Cognitive Deviance

61. Onset

June 7, 2045 - 2:30 PM

An hour and a half had passed since the bomb dropped on Margo, but to her and Carl, it felt like only five minutes. Margo sat on the same couch in the HQ lobby where she'd discovered Tetsuo Fujioka's hatred of parasites shortly before learning of the potential danger at the Mental Health rally. Carl watched over her from a distance, watching her gaze at the holographic TV screen before her, awaiting another part of her life she thought she could control slip beyond her reach.

Not too long ago, when the diagnosis came to light, her feelings were on full display. The tears, the panic, the desperation to forget the loose thread she'd unraveled from a once-complete picture. But now? There was nothing. A vacant, pale slate where a terrified individual used to be. A machine exhausted, having fulfilled its process but suddenly consuming data dangerously unfamiliar to it.

She didn't blink. Not correctly, anyway. When she tried to, it was always off. Her eyelids twitched and flickered like lights in a rundown building, never shutting all the way. From a distance, one could assume she was sleep-deprived or deeply frustrated. And maybe that was the case, Carl thought. Who'd want to lie down to rest after a revelation like that? So much to ponder. So much to contemplate over and over until everything made sense. Until she forced it to make sense.

Taking a deep breath, Carl made his way over to her. He looked around, studying the windows and the walls and anything that could distract him from darker thoughts. I can't make things worse than I already have, he thought. What Margo learned is only the beginning. And the worse part is this was something even I didn't entirely suspect.

He stood before his young friend, her eyes glued to the screen as if drawn to them with magnets. She paid him no mind, not even waving or smiling or glancing at the light on his ring revealing which alter took center stage. She just gazed into the screen, consuming the lies it sold to her.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat beside her. "You okay, kiddo?"

Her eyes twitched, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"What have you been up to this whole time?"

Margo shrugged again and said, "Just...been here. Watching the TV."

Carl felt his muscles tense at the sound of her voice, though he'd never admit it to her. It was flat, almost robotic, utterly alien compared to the sweet, sensitive sounds he'd remembered most about her. Every word seemed to wound her little by little.

"What about you?" she said. "What have you been doing?"

The question reminded Carl of the burn on his shoulder thanks to Andrade down in the Rabbit Hole. Those Apaths issued to him by the medics worked wonders. Only thing that even made him realize someone injured him in the first place were the bandages gripping around his shoulder beneath his coat. Even with more important matters at hand, he was glad Mason was merciful enough to mend his wounds and numb the pain. After everything she's done to me, he thought. What she's done to all of us.

"Fine then," Margo said.

"Oh no, I'm sorry," Carl replied. "I got lost in thought there, uh...A lot of things have been happening."

The young Psychwatch officer beside him said nothing. She only nodded.

"Mason gave you the rest of the day off. Wouldn't you rather be at home?"

He'd finally gotten a glance from Margo, one he wished he hadn't. "I don't want to be alone right now," she said, and she returned her sights to the TV.

"Oh." Carl cleared his throat. "I totally understand. I'm still really sorry about everything, Margo. If there's anything I can do for you, you let me know, and I'll get it done in an instant."