We spend two days gathering supplies, studying Rachel's encrypted files, and watching headquarters from a distance. The damping device helps me observe without affecting local reality - no quantum distortions to give away my presence.

  "The patterns are changing," I tell James as we review satellite imagery in our hotel room. "The artificial transformations the Church forced into the building... they're starting to break down."

  Through the device's stabilizing field, I can see both normal and quantum states simultaneously. The warped reality around headquarters shivers like heat waves, artificial patterns fragmenting as natural quantum frequencies reassert themselves.

  "Is that good or bad?"

  "Both." I trace ripple patterns in the air, the darkness behind my eye working with the device to show him what I see. "The forced evolution is failing, but as it breaks down..."

  "It's destabilizing local space-time," he finishes, studying my quantum projection. His voice catches slightly - the first sign that prolonged exposure to my abilities, even dampened, is affecting him. I notice his hands trembling as he types, the subtle way his eyes track movement that isn't quite there.

  James returns to his laptop, where Rachel's encrypted files shimmer between normal and quantum states. "I think I've found the resonance pattern that will lead us there. But..." He stops, rubs his temples. "Sorry. Getting harder to focus. Like everything's shifting just at the edge of vision."

  "It's the quantum bleed," I say quietly. "Even with the damping device, being around natural dimensional sensitivity for extended periods... it changes how you perceive reality."

  "I'm fine." But I catch him staring at his own hands sometimes, like he's not quite sure they're the right shape anymore. "We need to find Rachel's facility before headquarters collapses completely."

  We make our way through quiet streets toward the weak point I identified. The device keeps my quantum signature muted, but I can see how reality ripples around James now - subtle distortions in his personal space-time, his consciousness starting to perceive things it wasn't meant to process.

  "Hold up." His voice sounds strained as he pulls me into a doorway. A Church security van passes, and I feel him tense - not just from caution, but from how the van looks through his increasingly altered perception. "They're... they're not quite solid anymore. Everything's getting... fluid."

  "It's okay," I say, though we both know it isn't. "Your mind is trying to process quantum states it was never designed to handle. The Church uses rituals and ceremonies to force this kind of awareness. This is what happens when it develops naturally from exposure."

  We reach the weak point just before midnight. James stumbles slightly - spatial relationships becoming unreliable as his perception continues to shift. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool night air.

  "Ready?" His attempt at a normal tone fails as his voice resonates in frequencies that shouldn't exist.

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  "We can wait," I offer. "Give your mind time to adjust."

  "No time." He grips my hand, and I feel the tremors running through him. "Reality's getting... strange. But I can handle it. Have to handle it."

  The darkness pulses as I reach out, letting my awareness flow through the spaces where reality naturally thins. James gasps beside me as dimensions begin to overlap, his mind struggling to process what it's seeing.

  "Stay close," I tell him. "And try not to fight it. Fighting just makes the transition harder."

  We move through spaces between spaces, and I feel James's grip tighten painfully as his perception fractures further. His breathing becomes ragged, his body trying to exist in multiple states as natural quantum awareness floods his consciousness.

  "I can see... everything," he chokes out. "All possible shapes. All possible... oh god..."

  "Focus on my voice," I say as reality flows around us. "You're experiencing natural dimensional awareness without preparation. Without their artificial constraints. It's... a lot to process."

  That's an understatement. James's form begins to blur slightly at the edges, his quantum state destabilizing as his mind grapples with perceptions it was never meant to handle. I can feel him shaking, his consciousness fragmenting under the strain of seeing through too many dimensional layers simultaneously.

  "Make it stop," he whispers, but his voice contains harmonics that human vocal cords shouldn't produce. "Everything's... I can't..."

  "Almost there." I guide us deeper through quantum possibilities, trying to ignore how James's presence feels increasingly fractured. His mind is opening to natural dimensional awareness too quickly, too completely. The Church's careful rituals may be artificial, but they at least provide structure for human consciousness to handle these perceptions gradually.

  Finally, we reach Rachel's facility - though James is barely coherent by then. His form shivers between states, eyes tracking movement through multiple dimensions simultaneously. Reality warps around him as his mind tries to process sensory input from spaces it was never meant to perceive.

  "Here." I help him sit against what might be a wall, though it exists in several geometric configurations at once. "Try to breathe. Focus on one layer of reality at a time."

  "Can't." His voice resonates through quantum frequencies. "See too much. Feel too much. Everything's... everything's..."

  I catch him as he convulses, his body responding to perceptions his mind can't handle. The darkness behind my eye shows me his quantum state fragmenting, natural dimensional awareness flooding through his consciousness too fast for human neural architecture to process.

  "Stay with me," I say, holding him as reality ripples around us. "Focus on my voice. On normal space. On..."

  But James is beyond hearing now, his mind overwhelmed by natural quantum perception. His form blurs further as consciousness fragments under the strain of seeing too much, understanding too much, becoming aware of too many layers of reality simultaneously.

  I should have known this would happen. Should have realized that prolonged exposure to natural dimensional sensitivity would affect him more profoundly than the Church's controlled methods. Should have protected him better.

  The darkness pulses as I try to help him find stability between quantum states. Around us, Rachel's hidden facility waits with its answers about natural sensitivity, about what these abilities really mean.

  But first I have to help James survive becoming naturally aware of spaces human minds weren't meant to perceive. Have to help him find a way to process reality as it really exists, without the Church's artificial constraints to protect his consciousness from too much understanding too quickly.

  Time to learn what natural sensitivity really costs.

  Time to understand what happens when human minds confront quantum reality without ritual or ceremony to buffer the shock.

  The darkness pulses quietly as James shakes in my arms, his mind struggling to handle perceptions that no human consciousness was meant to process all at once.

  One quantum state at a time.

  If he survives the transition.