's laboratory.
"Max Peterson, Harbor News," he panted, flashing his courier badge. "Delivery for Dr. Thorne."
The system processed his credentials with irritating slowness. "Delivery not scheduled until 1400 hours."
"Special request," Max improvised. "Priority materials."
After what felt like an eternity, the doors slid open. Max hurried inside, finding the laboratory unusually busy. Guardian support staff moved efficiently between workstations, monitoring equipment and analyzing data from what appeared to be the research portal initiative.
Mentis stood at the center of activity, silver hair gleaming under the laboratory lights, blue scarf perfectly arranged despite the frenetic energy around him. He looked up as Max approached, recognition and mild irritation crossing his features.
"Mr. Peterson," he said, checking the time. "You're late."
"Sorry," Max replied, dropping his professional courier demeanor now that they were relatively private. "Extra deliveries. The evacuation zones are creating logistical nightmares for Harbor News."
Mentis nodded slightly. "Understandable. Though in future, perhaps alert me to scheduling changes. Your arrival as a courier while the laboratory is at maximum staffing creates unnecessary security complications."
Max glanced around at the busy personnel. "I didn't realize you'd have an audience. Is this a bad time to talk?"
"All times are suboptimal during dimensional crises," Mentis replied dryly. "But yes, today presents particular challenges. The research portal prototype is undergoing final calibration."
He gestured to a sealed chamber visible through a reinforced window. Inside, a complex array of equipment surrounded what appeared to be a controlled version of the dimensional rifts appearing throughout the city—a shimmer in reality, but contained within a sophisticated energy field.
"You got it working already?" Max asked, impressed despite his concerns.
"Preliminary functionality only," Mentis cautioned. "We're establishing baseline stability parameters before attempting any communication protocols."
Max lowered his voice. "That's actually what I wanted to discuss. I have new information about the dimensional anomalies. Important information."
Mentis's piercing gaze sharpened with interest. "From your encounter with the harbor entity?"
"Not exactly." Max hesitated, unsure how to introduce Mrs. Chen without revealing too much at once. "Let's just say I've been consulting with someone knowledgeable about interdimensional phenomena."
Before Mentis could question this, an alert sounded from the research portal chamber. Both turned to see energy fluctuations rippling through the controlled rift.
"Unexpected activity," reported a technician. "Portal stability decreasing by 7%... 12%..."
Mentis moved immediately to the monitoring station. "Adjust containment field parameters. Increase absorption capacity by 25%."
The staff responded with practiced efficiency, but the portal continued to fluctuate. Max watched with growing concern, Mrs. Chen's warnings about technological interventions echoing in his mind.
"Something's coming through," he realized, noticing a darkening at the portal's center similar to what he'd witnessed at the harbor.
"Negative," the lead technician countered. "No entity signatures detected. This is an environmental disturbance only."
But Max wasn't convinced. During his anomaly encounters as Rumor, he'd developed a sense for the distinct feeling that preceded dimensional transit. This portal had that same building pressure.
"You need to shut it down," he said urgently to Mentis. "Now."
Mentis frowned. "The fluctuations are within manageable parameters. We anticipated initial instability during calibration."
"This isn't normal instability," Max insisted. "Trust me, I've seen enough portals to know the difference."
The skepticism in Mentis's expression was clear, but before he could respond, the laboratory's main lights flickered and died, emergency backups activating with a low hum.
"Power surge detected," announced the security system. "Emergency protocols activated."
The research portal pulsed violently, the containment field visibly straining. Inside the chamber, equipment sparked and smoked as energy arced between control stations.
"Full shutdown," Mentis ordered sharply. "Emergency containment measures."
The technicians worked frantically, but the portal was expanding beyond their ability to control it. Max could feel the distinctive reality-thinning sensation even through the reinforced window.
"It's going critical," he warned. "Like the university anomaly."
Mentis made a rapid decision. "Evacuate all non-essential personnel. Security lockdown in sixty seconds."
As staff hurried from the laboratory, Max faced a choice—leave as Max Peterson, courier, or stay and potentially reveal his connection to Rumor. The decision made itself when the portal chamber's containment field failed completely.
The dimensional rift expanded explosively, shattering the reinforced window and sending glass fragments flying across the laboratory. Max ducked behind a console, using his enhanced reflexes without thinking.
When he looked up, the portal had stabilized at approximately eight feet in diameter, hovering in the shattered opening between the chamber and main laboratory. Energy crackled around its edges, scorching nearby equipment.
"Status report," Mentis called, emerging from behind his own shelter.
"All personnel evacuated except essential security," reported the automated system. "External containment team en route. Estimated arrival: four minutes."
Four minutes might be too long. The portal was pulsing rhythmically now, each pulse sending out stronger energy discharges. Without proper containment, it could reach critical collapse threshold before help arrived.
Max made a split-second decision. Pulling his collapsible mask from a hidden pocket in his courier jacket—a precaution he'd started taking after the dimensional crisis began—he secured it over the upper half of his face.
"What are you doing?" Mentis asked, eyes widening slightly.
"Improvising," Max replied, his voice shifting to the slightly deeper tone he used as Rumor. "We need containment, and I'm not waiting for backup."
Understanding dawned in Mentis's expression. "You brought your equipment? As a courier?"
"I bring it everywhere these days," Max admitted. "Given how frequently anomalies are appearing."
There was no time for further explanation. The portal pulsed again, more violently, a tendril of energy lashing out to melt a nearby workstation into slag.
"Any containment devices in here?" Max asked urgently.
Mentis hurried to a secure cabinet, his movements precise despite the crisis. "Prototype only. Untested beyond simulations."
He retrieved what looked like an advanced version of the discs Shimmer had provided for previous containment operations. "Theoretically capable of establishing temporary stability field, but requires precise deployment directly beneath the anomaly's center."
Max took the device, examining it quickly. "Seems straightforward enough."
"The deployment zone is highly unstable," Mentis warned. "Conventional approach would result in molecular disruption."
"Good thing I don't do conventional." Max focused, drawing on the phase-shifting ability that had become one of his most reliable powers thanks to public accounts of his work with Shimmer.
The familiar tingling sensation spread through his body as he partially shifted out of conventional reality. In this state, he could move through the portal's disruptive energy field with relative safety.
"Fascinating," Mentis murmured, observing the transformation. "The phase shift manifests differently than Shimmer's—more localized energy distribution."
"Scientific observations later," Max suggested, moving toward the portal. "Survival first."
In his semi-phased state, Max approached the pulsing rift. The energy discharges passed through him with only minor resistance, like walking through heavy rain rather than deadly lightning. He positioned himself directly beneath the portal's center and activated the containment device.
The prototype deployed with a soft electronic whine, energy beams shooting upward to form a cylindrical barrier around the anomaly. Unlike the standard models, this one created a more complex containment field—layers of energy that seemed to stabilize the portal from the inside out.
"Containment field establishing," Mentis reported, monitoring from a safe distance. "Anomaly stabilizing at 72% of critical threshold."
Max maintained his phase state, using his presence to reinforce the containment effect as he'd learned during previous operations. But something felt different about this portal—a resistance, almost an intelligence, pushing back against their containment efforts.
"Something's wrong," he called to Mentis. "It's not collapsing like the others."
Mentis checked his readings. "Energy signature shows unusual coherence patterns. Possibly indicative of external manipulation."
That aligned with what Velocity had mentioned about the harbor anomalies showing signs of deliberate creation rather than random formation. But who—or what—would intentionally create unstable dimensional rifts?
Before Max could consider the implications, the portal's center darkened dramatically. Unlike the gradual emergence he'd witnessed with previous entities, this transition was sudden and violent. A burst of energy erupted from the portal, overwhelming the containment field and throwing Max backward despite his phase state.
He crashed into a laboratory bench, equipment shattering around him. The impact forced him back to full solidity, pain shooting through his shoulder and side.
"Containment failure," announced the security system unnecessarily. "Unknown entity detected."
Max struggled to his feet, vision swimming. Through the haze, he saw something emerging from the portal—not the shadowy refugee from the harbor or the faceless Warning Entity from the university, but something more substantial and decidedly threatening.
A humanoid figure stepped through the dimensional tear, encased in what appeared to be technological armor of unfamiliar design. The armor was midnight black with pulsing blue-white energy lines tracing complex patterns across its surface. Where a face should have been visible, there was only a smooth, reflective helmet that reminded Max uncomfortably of Shock.
"Inbound Guardian team, priority alert," Mentis was saying into his emergency communicator. "Class V hostile entity, actively breaching containment. Request immediate response."
The armored figure turned toward Mentis, the featureless helmet tilting slightly in what might have been curiosity or amusement. When it spoke, its voice was distorted by some kind of modulation, yet strangely familiar.
"Guardians," it said, the word carrying contempt. "Always reacting, never understanding."
It raised a gauntleted hand, energy gathering at its fingertips in a gesture Max had seen before—when Shock had attacked the Guardian Tower. The similarity was uncanny and disturbing.
"Get down!" Max shouted, launching himself at Mentis as a blast of concentrated energy tore through the space where the scientist had been standing.
They crashed behind an overturned console, equipment sparking around them.
"Targeting you specifically," Max observed, helping Mentis to a more secure position. "Any idea why?"
"Numerous possibilities," Mentis replied with remarkable calm. "Most likely related to my research into dimensional stabilization. If this entity is indeed deliberately creating anomalies..."
"Then you're trying to undo its work," Max finished. "Great. How do we stop it?"
Mentis assessed their situation with clinical detachment. "Conventional weapons would be ineffective against that armor configuration. Energy-based countermeasures might be viable, but we lack appropriate equipment here."
Another energy blast struck their shelter, melting through metal and circuitry. Their position wouldn't hold much longer.
"What about my phase-shifting?" Max suggested. "If I can get close enough..."
"Extremely risky," Mentis warned. "But potentially our only option until reinforcements arrive."
Max nodded, gathering his concentration to re-enter the phase state. The entity was methodically destroying sections of the laboratory, seemingly searching for something.
"I'll distract it," Max decided. "When I create an opening, head for the emergency exit."
"And leave you alone against an unknown interdimensional threat?" Mentis raised an eyebrow. "Tactically unsound."
"More unsound than both of us getting vaporized?" Max countered. "I can at least dodge. You can't."
Before Mentis could argue further, Max shifted into phase state and moved out from their shelter. "Hey, armor guy! Looking for someone?"
The entity turned with unsettling speed, its reflective faceplate revealing nothing of whatever might be behind it. "Interesting," it said, studying Max's partially translucent form. "A phase-shifter. Primitive, but functional."
"I prefer the term 'adaptable,'" Max replied, circling to draw the entity away from Mentis's position. "What's your deal? Dimensional tourist? Refugee? Or just interdimensional troublemaker?"
The entity's modulated laugh sent chills down Max's spine. "Such limited perspective. I am necessity, courier. The inevitable consequence of choices not yet made."
The use of "courier" froze Max momentarily. How could this entity know his civilian identity? He'd been careful to keep his mask on during the entire encounter.
His hesitation nearly proved fatal. The entity moved with blinding speed, closing the distance between them before Max could react. A gauntleted hand struck out, connecting with his chest despite his phase state.
Pain erupted through Max's body as he was thrown backward, crashing through equipment and slamming into the far wall. His phase state flickered and failed, leaving him fully solid and incredibly vulnerable.
"Your molecular cohesion is impressive," the entity observed, approaching with measured steps. "Most phase-shifters I've encountered disperse entirely upon impact."
Max struggled to his feet, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through his battered body. Whatever the entity had done had affected him even in phase state—something that should have been impossible.
"What do you want?" he managed, trying to buy time for his powers to recover.
"Currently? Information." The entity gestured, and the laboratory's main computer system activated despite the power disruption. "This reality's response to degradation has been... unexpected. Adaptations occurring outside projected parameters."
It turned its featureless faceplate toward Max. "You being the most notable example."
A chill that had nothing to do with his injuries spread through Max. This entity knew what he was—not just his courier identity, but his nature as what Mrs. Chen called a Consensus Avatar.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Max bluffed.
"Denial is inefficient," the entity replied. "Your quantum signature is unique—reality consensus manifested through biological vector. Primitive but effective adaptation strategy."
While the entity spoke, Max noticed Mentis had managed to reach a secondary control panel. The Guardian scientist was carefully activating something, his movements deliberately small to avoid drawing attention.
"So you're here to study me?" Max asked, maintaining the entity's focus. "Flattered, but your research methods need work."
"Study is secondary," the entity corrected. "Primary objective is acceleration."
"Acceleration of what?"
"The inevitable." The entity turned back to the computers, interfacing with them through its gauntlet. "This reality's degradation proceeds too slowly. Intervention required to maintain convergence timeline."
The horrifying implication clicked into place. "You're causing the dimensional anomalies. Deliberately destabilizing our reality."
"Correcting inefficiencies," the entity countered. "All realities converge eventually. Resistance merely prolongs suffering."
Whatever Mentis was doing reached completion. A high-pitched whine filled the laboratory as emergency systems activated.
"Portal containment reinitiated," announced the security system. "Inverse resonance field deploying."
The entity spun toward Mentis, energy gathering around its gauntlets. "Futile resistance."
But before it could strike, the damaged research portal behind it pulsed with new energy. The containment field Mentis had activated wasn't designed to close the portal—but to reverse its polarity.
"Return trajectory established," the system reported. "Dimensional recall sequence activated."
The entity realized the trap too late. The portal's energy reached out like tendrils, wrapping around the armored figure and pulling it backward.
"Clever," it acknowledged, its modulated voice showing the first hint of strain. "But temporary. The convergence cannot be stopped, only delayed."
As it fought against the portal's pull, the entity fixed its featureless gaze on Max one final time. "We will meet again, Consensus Avatar. When the final barriers fall."
With a flash of blinding light and a thunderclap of displaced air, the entity was pulled back through the portal, which collapsed in on itself moments later, leaving only scorched equipment and shattered glass in its wake.
Max sagged against the wall, exhaustion and pain overwhelming him now that the immediate threat had passed. Mentis approached, looking remarkably composed despite the chaos around them.
"That," the Guardian scientist said with significant understatement, "was not a standard research outcome."
Max managed a weak laugh that immediately transformed into a wince. "No kidding. What did you do with the portal?"
"Emergency reversal protocol," Mentis explained. "Designed to force extradimensional matter back to its origin point. Highly experimental and likely non-repeatable now that the equipment is destroyed."
Sirens announced the arrival of Guardian reinforcements, too late to be useful. Max quickly removed his mask, returning to his courier identity before they entered.
"We need to talk," he said urgently to Mentis. "About what that thing said. About reality degradation and convergence."
Mentis nodded, his expression grave. "Indeed. And about this 'Consensus Avatar' designation it applied to you. I've encountered the theoretical concept in obscure interdimensional research, but never a functional example."
"I know someone who can explain it," Max said, deciding the time for half-measures had passed. "Someone with direct experience of reality degradation and its consequences."
Mentis raised an eyebrow. "Your mysterious consultant?"
"Something like that," Max confirmed. "But this needs to stay between us for now. Not even Shimmer or the other Guardians. At least until we understand what we're dealing with."
The laboratory doors burst open as Guardian security personnel swarmed in, led by Blockade's imposing figure. Mentis gave a nearly imperceptible nod of agreement before turning to address the response team.
As the Guards secured the area and Mentis explained the incident in carefully edited terms, Max's thoughts raced. The armored entity had called itself "necessity" and spoken of "choices not yet made." Its familiar voice and powers reminiscent of Shock suggested connections he wasn't ready to process.
Most troubling was its certainty—the calm assertion that reality degradation was inevitable, that resistance was futile. It hadn't spoken like a conqueror or destroyer, but like someone carrying out a regrettable but necessary task.
As paramedics examined his injuries (explained away as "caught in the crossfire"), Max made a decision. It was time to bring Mrs. Chen and Mentis together. Whatever secrets remained between them, the stakes were too high for divided knowledge.
He just hoped he wasn't making exactly the kind of catastrophic choice the entity had referenced.
---
"You should be resting," Mrs. Chen observed as Max paced her small apartment later that evening. His shoulder was bandaged, and painkillers dulled the worst of his injuries, but anxiety kept him moving despite medical advice.
"Hard to rest when an interdimensional entity in high-tech armor is trying to accelerate the collapse of our reality," he replied, wincing as he rotated his injured shoulder. "And apparently knows who I am. Both identities."
Mrs. Chen frowned, genuine concern crossing her usually composed features. "Describe this entity again. The armor, specifically."
Max paused his pacing. "Black with glowing blue-white energy lines throughout. Completely sealed, with a featureless reflective helmet. Technology unlike anything I've seen, though something about it seemed... familiar."
"And its abilities?"
"Energy projection, similar to Shock's electrical powers but more controlled, more precise. And it could somehow affect me even in phase state, which should be impossible."
Mrs. Chen moved to one of her many bookshelves, selecting a thick volume bound in what appeared to be metal rather than leather. "Did it identify itself? Provide a designation?"
"Just called itself 'necessity.' Said it was 'the inevitable consequence of choices not yet made.'" Max shook his head. "Cryptic supervillain talk."
"Not villainous," Mrs. Chen corrected, finding a page in her unusual book. "Pragmatic. There's a difference."
She turned the book toward Max, revealing an illustration that sent a chill down his spine. The image depicted armor nearly identical to what he'd encountered, with the same configuration of energy lines and featureless helmet.
"You've seen this before," he realized. "In your world."
Mrs. Chen nodded gravely. "We called them Convergence Engineers. They appeared in the final stages of our reality's collapse."
"Engineers? Like they were building something?"
"Or maintaining something," she clarified. "Their purpose seemed to be managing the degradation process itself—ensuring it proceeded according to some predetermined pattern rather than chaotically."
Max stared at the illustration, a horrible suspicion forming. "They wanted your world to collapse. They were making sure it happened."
"Yes," Mrs. Chen confirmed. "Though their motivations remained unclear. Some theorized they served some higher purpose—that reality convergence was necessary for something beyond our understanding."
"Like a controlled demolition instead of a random collapse," Max suggested.
"An apt metaphor."
Max sank into a chair, the implications overwhelming. "So these Engineers are now targeting our world. Making sure we collapse on schedule."
"It appears so." Mrs. Chen closed the book with careful precision. "Which means we've reached a critical threshold. Their appearance in my world preceded full collapse by less than six months."
"Six months?" Max repeated in horror. "That's all we have?"
"Possibly less. The degradation rate seems accelerated in your reality, likely due to compounding factors from The Collapse you already experienced."
Max ran his hands through his disheveled hair. "Then we're out of time for secrets and careful approaches. I've asked Mentis to meet us here tomorrow morning. He needs to know everything you know."
Mrs. Chen's expression remained neutral, but Max detected a slight tension in her posture. "You trust this scientist?"
"I trust that he wants to save our world," Max replied. "And right now, that's enough."
After a moment's consideration, Mrs. Chen nodded. "Very well. Tomorrow then." She studied him with those ancient eyes that had seen the end of one world already. "You should prepare him for what he'll learn. Scientists can be particularly resistant to paradigm shifts."
Max smiled weakly. "I'll tell him to bring an open mind and leave his quantum physics at the door."
"That would be wise," Mrs. Chen agreed with surprising humor. "Now, you really should rest. Tomorrow will require strength you don't currently possess."
As if on cue, Max's body reminded him of its injuries with a fresh wave of pain. "Yeah, okay. But Mrs. Chen?" He paused at the door. "If these Engineers are so powerful, how did you survive when your world collapsed?"
Something flickered in her eyes—a memory or emotion too complex to name. "Not all Convergence Engineers share identical priorities," she said cryptically. "Remember that. It may prove important."
With that mysterious response to consider, Max returned to his apartment, fall into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of breaking realities and armored figures methodically dismantling the world piece by piece.
---
Max awoke to knocking—insistent, precise, and unmistakably Mentis. Groaning, he checked the time. 7:00 AM exactly, which meant the Guardian scientist was perfectly punctual.
"Coming," he called, wincing as he pulled on a shirt over his bandaged torso.
When he opened the door, Mentis stood in the hallway looking as immaculate as ever—silver hair perfectly combed, blue scarf precisely arranged, expression clinically curious. He carried a small case that Max suspected contained scientific equipment of some kind.
"Mr. Peterson," he greeted formally. "You appear to have recovered adequately."
"Define 'adequately,'" Max grumbled, standing aside to let him enter. "Coffee?"
"No, thank you. I don't consume stimulants before analytical consultations."
Of course he didn't. Max made a beeline for his own coffee maker—a salvaged pre-Collapse model that worked about 60% of the time. Today, thankfully, it cooperated.
"Your message was intriguingly vague," Mentis noted, surveying Max's modest apartment with scientific curiosity. "You mentioned a consultant with direct experience of dimensional degradation."
"Yeah, about that," Max began, wondering how to best prepare the scientist for what was coming. "The person we're meeting has a... unique perspective. One that might challenge some of your assumptions."
Mentis raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, Mr. Peterson, I maintain remarkable adaptability regarding theoretical frameworks. My interest is in functional solutions, not dogmatic adherence to established models."
"Good," Max said, taking a large sip of coffee. "Because we're about to throw most of those models out the window. Ready to meet her?"
Without waiting for a response, Max led the way across the narrow walkway to Mrs. Chen's apartment. He knocked gently on her door, which opened immediately as if she'd been waiting just on the other side.
"Dr. Thorne," she greeted with a slight nod. "I've been expecting you. Please, come in."
If Mentis was surprised to be meeting an elderly Asian woman in a modest apartment rather than some kind of dimensional expert in a laboratory setting, he didn't show it. He simply returned the nod with equal formality.
"Mrs. Chen, I presume. Max speaks highly of your insights."
She smiled slightly. "And he of your scientific acumen, Doctor. Though I believe our approaches may differ significantly."
Mrs. Chen's apartment seemed to capture Mentis's attention more than its owner initially—his gaze moving methodically across the collections of books, artifacts, and charts that covered nearly every surface.
"An impressive repository," he observed. "Some of these texts appear pre-Collapse, and exceedingly rare."
"I've had time to collect," Mrs. Chen replied cryptically, gesturing toward her small sitting area. "Please, be comfortable. What we have to discuss will take some time."
Max settled into what had become "his" chair during their previous consultations, while Mentis perched on the edge of a worn sofa, his posture rigidly perfect.
"Before we begin," Mrs. Chen said, preparing tea with practiced movements, "I should clarify my background, as it contextualizes everything that follows."
She placed three cups on the small table between them, then straightened, fixing Mentis with that penetrating gaze that always made Max feel transparent.
"I am not from this Earth," she stated without preamble. "I come from a parallel reality that experienced its own version of what you call The Collapse, centuries before yours occurred."
To his credit, Mentis didn't immediately dismiss her claim. His expression remained neutral, analytical. "You're claiming to be an interdimensional refugee."
"Not claiming, Dr. Thorne. Simply informing." Mrs. Chen poured the tea with elegant precision. "My world's dimensional boundaries failed catastrophically approximately three hundred years ago, as measured by your timeline. I was among a small group who developed methods to transfer consciousness across realities before complete collapse."
Mentis accepted the tea cup automatically, his mind visibly processing her statements. "Consciousness transfer rather than physical transit would explain the absence of extradimensional matter signatures." He took a careful sip. "Fascinating hypothesis. What evidence supports your claim?"
Mrs. Chen smiled slightly. "A scientist to the core." She set down her cup and moved to the cabinet Max had seen before, retrieving the silk-wrapped crystalline device. "Perhaps this will provide a starting point."
She unwrapped the object and placed it on the table. Even inactive, it emanated a faint, otherworldly quality that seemed to distort the air around it slightly.
Mentis leaned forward, eyes widening fractionally—the equivalent of open-mouthed shock from anyone else. "This technology... the molecular configuration is unlike anything in our current theoretical models."
"Because it operates on principles your science hasn't yet discovered," Mrs. Chen explained. "Reality anchoring through quantum consensus reinforcement."
The phrase seemed to trigger something in Mentis's encyclopedic memory. "Related to the 'Consensus Avatar' designation the entity applied to Mr. Peterson yesterday."
"Precisely," Mrs. Chen confirmed, glancing at Max. "Your confrontation with the Convergence Engineer accelerated our timeline considerably. They are harbingers of final-stage reality degradation."
"Convergence Engineer," Mentis repeated, testing the term. "The armored entity's purpose is engineering convergence between realities?"
"In a manner of speaking," Mrs. Chen said. "Though 'convergence' in this context refers less to realities merging and more to their collective dissolution into something else entirely."
She activated the crystalline device with a precise touch sequence. It hummed softly, projecting a holographic display unlike any technology Max had seen in New Harbor. The image showed multiple spheres representing different realities, gradually collapsing inward toward a central point.
"All realities eventually degrade," Mrs. Chen explained. "Dimensional boundaries thin, rifts appear, and ultimately, existence itself unravels. The Engineers don't cause this process—they manage it, ensuring it follows specific patterns."
"For what purpose?" Mentis asked, his scientific curiosity clearly engaged despite the extraordinary claims.
"That remains unclear," Mrs. Chen admitted. "In my world, theories ranged from nihilistic entropy worship to beliefs that reality dissolution was merely a transition to some higher state of existence."
"Neither hypothesis appears empirically verifiable," Mentis noted.
"Not by those who don't survive the process," Mrs. Chen agreed with grim humor.
Max, who had been following the exchange silently, finally spoke up. "The Engineer yesterday said its primary objective was 'acceleration'—that our reality's degradation was proceeding too slowly."
Mrs. Chen nodded. "They maintain timetables beyond our comprehension. Perhaps your reality has shown unexpected resilience, disrupting their schedule."
"The Awakened," Mentis theorized, mind working visibly. "Powered individuals emerging after The Collapse—they could represent an adaptive response to degradation. The system developing antibodies, so to speak."
"A reasonable hypothesis," Mrs. Chen acknowledged. "Though incomplete."
She turned to Max, expression softening slightly. "Some adaptations are more significant than others. Max represents something unique—a direct manifestation of collective consciousness influencing physical reality."
"The rumors becoming real," Max simplified.
Mentis was silent for a long moment, processing everything with remarkable composure. Finally, he set down his teacup with careful precision.
"Assuming your account is accurate," he said to Mrs. Chen, "and recent evidence suggests it may well be, the implications are... profound. Not merely for scientific understanding, but for survival strategy."
"Indeed," she agreed. "Conventional approaches—containing rifts, closing portals—are treating symptoms rather than the disease. Like bailing water from a sinking ship without patching the holes."
"Yet those efforts have shown measurable success," Mentis pointed out. "Anomaly rates decreased by 17% under our containment protocols."
"Temporary mitigation," Mrs. Chen countered. "The Engineers' appearance indicates we've entered endgame scenarios. Your containment efforts merely delay the inevitable unless more fundamental interventions are applied."
"What kind of interventions?" Max asked, the central question finally emerging. "You mentioned your world tried technological solutions that ultimately failed."
Mrs. Chen gestured to the crystalline device. "Reality anchoring technology. Devices planted at strategic locations to reinforce dimensional boundaries. They worked, briefly, but ultimately accelerated the collapse by creating conflicting energy patterns."
"A resonance cascade effect," Mentis hypothesized. "Attempting to reinforce reality created interference patterns that amplified the very instabilities being addressed."
"Precisely," Mrs. Chen confirmed, seeming impressed by his quick understanding.
"Then what options remain?" Mentis asked, the practical scientist emerging through his theoretical fascination.
Mrs. Chen's gaze shifted to Max. "A different approach. One uniquely possible in this reality due to Max's nature as a Consensus Avatar."
"My rumor powers?" Max asked skeptically. "How does being able to punch harder because people think I can help with dimensional collapse?"
"Because your ability represents a fundamental shift in how this reality functions," Mrs. Chen explained. "The boundary between belief and physical manifestation has thinned—not just for you specifically, but systemically. You're simply the most pronounced example of the phenomenon."
Mentis's eyes narrowed in thought. "You're suggesting reality itself has become more... malleable. More responsive to collective perception."
"Yes. And that malleability could be our salvation rather than our destruction." Mrs. Chen leaned forward intently. "If properly focused, collective belief might reinforce reality rather than technology trying to force reinforcement."
"People believing the world won't end... stops the world from ending?" Max asked, the concept simultaneously absurd and profound.
"Oversimplified, but essentially correct," Mrs. Chen confirmed. "Mass consensus creating quantum stabilization through focused intent."
"And Max serves as the conduit," Mentis concluded, the pieces falling into place. "A focal point where consensus manifests physically."
Mrs. Chen nodded. "The Engineer recognized this potential—why it targeted him specifically. Consensus Avatars represent an unexpected variable in their carefully managed dissolution process."
Max felt the weight of their combined attention like a physical pressure. "So no pressure or anything. I just need to somehow channel the collective belief of an entire city to stabilize reality itself."
"The task is formidable," Mrs. Chen acknowledged. "But not impossible. Especially with scientific and mystical approaches working in concert rather than opposition."
She looked meaningfully at Mentis, who sat silent for several moments, processing everything with remarkable composure. Finally, he spoke.
"Your theory defies conventional scientific paradigms," he said carefully. "Yet recent observations increasingly suggest conventional paradigms are insufficient for current phenomena." He straightened slightly. "I am... open to exploring alternative approaches."
Coming from Mentis, this was practically a revolutionary declaration. Max felt a surge of hope for the first time since encountering the Convergence Engineer.
"So what's the plan?" he asked, looking between his two mentors.
"First, we need more information," Mentis said, practical as always. "The Guardian research initiative into dimensional anomalies needs redirection toward understanding consensus effects rather than merely containment."
"Carefully," Mrs. Chen cautioned. "Too much knowledge spreading too quickly could create panic rather than focused belief."
"Agreed," Mentis nodded. "Controlled information distribution through trusted channels."
"Like Harbor News?" Max suggested, thinking of Mr. Donovan's commitment to reliable information.
"Precisely," Mrs. Chen confirmed. "And through Max himself—both as courier and as Rumor. Building a narrative that reinforces reality rather than acknowledging its dissolution."
"Fighting rumors with rumors," Max said with a slight smile. "Poetic."
"Indeed," Mentis said, rising. "I should return to Guardian Tower immediately to begin resource reallocation. Our approach to the dimensional crisis requires significant revision."
He turned to Mrs. Chen with what appeared to be genuine respect. "Your insights are... invaluable. I would welcome continued consultation as we develop this new strategy."
"My knowledge is at your disposal, Doctor," she replied with equal formality. "Though I suggest our collaboration remain discreet for now. The fewer individuals who know of my origins, the better."
"Agreed. Information compartmentalization remains prudent." Mentis collected his case, which Max noticed he hadn't even opened. "Max, I'll contact you through secure channels about your role in the revised containment—or rather, reinforcement—protocols."
After Mentis departed, Max turned to Mrs. Chen with a mixture of hope and lingering anxiety. "Think it'll work? Getting a scientist like Mentis to believe in the power of belief?"
"Scientists believe in what they observe," Mrs. Chen replied thoughtfully. "And Dr. Thorne has observed enough anomalous phenomena to recognize when old models require revision." She smiled slightly. "Besides, he's more adaptable than he appears."
Max hoped she was right. Because according to her timeline, they had less than six months to prevent the complete unraveling of reality itself.
And somewhere out there, armored figures were working just as diligently to ensure reality fell apart right on schedule.