Amy's phone rang. It was 7:30 a.m., and she was still asleep. Her arm somehow found the phone and clicked it on.
"Hullo?"
"Up for a road trip?" Future Girl said, on the other end of the line. "Or, in our case, would that be an air trip? A flight trip?"
Amy sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Sorry. A lot has happened."
Future Girl told Amy about the fight with Madame Corruption, and how the only information she received was the Temple's leadership residing in a museum and a submarine.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Amy asked, still groggy.
"Who do we both know who had an experience at a museum?"
Amy woke up a little more. "You want to go to London?"
"It's worth investigating, right?"
"Could be."
Future Girl started describing the mathematical theory behind coincidences, but Amy decided it was too early for Mirai nerd-talk.
"You convinced me," she said. "Let's go to London. I'll call Dreamsmith."
"Is that a good idea? How much do we know about him?"
"He's cool," Amy said. "I promise."
****
Sam was still getting used to waking up in the morning and figuring out what that day's superpower was.
Even when he did remember his dreams the night before, his power still manifested itself in unexpected ways. The day earlier, he dreamt he was a musician playing the saxophone, and awoke expecting to spend the day with musical talent. Instead, the first time he opened his mouth, he almost knocked his bedroom wall down with hurricane-like lungpower. That had been another day he stayed inside his flat, not job searching.
On this morning, Sam woke with no memory of his dreams the night before, except to find his fingers and toes webbed. He doubted the ability to swim just a little faster would help him fight crime.
Sam had sent out a lot of resumes, emails, and phone calls throughout London, searching for science work and even teaching positions, but received no responses. Sam knew that a struggling economy combined with his unpredictable condition meant he would likely have to leave London soon.
The phone rang. Sam picked it up, hoping it wasn't his father.
"Hey, Dreamsmith," a familiar voice said. "Remember me?"
Sam did his best not to show his excitement. "Amy. I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again."
"I'm thinking of making another London trip," she said. "Care to give me the grand tour?"
Sam couldn't believe his ears. "Yeah, of course."
"It's time to check out the British Museum. What happened that night was part of something a lot bigger."
"I agree," Sam said, not believing he was actually talking to her.
"I can be at the museum tomorrow about noon your time," Amy said. "Future Girl is coming, too."
Sam paused. "Isn't she still in high school?"
"She's cool. I promise."
"Sure. Whatever," Sam said. "But I don't know what we'll do."
"Take us to the museum. Then, I don't know what. Show us around."
Sam almost dropped the phone. "I can do that."
They agreed on a time to meet the next morning at around noon Sam's time.
Out of habit, Sam dressed in his sharp black suit – he made sure to keep it washed and pressed – with his black cape, white scarf and top hat. Normally, Sam would have slid his white gloves over his hands, but his webbed fingers made gloves out of the question.
He left his flat and walked to Hyde Park. With not enough money to hang out at the pub all day, Sam selected an unoccupied bench along one of the park's trails. Some passersby looked at him bored amusement, and others with disgust.
He didn't feel like much of a superhero.
As it grew later in the day, Sam sat up, stretched, and went back to his flat. He microwaved some food and watched old Abbot and Costello DVDs late into the evening.
As he crawled into bed that night, he hoped to dream of something useful.
# # # #
Next: A unique perspective.