Bitch Teen says she wants a "real heist." The kind where we take the big prize, the one that's kept just out of reach at all times.

"You mean the Discs?"

"Yeah, whatever you wanna call them. The golden tablets, the real news, the true story. I want that."

They call them "the Discs" for a reason. The Aten, the Eye of Ra, the Moon Disk, Gold Records (Perry Como's hit single "Catch a Falling Star" and Glen Miller's "Chattanooga Choo Choo"), acetate, rare Strudelsoft, Holographic Versatile Disc... all mythical embodiments of the spheres of the Qliphoth, as laid out on a cheap subway map.

What the wannabes and the greenhorns don't understand is that getting ahold of the instructions isn't the treasure they think it is. Sure, it'll show you some shortcuts, some backdoors, some kill-switches... a lot of a psychic lockpicker's skillset is straight out of that book. But in the end, it's just another blueprint for a prison.

"Sure," I said. I didn't want to seem unsupportive.

"Great. I want to reach out and grab them with my hands." █ a⃠d⃠a⃠d⃠

Skills don’t do you any good unless you know what to do with them. It’s important to set goals.

Bitch Teen and I were already getting on each other’s nerves in our tiny room. It was a regular Psyhigh double, two twin beds shoved in a shoebox, basically, with a view of the brick wall of the next wing.

“The world’s our oyster, honey,” I told her. “We’ve just got to open it up.”

So I spun the tumblers till we saw an opening. It’s the bright, clear light you’re looking for, not hazy and smokey. I jimmied it till I heard the gentle tinkle of the pins and rolled the plug.

Bitch Teen donned her Gloves of Power and opened the door.

Now we’ve got a penthouse quad to ourselves, overlooking the commons and the gardens in the distance. But Bitch Teen still leaves her stuff all over the place. We’ve got to work on that. █ a⃠d⃠a⃠d⃠

When you’re a psychic lockpicker there are a lot of temptations. There’s robbing the past for future opportunities, and then there’s robbing the future for opportunities in the past. It’s all a matter of which way you pick the locks.

My roommate, Bitch Teen, doesn’t believe in the past or the future. Only the now. When she dons her Gloves of Power she forces the now into the shape she wants.

I think we’ll make a good team. █ a⃠d⃠a⃠d⃠

On my first day everything was like parts of a lock, fitting together. I walked through while the gears moved.

My grandma said to me "Zero, Fate = Predestination + Freewill."

I'm a psychic lockpicker. █ a⃠d⃠a⃠d⃠