[ WP ] You were born without eyes or ears . However , you are omniscient within 20 feet . You 've used this to become a successful detective . Now you 're needed on a special case . They call this criminal `` the invisible man '' .

You step forward, concentrating your powers on the girl before you. She remains silent, fearful of both your appearance and of those around her. It's her first day here. 
 
 `` I'd like a number one with no onions,'' you say. You can feel her stutter coming on. To avoid making her feel even more skittish, you pre-empt her by adding, `` A small, for here. That will be it.'' 
 
 `` Seven ninety-five,'' she says at last. You hand her your bank card - or maybe it's just a really good fake of one, you have n't quite figured it out yet but no one's called you out on it thus far so it seems like a moot point - and payment for your purchase is processed quickly. She hands you a receipt. 
 
 `` Your order number is 83 and will be ready shortly,'' you both say simultaneously, her voice trailing off in the last few words, unnerved by your uncanny prediction of her exact phrasing. You attempt to take the empty cup she offers you, but while your hands are normally guided by the eyes of those around you, you have only the girl's mind to rely upon and she does n't seem to have sufficient spatial awareness, leading you to fumble around on the counter, groping for your cup. 
 
 One messy soda machine escapade later, you're sipping on a delicious lemon-lime beverage, your hand dripping in several other flavors. Your order comes ready, and you take it to an unoccupied table and begin to eat. 
 
 Your phone rings. You answer it, covering it in sugary stickiness despite your best attempts to dry your hands earlier. 
 
 `` DETECTIVE, WE NEED YOU,'' bellows the man on the other end of the line. Lieutenant Kite of the 25th Precinct. You did n't need your powers of omniscience for that one, but you quickly ponder using them later to obtain his Social Security number. `` THERE'S THIS CRIMINAL THEY CALL'THE INVISIBLE MAN' AND --'' 
 
 `` I'm at lunch, Lieutenant,'' you snap, perturbed. `` I've still got another 32 minutes. Union rules. Do n't interrupt me again.'' You angrily hammer the end call button. You unwrap your burger and take a bite. 
 
 Onions.
