The Returned by Bishop O'Connell Page A

quantumly with matching hampers at Brigid’s house. One was for dirty clothes, one for clean. Her soiled clothes went into the dirty hamper, and she drew the numbers and symbols—the quantum information of reality—that floated around her into the correct equation. The contents of the hamper instantly were transported to its twin.
    Sometimes she felt guilty dumping her laundry on Brigid, or more likely someone on Brigid’s staff, but she’d insisted on, at the very least, keeping Wraith in clean clothes.
    In the clean hamper, Wraith found some black cargo pants and a black shirt with DON’T PANIC in large, friendly letters on the front.
    She smiled.
    This was a serious contender for her favorite shirt, though the one that read Don’t Mess with Me, I’m Good at Math still had a slight lead. Once dressed, she grabbed her beloved jacket. It was long and hooded, its dark brown canvas patched in several spots with leather. It was rough and road worn, but then so was she.
    Drawing up the entropic equation, she stepped through the universal junction point and emerged on a tropical island, the exact location of which she didn’t really know. It was one of the places that she’d remembered finding during the early days after escaping the Order, when she’d been teleporting, without any control whatsoever, all over the world.
    She smiled at the fresh water pond before her and the large waterfall that fed it. After stripping off her clothes, she dove in. The cool water washed away the residue of the night before, along with the dirt and sweat. In a small rocky alcove, she retrieved the soap and shampoo she kept here.
    Sure, she could just go to Brigid’s house and use the shower, but why? Would anyone if they had this option?
    Refreshed and clean, she stepped out of the water and let the hot tropical breeze dry her. She always seemed to forget to bring a towel, a huge violation for any hitchhiker.
    â€œSorry, Ford,” she said after slipping the shirt on and smiling.
    Once more she drew up the entropic equation and stepped through the universal junction point. In a single stride, she went from a small and hidden tropical island to a back alley in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The place smelled terrible, just like you’d imagine somewhere that was frequented by drunken revelers would smell the morning after.
    Focused on breathing through her mouth, she put on her sunglasses and reached into her coat pocket. From there she retrieved the cell phone Brigid had given her, plugged in the headphones, and started playing her favorite playlist of the moment. The Doubleclicks song “Now I Am the Fastest” came on, and it always made her smile. She quietly sang along as she flipped to an app no one else in the world had or could use.
    The phone looked to the world like just another smartphone, if a little battered around the edges. But it wasn’t just another smartphone, of course. She’d worked some fairly clever—if she did say so herself—magic on it so it drew from the energy around it; kinetic, heat, microwave, even dark energy. Thus it never ran out of power or needed to be recharged. The app opened, and she entered Edward’s cell phone number. Drawing in the required formulation from the quantum information floating around her, she hit the Find button. A long and complicated equation began unravelling from the phone. It spread quickly, and while it was capable of reaching out to every location at the same time—quantum superposition is a fun toy if you know how to use it—she limited the range to the city of New Orleans. No need to waste time searching for Edward’s phone in places she knew it wouldn’t be.
    â€œDr. Huntington, I presume,” she said as a small dot appeared on her screen. To her surprise, it was only a few blocks away.
    Briefly, she thought about trying to find Benji and his crew first, but she reminded herself of