Cognitive Deviance

80. Derealization

Just another episode, Margo thought as she marched through Philadelphia's desolate, ash-covered streets. Need something to ground myself. Anything. Anybody.

Smoke blanketed the sky, rising from the scorched remains of the city skyline. Glass and stone crackled beneath the icy-blue flames, and the dust beneath Margo's feet felt like a sponge, a slight bounce accompanying each step. Yet despite her hometown departing within flames, she felt cold. Goosebumps rippled across her skin, and her teeth chattered. Hell had frozen over, she thought, and she stood in the middle of it all.

Come on. Someone, anyone! Get me back to Earth. I'm having the worst episode of my life. Please help me.

The streetlights flickered in and out of existence. Building generators sputtered around Margo in the surrounding infrastructure's remains like a dying breath. Few walls remained standing, but Margo saw shadows burnt upon the ones that weren't yet reduced to dust, the risen arms of screaming innocents captured forever. When she walked past the shadows, a prickling warmth replaced the cold.

He didn't win. Not yet. This is all in my head. It has to be!

"What makes you say that?"

The Multi Man's voice. By her right ear, then the left. It spun around her. She tried to chase it but only found the wasteland surrounding her on all sides.

She walked faster.

Rubble crackled beneath her feet. Whispers sounded amongst the rocks and the remnants of the surrounding buildings, bouncing from one location to the next. They tempted her, mocked her, invited her, some even pleaded for her sympathy.

She heard her own voice loud and clear, running alongside her. "This isn't our head."

Ignore that. Stop trying to deceive yourself. Be the only one you know who hasn't lied to you.

"This isn't our head."

Alright, I have lied to myself. Even right now, just by saying that. But not anymore. I am above the psychosis. I know my surroundings, and I know the people I can trust.

"Turn around. Look behind you."

Keep fucking running. Doesn't matter where. Just get away.

The sky grew dark. Shadows stretched across the road before Margo as the fires started shrinking away. The whispering in the rocks increased in volume until Margo felt they were stampeding toward her. She had no Fatemaker to put them back in place.

"Turn around!"

The voice belonged to Margo, but someone else wanted it. The words came out harsh and distorted, almost metallic. Two voices merged in one, she realized. There was some kind of mutant behind her, she decided, yet the pace of her run died down to a mere jog, even as the night engulfed the desolate cityscape around her.

All she saw were lights scattered throughout the city, some near, others distant, making the most of their last moments. The fires. The streetlights. Holographic advertisements and televisions. Standing a few feet from a wrecked storefront, Margo rationalized that a few of the voices and whispers chasing her down belonged to the holographic TV screens behind the broken glass.

The closest screen to her played the news. During the fleeting times that the screen remained tangible, Margo witnessed pure hopelessness in the news anchor's eyes and voice. The images that flashed over him as he spoke nearly destroyed what remained of Margo's hope.

"The worst terrorist attack in...Approximately eight hundred thousand casualties in Philadelphia alone...Repeated attacks in neighboring...Psychwatch's Scans crippled..."