Arkham feels odd, like cold soup that’s partially congealed. It feels dead, which is most disconcerting, given that there are at least three thousand people living in Arkham proper. It’s rather hard to stay calm when one doesn’t even feel real.

The most disorienting thing about Arkham is this: every other sense shows me a vibrant, thriving town. For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering which is right – what my hands feel, or what my eyes see.

I do not much like the feeling.

The walk to the University is hard; I keep having to fight to keep myself from sinking into the ground. As it is, I cannot bring myself to touch the gate.

I don’t have to, though. The professor I’ve come to find finds me first.

***

I hate my office. Dunno why, I just do. So I wander the grounds of the school, most days, scaring off the students and the wimpier of my colleagues.

God, whoever made me a professor really screwed up. Either that, or they need to test his tea for drugs.

So, I’m wandering, right? And I find this guy just standing at the main gate, staring at it like it’s gonna bite off his hands if he touches it.

Man, if he’s scared of the gate, he prolly shouldn’t be here. Before I can snark, though, he turns and looks at me.

Straight in my eyes.

No one does that – not if they wanna live. I tense, but it doesn’t rile me like it usually does. I dunno why. Maybe he’s just too damn calm – and he is, although it’s pretty damn clear he’s holding onto that calm for all he’s worth.

And that’s when it hits me – he’s got one of the deep senses. He’s got one of the deep senses, just like me, or like Jacob, and something about Arkham’s setting him off.