Cognitive Deviance

41. Breather

May 27, 2045 - 1: 35 PM

Margo awoke with a jolt and a scream.

She looked down at herself, trapped in confusion. She was lying in her bed, her pillow smushed beneath her, and she was also clad in her Psychwatch uniform. Her Fatemaker remained clenched in her hands, and she was relieved to see that no shots were fired as a result of some accidental reflexes. She already had to patch up several holes in her wall from the last incident at her place. And it was bad enough she still couldn't identify a culprit.

She couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep the previous night. She could only remember furthering the decay of her relationship with her sister while awaiting the arrival of some unknown individual sent to kill her. It was always the same: there was always one thing certain individuals were never meant to learn. But if she survived another night, maybe she wasn't entirely screwed just yet.

She placed her gun down on the nightstand and asked her clock to display the time. Her heart nearly stopped when 1:35 PM hovered above her in bright green.

"Damn it!" she hissed. She clawed for her ThoughtControl piece, still swearing at herself. The thought of some unknown enemy coming to take her life vanished with the night.

She dialed for Mason. "Hello? Commissioner? This is Officer Sandoval. I'm sorry about—"

"You've been assigned a week off, " Mason said bluntly. "You and any officer eighteen and under. Please take the time to seek therapy and emotional support. I'll see you next Saturday."

"What did you do to Carl?" Margo growled, but the call ended before she could finish her sentence.

She wanted to rip her mattress to shreds, launch a pillow at the window so hard, the glass would shatter once again. Track down the commissioner, aim her Fatemaker to the woman's head and demand that Carl is set free. Otherwise, she'd sacrifice everything to bring Psychwatch down, as ineffective as that would be. But those irrational thoughts vanished like dust, and she hoped there wouldn't be a day that a SanityScan would detect those kinds of delusions in her.

She stared at the wall and delivered one more message. "Hey Carl, it's Margo. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I hope Mason and the other doctor-cops aren't treating you too badly. And let us know where you'd like to go for dinner tonight! A treat from me and my mom. Love you! Happy Birthday once again!"

She broke the connection, and embarrassment filled her from head to toe. It was rare she told Carl she loved him and even more unlikely that he'd say it back. Even when they were close enough to be family, the words still felt like a risk being taken when uttered. Maybe it's because I still miss my real dad, Margo thought. Somehow. It's normal to miss someone you can't remember, right?

With a frustrated groan, Margo rose from her bed, proceeding to strip off her clothes as she marched over to her bathroom for a shower. She didn't bother picking out any fresh ones just yet. The future wasn't close enough, she thought.

"Good afternoon, sis," chimed a familiar, unbearable voice only slightly deeper than her own. "Reply back if you weren't murdered in your sleep last night."

"You're a bitch," Margo barked into her piece as she removed her last articles of clothing, standing before the shower chamber. "Get off the line. I don't want to talk to you."

"Oh yay! You're not dead! Thank goodness. I wanted to ask you something."

Margo turned the water on. "Ellie, I am not in the mood to talk right now, " she said. "A Red Riot just occurred here yesterday, Carl's being partially blamed for it, and I'm about to take a shower. So if it wasn't obvious, there's a lot on my plate right now. Call me back later."