Cognitive Deviance

71. Estranged

October 25, 2045 - 8:35 PM

Carl felt like a stone bouncing off the walls of a well, descending into the cold water below, as his footsteps resounded through Psychwatch's barren hallways. Stricken with deep sadness and regret, a sensation that felt as if a chunk of ice was forced into his skull, right between his eyes. His shoulders slumped, and the floor beneath him held his gaze. That was it for the day. A car ride back to his apartment awaited him, where he'd trudge through his scattered belongings left behind by his colleagues on that fateful day, leaving them on the floor to remind himself what they thought of him.

A potential threat. A potential suspect behind the wave of violence and insanity. Another patient in dire need of treatment.

Traversing the halls, Carl felt that he'd lost the sensation in his fingers, as if gusts of wind brushed past the bare flesh where they should've been. He believed the next step he'd take would send him tumbling down a flight of stairs with no end in sight. No end until his body came to an abrupt halt at the very bottom, crashing into the floor or a wall, and his neck snapped with a spine-tingling crunch.

He was dissociating.

Let me stay in the light, he thought, hoping the other alters could hear. Let me stay until we get home. Then you can whisk me away.

Carl blinked his eyes, glaring at his LED ring. It didn't feel like his possession. It didn't feel like his fingers. Or his hand or arm. Someone else wanted control, and they craved it so deeply, they wanted him gone.

Breathe...

Oxygen poured into his lungs, and carbon dioxide blew back out. The ice against his head melted away. He knew the ground where he stood. Psychwatch's headquarters. The entrance to the east wing, the vacant lobby before him. Most of his colleagues remained in the surveillance room, studying Margo as she overcame another psychotic episode, overcoming it better than he'd overcome any of his sorts of episodes. Outside, hazy lights and colossal holograms bathed the city of Philadelphia.

It was snowing. In Philadelphia. In October. Outrageous. Impossible even! Or years ago, it would have been. The earth's weather grew as volatile and mistreated as its human inhabitants.

With a deep breath, Carl stepped out into the cool evening air.

He knew real snow well, and the ashy flakes descending upon his city were certainly not it. He couldn't recall the first time he'd noticed such a deviance in the weather, but with the snowfall came a pungent odor reminiscent of smoke and gasoline, and he pondered whether it was snow that fell from the skies or the scorched remains of California's ever-burning forests, expelled to the East Coast by powerful winds. Why anyone would overlook the vandalism that plagued such a force of nature, instead preferring to slide around in the jet-black slush and build snowmen that reeked of arson, Carl would never know.

Positioned at the edge of the steps, Carl scanned his surroundings to find his nephew sitting on the steps at the very bottom, leaning against the wall.

"Holden?" he said, making his way down.

Holden didn't look back at him, but Carl could hear that he was crying. By the time he'd reached his step, Carl saw Holden's face damp with tears, the boy's teeth grit as he attempted to compose himself.

"I thought you clocked out an hour ago," Carl said. "Where are your parents?"

"I didn't feel like going home yet," Holden mumbled, and he brushed tears off his face with his sleeve. "I told them I was staying longer."

Carl sighed. "Holden, your mom must be worried."

"So? Nothing else I do makes her happy."

"Come on. I'll drive you home. We can talk more on the way."