Cognitive Deviance

18. Witness

April 5, 2045 - 2:35 PM

Carl fetched two sparkling waters from the vending machine, one for him and one for Holden. The two of them sat across from Margo on a bench, all three of them on a quick break.

"I'd still say it went well," Carl said, taking a sip of his drink. "Patients like Miss Proctor do make our jobs difficult, but there's almost always a hope spot of some kind."

"I know she's better than she was when the session started," Margo replied, "but I still hate that I had to lie to make her feel like I understood her."

Holden took a sip from his drink, his gaze unmoving from portrait of Psychwatch's founders hovering above the three of them in a holographic display. On the right was Cyrus Lynch, a brilliant psychologist and sociologist who funded the organization and designed most ThoughtControl technology. On the left was Tetsuo Fujioka, the Japanese-American co-founder who led the organization's deviation from the standard police force and, with the help of his wife, designed the Fatemakers and Blur used by Psychwatch officers to this day. It was heartbreaking to hear of the disappearances of two of the smartest minds of the generation.

"People always just wanna be fucking understood," Holden muttered, still staring at the pictures. "Everyone at school, all they ever complain about, being understood. Like, bitch, I just told you I'm here for you. Why don't you just quit giving me fucking hints and tell me? I work for Psychwatch, for crying out loud. I'm practically licensed to—"

"Keep talking, Margo," Carl said as Holden continued rambling, his speech almost too fast to understand.

Margo was concerned about Holden's sudden excitement but continued anyway. "I wasn't lying about what happened to my dad, but I don't really miss him. You told me he wasn't dead, so doesn't that mean he's missing?"

"Well," Carl replied carefully, "when I got to the scene, all we could conclude was that he ran off. You guys weren't anywhere near the Psycho Slums, so there's no way he could've been abducted. Plus, we were mostly concerned about getting you and your mother to a hospital."

"And that's where I met you."

Carl cracked a small smile before taking another sip of his drink.

"Do you find yourself having to lie often, Carl?" Margo asked.

Before a suddenly nervous Carl could reply back, the two of them looked at Holden, who seemed to be growing angrier the more he spoke. His can of sparkling water was crushed in his hand, and his pillbox was beeping loudly in his pocket.

"—people just act fucking normal for once. I know I'm just a hypocrite for saying that. I'm the dumb piece of shit diagnosed with—"

"Holden," Carl barked. "I think you should take your medication."

"Uncle Carl," Holden choked, refusing to look him in the eye. "I-I-I honestly feel fine. Just needed someone to snap me out of it."

"Buddy, we both know taking those meds is the best thing for you. And you know how mad your mother gets when you skip out on it."

"B-B-But I feel like a stiff when I take them."

"Holden."

Unable to argue, Holden nodded his head before pulling out his pillbox. He placed his finger on the fingerprint ID scan, and the box popped open like a soda can. He took a bright green pill and placed in his mouth before sending it down with a gulp of his drink. He let his head drop, his gaze returning to the floor.

Carl patted his nephew on the shoulder. "It's for the best, buddy," he reassured. He then turned back to Margo. "And to answer your question, Margo, I do my best not to make lying a habit. As much as I like telling people what they want to hear, it's part of the job to tell them what they need to hear."