The Chaos Nexus

Is it, though?

My daily morning alarm sounded, and I rose to face another day. I went down to the kitchen, ready to make myself the usual bowl of cereal. Cereal first, then the milk. Any other way is objectively wrong. Mom greeted me as I opened up the fridge. It was full of ice packs that surrounded the food.

"Is this how you guys have been keeping the food cold?" I laughed.

"What are we supposed to do? The fridge is broken and we won't have a new one until next week," she said.

"I assume Dad's getting the same model and everything. He was happy with it. What else did I destroy?"

"Seems like it's just the fridge, blender, and house alarm system."

As I opened the refrigerator door to store the milk, I felt something pass through me. It felt like my nervous system activated itself, in some weird way I can't really describe. The fridge switched on momentarily before going dead silent again.

"Huh, might not be totally busted after all," I said, trying to ignore the buzz in my nervous system.

I remember being aware of the lingering "sense" that I could "feel" all the devices around me, but I didn't tell anyone about it.

Not yet, anyway. I don't need my parents to think that there's something wrong with me. "Feeling" appliances in the house isn't something a sane person would say.

"I still think we have to buy a new one. A new blender, too. I need my smoothies for my exercises," said Mom.

"And the alarm system."

I sat down at the kitchen table, browsing social media on my cell phone, and chowing down on my cereal.

"Morning, son," said Dad as he appeared in the kitchen, dressed up and ready for work, "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah, no issues here. Didn't even dream. It was just peaceful. And I feel fine, no need to worry. You guys heard what the doctor said. I'm A-Okay."

"Good. Great. I'm really, really happy that you're okay, Owen. I mean it."

He tucked in his shirt and adjusted the cap on his head with the letters reading, "WPD."

Whitecourt Police Department.

"Well, I'm off. Remember, son, keep the physical activity to a minimum. Doctor's orders - and mine. And I don't believe your college studies should be a big concern. You can do that stuff remotely, right?"

I nodded my head.

"Right. Goodbye, Phoebe," he kissed his wife. "Goodbye, Owen," he said as he placed his hand on my head. Then he reached for his car keys and walked into the garage.

* * *

Thinking about my son, Owen, I parked in front of the police station and got out of my car. I saw Richard get out of his car, as well. He's been working with me here for about 7 years. He's one of my closest friends.

"Graham! How's your boy doing?" he asked me.

"Got discharged yesterday. The doctor said everything seemed fine, but his brain activity was strange. We'll be taking him in for brain scans now and then. I'm worried, honestly. I'm worried he may develop epileptic seizures or something of the sort. Then again, I have no idea how the brain works. What I do have an idea of, is how worrisome the brain scans are."

We walked together into the station.

"Anything can happen, Graham. We've both learned this over the years of working here. Whatever happens, I'm rooting for you all. What did the doctor say about the brain scans?"