This was a Tuesday, when we found her message. I would certainly honor her request at the 8 and 10 o’clock hours. It also occurred to me that following night, Wednesday Night, was a storytelling session at the tavern, in none other than Shermer. We’d certainly think of her at those times. Better yet, we’d be there.

First, we had to catch the tavern guys up to speed. A lot had happened since our previous Wednesday.

“So let me get this straight,” the tavern ring leader was on the edge of his seat, interrupting my recount of the last week’s events. “You leapt up into a higher reality, met 12 gods who freed you from the Universal Union’s clutches. And now you’re traversing the expanses of the multiverse in hot pursuit of Kitty, who you haven’t seen since?”

“That about covers it,” I said.

The crowd was thicker this evening, inside that hazy, lamplit tavern. A few guys were going to go up and share their tales, but the group ultimately relinquished the floor to me, Bill Thunderbird, and crew.

A beat. And then I filled the baited silence.

“We’re actually here with an ulterior motive, this evening,” I admitted to our weekly club. “Yes, we couldn’t wait to share our latest adventures with you fine folks. But our presence—all 13 of us in attendance tonight—serve a secondary purpose. Kitty’s note that she left in the ’80s Earth inn said that she’d be thinking of us and Shermer and the tavern, every night at 10 p.m. And it’s 9:51 right now. Might I ask for a moment of silence, right when the clock strikes 10?”

I looked around at the room. Each head gave me a gentle nod in deference to the news I was delivering.

“Let’s all take that moment to think of the things we miss about Kitty,” I continued. “Think of your favorite moments shared with her. Anything to evoke her spirit into this room at 10. She’ll be thinking of us too.”

I stopped talking. Again, silence, amidst the heaviness from my news. Another beat.

“Then, what?” the ringleader was always good to break tension.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She’s a dimension leaper in training now, though. Maybe we’ll manifest her here tonight.”

Nine minutes ticked to eight minutes. Then, to seven. No one spoke, as we mentally and spiritually prepared to beckon Kitty from the ether.

Three minutes, two, one…

The clock struck 10.

The pressure in that room dropped like atmospheric air before a storm. The entire tavern—the people, clinking glasses and gentle din of ambient sounds you’d usually hear in the background—all came to halt. In their place sat a palpable silence, as we all concentrated on our memories of Kitty.

The 13 of our crew and all the tavern guys formed a circle in that back room, reserving space in the center for whatever may happen. In the absolute perfectness of this quiet, the moment at its most heaviest, suddenly sparked an inside crackle of thunder. A flash. Then a louder thunder clap, as full lightning originated from the center of the room. A ball lightning orb grew from a pinpoint in that spot to 10 feet in diameter. The normally dimly lit room built to brilliant, blinding white. In the center of the sphere, squinting I could see the beautiful black silhouette of a woman. The orb light calmed down to the usual tavern lighting. The din quieted down and the dust settled. Still, no one spoke.

And in the center of the room, stood Kitty.

I had kept my helmet on our entire time, meditating on manifesting her. It amplified my abilities the way passing a radio signal through the Sun blasted electromagnetic signals well beyond normal range, into deep space. My eyes welled up in tears, but luckily no one could see that. I was so happy to see her.

“Hi, guys,” she said, as if she had just popped in from the cold.

***