Chapter 25: The Powers Practice
I made the test drink at 11:47 PM on January 15th, after closing Central Perk and walking home through winter wind that cut through my coat.
Blue and yellow swirled together in the coffee—confident hope, the combination I'd used on Rachel weeks ago. The lights blended smoothly, holding their pattern until the infusion completed.
I tried adding green.
The moment the third color touched the liquid, pain split my skull like someone had driven an ice pick through my left eye.
I dropped the mug. It shattered on the kitchen floor, coffee spreading across cheap linoleum while I gripped the counter and tried not to vomit.
The headache lasted twenty minutes. Not long by Tagged Search standards, but enough to teach me the lesson: two colors maximum. Three was beyond my current ability.
I cleaned up the broken mug and documented everything in my coded notebook:
Color combinations: MAX 2 at current skill level Three colors = immediate severe headache Daily infusion limit: ~15-20 before fatigue sets in Individual color duration: 2-4 hours per person Current mastery: blue, yellow, green, orange (4/10 possible)
Four months since arriving in this world. 120 days of practice and testing. Time to push harder.
The next two days were systematic experimentation.
I used fifteen infusions on January 16th—various combinations, different customers, documenting reactions. By 8 PM my hands felt heavy and the lights came slower, like drawing water from a nearly-dry well.
That was the limit. Fifteen to twenty per day depending on complexity.
I tested vision duration by tracking three specific customers I'd given blue light on the morning of the 16th. Used Passive Glimpse to see their futures, then watched to confirm.
Customer one: job interview at 2 PM (vision confirmed). Blue light effect lasted until approximately 4:30 PM based on her energy level.
Customer two: difficult conversation with family at 6 PM (vision confirmed). Effect lasted until roughly 8 PM.
Customer three: presentation at work the next morning (vision confirmed timing). Effect duration: approximately 3 hours.
Average: 2-4 hours. Shorter for high-stress situations, longer for ambient support.
All of it went in the notebook. Data accumulation. Understanding my tools.
On January 17th at midnight, I decided to use Tagged Search for the first time since arriving.
The power had a seven-day cooldown. I'd been saving it, not sure what to search for, waiting for the right question.
Now I had one: Central Perk ownership changes.
I made coffee in my tiny kitchen, hands steady despite nervousness. Focused hard on the tag—specific, relevant, crucial to my plans.
The drink looked normal. No light, no indication anything was different.
I drank it.
The vision hit like a freight train.
Terry sitting in the back office, talking to a man I didn't recognize. Papers spread on the desk. Terry's voice: "—thinking forty-two thousand for the equipment and business. The lease transfers separately with Mr. Kaplan's approval."
The scene shifted.
Calendar on the wall showing February 20th. Thirty-five days from now.
Another shift.
Two potential buyers looking around Central Perk during off-hours. One pointing at the espresso machine, the other taking notes.
Shift again.
Sale price written on paper: $42,000. Lease terms: $2,800/month. Mr. Kaplan's signature at the bottom.
The vision dissolved and pain replaced it.
I made it to the couch before my legs gave out. The headache wasn't debilitating—medium-level, according to the power description—but it was brutal. Throbbing agony that made light unbearable and thinking difficult.
I lay in the dark for six hours while Manhattan moved outside my window, processing what I'd seen.
Terry was selling Central Perk in 35 days for $42,000.
The price was manageable. Not easy, but possible. And I had advance warning—time to secure financing, make my offer, beat other buyers to the punch.
Information is power. I'd just gained the most important piece yet.
The headache faded around 6 AM. I called in sick to the morning shift—first time since arriving—and spent the day planning.
Terry - 9:15 AM (January 17th)
Terry noticed Gunther's absence immediately and felt oddly concerned.
The kid never called in sick. Ever. Showed up on time, worked efficiently, never complained. The model employee in every way except personality—Gunther was quiet to the point of invisible sometimes.
But lately he'd been different. More engaged. Had a girlfriend now, that Sarah girl who seemed genuinely into him. Talked to the regulars more. Even the gang had started treating him like an actual person instead of the coffee dispenser.
Maybe he's just got the flu, Terry thought. Nothing to worry about.
But the timing was strange. Terry had just started seriously considering retirement, thinking about selling Central Perk and moving to Florida where his sister lived.
He hadn't told anyone yet. Was still working up the courage to actually list the business.
Probably nothing, he told himself. Just coincidence.
Still, he made a mental note to keep an eye on Gunther when he returned. Something felt off.
I came back to work January 18th with my plan half-formed and my head still slightly tender.
Thirty-five days to secure $42,000. I had $1,847 in savings—good progress from the $847 I'd started with, but nowhere near enough.
I needed investors. Needed people willing to bet on me, on Central Perk's future, on the promise of return on investment.
I had nine wealthy regulars. Time to find out if four months of strategic power use had actually built real relationships or just customer loyalty.
The afternoon shift was slow. I served coffee and watched the gang argue about something relating to Ross's custody arrangement with Carol. They'd become comfortable enough with my presence to have personal conversations within earshot.
Progress. But not what I needed right now.
At 7 PM, Sarah arrived for our date—art gallery opening in SoHo, her friend's work, formal enough that I'd borrowed a blazer from the theater costume shop (Joey's hookup, no questions asked).
The gallery was white walls and pretentious descriptions, wine in plastic cups, people discussing "composition" and "emotional resonance."
Sarah looked beautiful. Black dress, hair down, confidence that came from actually understanding art instead of pretending.
We looked at paintings together. She explained techniques and influences. I nodded and tried to look intelligent.
"You hate this," she said after the third painting.
"I don't hate it. I just... don't understand it?"
"That's fair. Not everyone connects with abstract work." She gestured at a canvas that looked like someone had spilled paint randomly. "This one is about chaos and order existing simultaneously."
"It looks like a accident."
She laughed. "Maybe it was. Good art doesn't have to be intentional."
We got more wine and found a quiet corner while her friend gave a speech about artistic vision.
"Can I ask you something?" Sarah said.
"Sure."
"Where is this going?"
The question caught me off-guard. "What do you mean?"
"Us. This." She gestured between us. "We've been dating three weeks. It's good. Really good. But I need to know if you're thinking long-term or just... seeing where it goes."
I could have lied. Should have, probably. Said something about potential and taking it slow and seeing what happens.
Instead, I told her the truth.
"I think we have maybe three months," I said. "Maybe six if we're lucky. Not because anything's wrong, just because... you're not long-term for me and I don't think I'm long-term for you. But right now, we're perfect for each other. And that matters."
Sarah studied my face for a long moment. "That's incredibly honest."
"Is that bad?"
"No. It's refreshing." She took a sip of wine. "I agree, actually. You're wonderful, but we want different things eventually. I can feel it. Doesn't mean this isn't worth doing."
"Exactly."
We kissed in the corner of a gallery while people discussed emotional resonance, and it felt right. Not forever. Just for now.
That was enough.
Sarah - 8:47 PM
Sarah Martinez had dated enough guys to recognize when someone was being genuine versus when they were performing.
Gunther was genuine. Almost painfully so.
Three to six months. Most guys would have lied, said they saw potential for more, kept the relationship going as long as possible.
Gunther had looked her in the eye and said this has an expiration date.
And somehow, that made her like him more.
He wasn't using her. Wasn't pretending. Just being honest about what they were: compatible for now, not forever.
I can work with that, she thought. Enjoy it while it lasts, part as friends when it ends.
She kissed him again and thought: This is healthy. This is good.
Not every relationship needed to last forever to matter.
I walked Sarah home around 10 PM, kissed her goodnight, and headed to my apartment thinking about timelines.
Three to six months with Sarah. Thirty-five days to buy Central Perk. Four months since arriving in this world.
Everything was accelerating. The slow build was becoming rapid execution.
In my studio apartment, I pulled out the notebook and added final notes:
Tagged Search successful - Central Perk sale in 35 days, $42,000 asking price Cooldown: 7 days remaining (next use: January 24th) Current savings: $1,847 Gap needed: $40,153 Time available: 35 days Wealthy regulars available: 9 Plan: approach investors starting January 20th
The numbers looked impossible on paper. But I had advantages canon Gunther never had—powers that built genuine connections, foreknowledge of business success, determination born from dying alone and getting a second chance.
I closed the notebook and went to bed thinking about loans and interest rates and the terrifying prospect of asking strangers for money.
Thirty-five days. The clock was ticking.
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