"You're writing a book?

"Many newspeople do. Most don't get published."

"I doubt there's much about me you don't already know."

"What about your time in the First World War?"

"That didn't last very long, and in most ways was unremarkable."

"You did fight in the trenches, though."

"For a short period."

"What do you remember about that? Does anything stand out?"

"I was lying in a burned-out basement, with the full Moon in my eyes," said Aaron, quietly. "I was hoping my relief would arrive soon, so I could go get something to eat. Suddenly, a parachute flare lit up the entire area.

"The whole scene was very surreal, as was much of that war, especially at night. Adding to the unreality I was sick, feverish, lightheaded and almost hallucinating. As the light from the flare faded, I wasn't certain it was real when several French soldiers rushed into the basement, and prepared to go over the top. The sergeant with them ordered me to get ready, too. Only, just then a runner came up, saluted the sergeant and handed him a letter. The sergeant opened it, read it, then walked over to me. He verified my identity, then held out the letter.

"'This seems to be your lucky day. Here are your new orders.' It was my transfer to a French artillery unit, effective immediately."

"That was where you were gassed, and likely empowered," said Melody.

"Weeks later. Yes, that was my lucky day. I eventually learned that all those soldiers - except for the sergeant, who stayed behind in the basement - died in that assault."