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Rachel dreams - spoilers for the end of the Animorphs series

Her pace is steady, if only because anything that isn't steady calls her attention and gives her something to be angry at, and even Rachel finds it difficult to get mad at her own feet. Plodding along with her little bag slung over one shoulder, chewing numbly on some of the bread from yesterday's dinner, hardly looking around her. It's just another road in another state probably with another town that needs a thug tossed out of it or something. Doesn't need her, just needs anybody.

What's the point?

Grumbling to herself, a very tired, very cranky blonde continues on.

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"Not exactly randomly. A lot of it came from what we were in life. And what we were doing when the wave hit."

He adjusts his tie, self conciously.

"I was one of the premier stockbrokers in my field, which earned me the prophecy bit."

Rachel looks impressed. ...okay, no, but she has a feeling he expects her to.

So she stares at him for a couple of seconds before shrugging. "Huh. Okay.

"Well, uh... nice talkin' to you, Mort, but I should get going."

The weirdness of talking to a CD for a good length of time is starting to hit her.

"Searching for your way?" He winks at her. "You looked... lost."

...don't wink at her. It makes Rachel make a face at the shiny CD.

"I think you have to have a goal in mind to get lost," she grumbles, frowning at him.

"I was speaking, perhaps, more mentally then literally." There's a limit to the amount of actions one can perform when one is imprisoned in a reflection.

Rachel arches a brow, waiting.

Metaphors, she is not too interested in.

"You seem as if you have no direction." In an effort to clear things up.

"I said that."

Actually, she said she didn't have a goal in mind. But technicalities are not for irritable blondes talking to CDs.

"What do you care?"

"Part of my job is to look out for people." He leans back, his face receding from the CD. "To help them with their goals, even if it's just finding out what those goals are."

Rachel frowns.

"To muck around in people's lives, that's what you mean. I've had enough of that, thanks."

"I prefer to aide, rather the muck. The future is coming, and as it stands, it's not so bright."

"The future is always coming and it's never bright," Rachel points out, unfazed - or at least pretending like she is. "And people who have enough power to aide always end up mucking.

"Even if they're stuck to an AOL start-up disc."

"It could be bright, if the right things happen." The light shines off all the other discs for a moment. "There'sa possibility, of all this being fixed."

Rachel snorts, giving off the impression that Mort is not the brightest of gods. "For how long? One year? Two? A hundred? What about after that? If something breaks and you fix it, it can still get broken again. It might even be easier to break it. You're not impressing anybody, but your klepto-followers," she says, gesturing at the trees and their shiny decorations.

"It's not meant to be impressive. It's meant to be helpful." Mort is like the OnStar of gods.

...best comparison ever.

"I didn't ask for help," Rachel points out.

"No, but you looked like you might need it."

"Newsflash, bald man in the CD: people aren't always what they look like."

Though some guidance wouldn't be unwelcome. It's the asking for it that's making her choke.

"Really?" His eyes twinkle. "Fine, fine. Then I guess there's nothing I can do for you."

"That's right."

Isn't it?

'Prophecy and Reflection.' She's not even sure what that means.

"Yes?" He tilts his head to one side. "In laymens terms, I know the future, and can see anywhere there's a reflection."

She hates mind-readers, too. Rachel scowls and thinks that really hard in his direction.

"...anywhere?"

That's the problem with acting before thinking - Rachel looks like she wants to swallow the question back a moment later.

It's a good thing he doesn't read minds, just body language. "Absolutely anywhere."

Frowning again, Rachel drops her gaze, inspecting the ground silently.

It would help if the one person she really wanted lived near anything that reflected him.

Though it doesn't really matter. She already knows he isn't there.

He will mourn you for the rest of his days.

But the place might be.

She rattles off the name, a California coastal city, gives the precise location - for the woods. "I need to know if there's been a hawk that's... acted strangely."

There is a flicker, as Mort checks for reflections around there. "There has been. There might be again. Two have come and gone, one may appear on the wings of fire." Prophecy isn't all that great with the details.