In-Tuition

Gloria Josper had some of the best intuition there was available. Some said that when fate gave it all away, she lucked out. Others thought she just cheated at everything. A few would consider her a genius. But there was just one thing everyone could agree on- Her friends, her family, her acquaintances, her interviewers, her pets. No matter the situation, she simply seemed to know things. It was almost like she was psychic. ..

Of course, this did have it's ups and downs. Gloria was no

longer allowed to buy pre-specified lottery tickets or bet or sometimes even play ball (?). Nobody wanted to ask her about anything like her opinion on the best soccer team or show her any interesting riddles. She was just a lot less fun now that she could basically predict the future. She was treated like a freak in some, very certain places. She never really got to enjoy suspense.

But... She could help people. A lot. She was automatically very popular. She didn't struggle with money management (or, in fact nearly any management) in the absolute slightest. She was often asked how she could tell the future. And the past. And the present.

Without any resources. She did love the look of awe on peoples faces when she told a stranger their favourite colour or predicted when the next Marvel movie would be announced two days ahead of time.

Oh, Gloria Josper was rather full of herself, alright, but hadn't she well-earned it? Wasn't it fair to say that you thought yourself amazing with abilities so fantastical?

Anyhow, that was Gerald C. Cunningham thought. He only thought it appropriate that he would ask if his son, George, who was very faithful in his instincts but, well, nearly always wrong, could learn from her.

And that is how our story starts.

"...but if their breathing slows down they're most likely telling the truth-- No, not like THAT, she's lying! More like this..."

A deep inhalation.

As Gloria exhaled slowly, her student jumped up happily.

"So- HE'S the only one who's not lying??''

"Him and Robin. But yes."

George jumped up happily, crying out 'Yesssss!', his face ridden

with victory.

"Well done. Knew you would get that right."

George scowled.

"Anyway," Gloria said, ruffling the frowning boys' hair affectionately, "I have to get going. Just got a call for some lost tourists or whatever."

"OK..." George said, staring absentmindedly at the crystallised fruit basket as his tutor walked out.

"AY!" Gloria snapped her fingers as she left. "Leave those as they are, Cunningham."

"Mhm."

Gloria sighed, knowing full well she would have to restock her candied apples on the way back.

Anyway, the tourists.

Getting lost is what they're best at, apart from being way too confident, which makes them an absolute pain to deal with.

After a short walk, the tower, ever on a slight lean, was in sight. Obviously, there were two of them- a clueless American man around 5'5" and a very short Indian 15 year old boy. They both looked very distressed, and when Glory arrived, they both told her (she didn't actually understand the fifteen year old, but she got the gist of it, of course) how they'd been meaning to get to Rome but they miscalculated and hit Pisa instead and blah blah blah blah, scared traveller stuff.

"Well, I brought a map." Gloria said, handing one over. "That should be better. We're... Here, let me highlight where we are. And there's a hotel 30 metres down there and to the right. It's called 'Hotel Pisa Tower'."

"Subtle."

"Yeah, I know."

"But... It said on the news it wasn't safe there. We were gonna come here but we heard that so we changed our map... Or at least, we thought we did."

Idiots.

"Riiight, you must've looked at the wrong news station." Gloria replied, upset at being challenged.

The 5'5" man scowled, then turned and marched off, the boy on tow.

When Gloria returned home, she realised she'd forgotten to restock on candied fruit. Odd, and quite unlike her, but fine.

"Hi!!" She expected to hear, but George wasn't where she expected him to be. In fact, he wasn't anywhere in the house. Gloria checked the clock. 7:41. Late, for the circumstance, sure, but not what she had expected- She thought he'd go a little before 8:30. It was summer, and his intuition was still in Beta, so he might stay reading in the sunlight for hours at a time- In fact, he often did.

Well, whatever- It was inconsequential. Well, perhaps quite rude and out of character to eat her food and then leave with no warning (or, at least, the disappearing part was- It wasn't uncommon for George to help himself to Glorias' stash, and she didn't really care, since she always knew ahead of time).

She wasn't without entertainment, of course- So she simply sighed, sat on her sofa and switched the screen to stupid scores. She did enjoy cricket replays. Of course, she knew immediately that Team 2 would win- It was obvious, to her, at least.

But it was fun to watch them bat back and forth, and hear the roar of excitement over a question that clearly spelt out its' own answer on repeat.

Team 2, Team 2, Team 2, Gloria mentally cheered.

"AND TEAM ONE ARE THE WINNERS!"

What? Gloria blinked, surprised, then picked up her phone to receive the incoming text message that then proceeded to never come.

Annoying. Who had she pissed off through existence now? Honestly, it was kind of hurtful how personally people took a bit of sixth sense.

But, of course, that wasn't her main worry now. What was was what her slipping like this might mean. She never really checked to see if the people she helped ended up OK, unless it was a paid gig. Did that mean she'd... She'd...?

As though it read her mind (which Gloria felt like the world did on a very regular basis), the news flashed over her screen, telling a tragic tale of the lives lost and being lost all over the world right now, and those to be lost, building into the (LIVE!! BREAKING NEWS) story of the Leaning Tower of Pisa right now. Apparently it had fallen (a terrible detonated attack), and created a city wide domino cascade, killing hundreds of people every second. According to the reporter, rescuers were scrambling to help ease the frantic panic and save as many lives as possible, though they were only human and could only do so much.

Gloria felt a bone-deep chill overwhelm her as bile rose in her throat. It was only 2124, and though technology had come to a sort of halt recently, everyone was sure the tower would stay up. Nobody expected... This.

But what hurt most, and it may have been selfish, was the personal aspect. Gloria imagined she could see the faces of those she'd sent to their deaths, clutching each other and shaking in fear.

Of course, she couldn't. The news camera angle wasn't that close, and anyway, she was an intuitive genius, not a darn psychic.

Although, she supposed, now she was neither. All she was now was a red-handed, dirty, contaminated killer. By accident, she thought.

Still the reason they died, she thought back.

And... Was George really OK? Oh God, he'd been unexpectedly gone without a trace and she hadn't even been bothered to worry about more than how impolite he was for disappearing. Oh God.

Nonono, Gloria thought, as her phone rang, a call from Gerald C. Cunningham or whatever his stupid over-fancy name was.

Terrified, Gloria picked up, hands shaking, and did not speak?

"Hello? Josper?" Cunningham asked, then apparently reassured himself that she was there. "It's about George. He's-"

Glorias' world began to spin, meshing black and white and green and grey and colours that looked like red an blue combined, somehow, colours she'd never seen before, before landing neatly in a small, white bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello, Glory." A tall, blonde woman in hospital uniform smiled. "We regret to inform you that you've been in a cancer-induced coma for the past twelve years."