Cognitive Deviance

66. Erased/Replaced

June 23, 2045 - 1:30 PM

Margo felt Nikki's leery gaze upon her like a tepid ray of sunlight as the door to the room slid shut, and she stood alone in the corridor she'd trekked for nearly three weeks. From the front entrance, through the lobby, to the SafeSpace where Kusanagi awaited her. Only fifteen minutes until she'd get through her daily task before disappearing once more, returning the following week.

Fists clenched by her side, Margo pondered the consequences that awaited her for conversing with such a poisonous individual as Slater. Maybe the unknown was only dangerous, she thought, when in the wrong hands, the wrong hands being that of an apathetic pharmacist-turned-drug-dealer guilty of countless other offenses. Of all people, why turn to him to learn the truth? Someone who built an extralegal career off manipulating people with weaker constitutions. Why trust a man like Malcolm Slater?

My misfortune would amuse him, Margo thought. Anyone's would. That's why he likes telling the truth.

She hurled a powerful, contemplating glare to the floor beneath her as she took several steps to her right, imagining herself burning two holes right through it like Superman.

Wait, she thought, freezing in place. Why do we always think the truth has to hurt in order to be the truth? And that only assholes tell the truth? What if Slater is lying to me, treating me like he probably treats the people who bought his drugs?

"Hello again, Sandoval," greeted Andrade, head slouched, her cheek still purple from the skirmish that ensued following Margo's diagnosis. "What's all this thought about drugs and Slater?"

Get the fuck out of my head before I break your remaining arm, Andrade.

"Whoa, alright," Andrade said, palms opening cautiously. "Just wanted to check in on you after everything."

What, to remind me to use my Fatemaker to solve all my problems? To look out for myself for once like you told me that evening instead of helping me?

Andrade's hands dropped by her sides, and a look of bewilderment crossed her face, one brow ascending higher than the other. "When did I tell you that?" she asked.

Margo grit her teeth, her heart pounding through her chest like fists against a punching bag. Come on, you don't remember the night someone broke into my apartment? I called you, Royce, and Mason and you all left me alone! Just told me bullshit like how a real Psychwatch officer would handle this on their own or how I should stun myself with my own Fatemaker just to get through the evening!

"I heard what happened, but I didn't get any phone call from you, Sandoval. The electricity went out in my apartment that night." She leaned forward. "But one of them actually told you to shoot yourself?"

Margo choked, feeling as if smoke would exude from her mouth and nostrils. Her eyes grew watery, and she threw her hands to her hair, gripping it with enough force to rip it clean off her scalp. You mean, she thought, none of that was real?

"I...really don't know what to say, Sandoval. Did the whole thing feel unreal or what?"

The blizzard? The car ride? All those phone calls? Were they all in my head?

"Well, the blizzard was real, at least. But I really can't say—"

IS IT TRUE WHAT YOU DID TO CARL? WHAT YOU AND MASON DID?

Andrade hunched over, wincing. Her robotic hand shot to the ThoughtControl piece resting in her ear, and she stumbled back as Margo took a step forward.

Yeah, it doesn't feel great always knowing what someone else is thinking, right? I can scream at the top of my lungs without even opening my mouth, and you'll be the only one hearing it.