Psychofauna

Wizard Battle

Previously: In the fifth week of the Great Opening, a collective entity swallowed Jonah. Now Jonah is its voice. It dreams to escape its confusion & understand itself. But are its dreams its own? Meanwhile we meet Deshawn, the Mapmaker.

---

○ Months after the Great Opening, Manhattan

Deshawn stood at the intersection of Frederick Douglas Blvd and 124th St with his cheeks twitching like crazy.

"Let's go back," he said.

His mom looked down at him. She was the one person whose face he couldn't ignore, like one of those cuddlefish that mesmerizes prey. Squinting through the glare of the sun over her shoulders, he watched her nostrils flare between commanding cheekbones. "You said you were tired of 'all that organic stuff' from the farmers market. You said you wanted McDonald's for dinner. Didn't you say that?"

"Yeah..."

"Well you want to eat, you go get it. Here's some money." She pushed a 20 into Deshawn's hand. "I won't subtract it from your allowance."

He began to breath very quickly. There were too many people around them. He tried his best to curl his mind up like a pillbug so that nothing could get in.

"Mickey D's is just a couple blocks away. You'll be OK. Look at me." She stared at him fiercely. "I don't need you to be normal. I know you think that you're different and I celebrate that. Hell, I was a freak-and-a-half at your age. But you need to learn how to be an independent adult soon, baby. You can't just lock yourself in a tin foil prison all day. OK?"

He began to breath even faster.

"Hey." She cupped his twitching cheek. "You don't even have to sit down. Just get take-out. In and out, all right? I'll see you back at the apartment."

Deshawn nodded quickly and crossed the street alone, treading deeper into hell.

—

"Hey, Deesh."

"Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk to yo—"

"You excited about school finally starting again?"

"No."

"Yeah, you don't look like it," Leilani laughed. "Hey, I felt you staring at me. You know you can't hide stuff like that these days, right?"

Deshawn straightened his thick glasses, which had already been perfectly straight. "Wha— No, I was—"

Leilani looked down at the notebook he gripped in one hand. "You putting me in one of your maps? Can I see?"

He pulled the notebook back and glanced around the McDonalds for an out. "I'm––I'm, uh––I'm gonna get a milkshake."

"Oh! Get me one too. Vanilla." She dug into her jeans and pulled out a few crinkled dollars. She put them in Deshawn's hand. "Make it a small please. I gotta stay in shape to make varsity."

Deshawn looked at the dollars in his hand as if they were alien artifacts. But most of his attention was on mindspace, where Leilani was sending him the equivalent of a thank you emoji. (Kids called them psimojis.)

"Um."

Leilani walked back to the booth with her girlfriends. They giggled and looked at him. "Stop!" he heard Leilani whisper-shout. He couldn't hear the rest, but the mental impression he got was that Leilani was defending him.

Because Deshawn was a loser. That's where he belonged on his psychogeographic maps. The loser continent.

He walked up to the counter.