Empathy Ch. 2

Journal Entry XX (Expectations)

It was a strange feeling, the moment that we finally broke ground on the project that would change the world. We were all excited and filled to the brim with different expectations. It had taken years to get the funding and even more time to get the council to sign off on testing. Obviously, not all of it was above board, but we had started anyway with the little original funding that we had. This came back to haunt us later on as the Hall Council used it as leverage to buy us out. But back then we didn't think about anything other than the next revolutionary advance in medicine. The concepts were easy enough- Fix the brain, save humanity. There was so much intricate detail that went into it, with concepts from many different fields of the sciences perfected in order to succeed. The irony that I am one of the few people it didn't work on doesn't escape me. I laugh a deep, painful laugh when I think about it. I am certain I deserve to wake up in cold sweats. I mean this was my concept, my baby. My magnum opus. I was the head of operations, but in all honesty, it took a really, really good team to pull it off. God, I miss those days. The people, the exploration. I miss Janice more than anything. She was my best friend and the smartest person I had ever known, if not a little crazy. Good crazy. Revolutionary crazy. Very hardheaded with a hidden temper aimed at herself. I resonated with that. She was definitely the kind of weirdo you can't help but to cherish deeply, even when she would disappear for extended amounts of time without a word. I remember one time, early on in our ventures, she disappeared for an entire year after having a life crisis of sorts, stating she needed to see the world if she was going to fix it. She came back with a fire in her eye that led to some of our most important discoveries. And some that we would feud about till our time together ended. She had a method to her madness though, that's for sure. If only we could have kept control of Heartlocket, she would still be here and not with those heartless bastards, forced to manufacture a worse kind of madness. I was the one that let her leave, told her to further her career even if it wasn't a direction I agreed with. Another life lost by my hands. I doubt she has any autonomy over herself anymore at this point. Just another droid, a pawn in their game. I know I sound so despondent, but I wasn't always that way. I mean, it's easy to get optimistic and self-involved on a new project when you have a laser-sharp clarity with what you want to achieve. Did we think we could change the world? Absolutely. And dammit, we sure did. We were saving people one by one and should have kept it that way. But many successful projects start out small and give themselves over in order to grow. That uncontrolled growth inevitably becomes a cancer. "Successful" leaves a bitter taste in my mouth these days. Fuck the Council and fuck Heartlocket.

I'm quite bitter, clearly, that our creation was considered such a resounding success. To this day, people still believe it's working. Maybe just another additive to the procedure. Everything seems really screwed up, honestly, despite the Hall Councils best efforts to conceal the blemishes on their utopia. The biggest screens sell the biggest lies, and their cityscapes always light up the night sky. Outside the major city centers that feast heartily, it feels like the world is a feeble dog surviving off of murky waters and diseased corpses. The Hall Council and their capitals feel like the grand stage, while we stand in the audience crushing each other against the fence trying to get as close as possible, knowing all the while that the stage is unattainable. I can't even walk through the streets without this sulking feeling ripping my heart out. The people are not happy. Not healthy. Barely coherent. To top it off, Dreaded have started patrolling for Empaths with putrid disgust, and there is talk that a man named Reaper is coming around soon. He is different than the rest, a vortex of emotion rather than muted despair. There is a presence to him that drains us empaths like cement being poured into our veins, slowly hardening. At least that is what I have been told. His slate black armor with a deep maroon light emanating from every crevice feels dangerous. The standard night stick with that blue hue is replaced by a sickle dipped in stale violet light. No one knows his true station, but he always seems to be involved in everything, everywhere. I will have to get out of here before he arrives, but I still have a few people to see and supplies to grab.

I am hurting extra today. Maybe it's the memories freshly stirring inside me, maybe its anticipation for what's to come. It's probably the hatred I have built up for myself over the years. Yes, I'm aware that many have suffered worse than I have. Hell, many have suffered worse because of me. Still, I can barely keep it together these days. Times are tough. The world is bitter and hurt, it always is. "This is for them, the hurt and the broken," I told myself, subconsciously hyper-aware that I was playing God for my own selfish purposes. Why else would I have withheld such crucial data when PB took over? I don't kid myself anymore. It was my pain. My pride. Not theirs, at least not entirely. I was indulgent, but I had to be. Everything was a competition in this world, and I could be the best. Always. But I see the capability of everyone else and I wanted to bring out the best for them too. My nature was always mystery and love. I love everyone as much as I love myself. I'm a bad person, I guess. I don't want to be. After all, why shouldn't I have been the one to fix the world? I broke it worse, instead. I take responsibility for that, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to right those wrongs. I have no choice but to advance a revolution against my own revolution. The Sir, my only father figure, would have been just as proud as disappointed if he saw me these days. He was forced to engrain that grotesque competition in me, but I saw the kind sadness in his eyes every day. Hiding his warmth as cold eyes watched us from above. He didn't believe in the world he was forced to create for such a young child. I learned that on the day he died. I've been meaning to visit him. His death was my fault after all. I shouldn't have left that cold winter day, I knew better. I also knew that if I could move on from this pain, I would be better. This was always my prerogative. The reason I concocted this poison. His death will always be the thing I need to forget. I still can't.

______

I awoke far too early in the morning, heart pounding and head aching from the dreams swirling through me. It was cold and damp outside and the pitter patter of the rain on the roof was slightly calming. A reminder of the present. Yet I still couldn't shake what had happened when that man died on that train just a day ago. Visions of his experiences kept pricking at my brain. Sharp pains kept streaking through my body like sinews of barbed wire in my flesh. It was cold. My ears were hot though. Hot and hearing whispers from no one I'd ever known yet felt so familiar with. My head was spinning on and off in a horrible vertigo. Shit, here I go again. My stomach grew hot and contorted and I belched out what felt like the last of my remaining bile. I couldn't keep anything down and as of last night I had been puking every hour on the hour.

"Man, I ought to kill Hector for this." I whispered to the heavens.

The thought itself broke me into a real, guttural laugh for a quick moment. I laughed even harder thinking about how crazy I must have looked, sweating and rocking against the cold ground and breaking into a short, manic laughter. They'd put me in a madhouse if those were still a thing. A ringing in my head that I hadn't even noticed was slowly creeping in and getting sharper. I began to shake violently while wrapped in my own arms. Twisted memories and greyed out portraits of his past consumed me once again- Kids, his kids, falling off their bikes in the hot summer sun. Had he lived a real life before he was dreaded? A woman in a hospital gown reached up from her bed to caress his face with a feeble hand.. but it was my face, and my tears as I said I love you one last time to my beloved Leah. The pain that had lain dormant in this man's soul was becoming mine now. I had never felt anything like this. I was scared and heartbroken. It's a surreal feeling, floating above yourself, sobbing in parallel moments of first and third person that are all mangled into one memory. Becoming disoriented, I reached for anything around me to feel real again.

I let out a moaning cry that landed somewhere between "I miss you" and "kill me," not knowing which words were mine. I had become too weak to pull myself up on the chest near my bed and slid back down, face first on the floor in a pool of chunks and fluids with my hands still grasping upwards on the box of trinkets I'd acquired over the years. At least now I look as imprisoned as I felt.

The ringing had finally overpowered me, and I laid there, ripping at my ears for it to stop. I opened my eyes, and I was signing papers, shaking hands and saluting officers. I recognized one of them but couldn't quite put my finger on it. Something like a father figure. Their words like warbles under water and faces clouded over and indistinct. The ringing was lower but heavier. I felt proud, desperate and lonely. I stepped onto a ship as my vision blurred back. I begged for release as my world went dark and there were no more thoughts of my own. I screamed out, collapsing to the floor and losing consciousness. Then all at once it was gone. I awoke with no visions. No pain. No ringing. I was exhausted.

I stepped out into the rain, barefoot, reclaiming my own mind. It felt right as my feet squished and buried themselves in the muddy landscape, one toe curl at a time. My deep breaths felt crisp and refreshing in the cold air. It was comforting, seeing my waves of visible breath. This is home. I raised my face up as high as I could, allowing the tears of the heavens to kiss my skin. It wasn't dawn yet, but the world had already started to show its colors. The world above head was still a shaded, gloomy grey but off on the horizon it was a magnificent vibrant orange with an ombré of pale pink and purple. There were streaks of clouds that looked like blue-grey wool against the sky. For being a mostly barren land, it felt so full of energy and life. The rain grew a little louder for a moment as footprints and little holes filled up like little reservoirs. Looking down at the small vegetation reaching towards the sky I could see little reptilian critters sipping from those puddles and darting from cover to cover. How silly and simple it all felt. As the rain started to clear, a rainbow revealed itself, taking up much of the sky. Magic rainbows and lizards? I couldn't help but laugh and cry as I relived my own childhood memory. One of the last I had in that house, before I lost the Sir. Anyone taking notice would have thought me entirely insane, but I didn't care. This morning was beautiful, and I deserved it, even if just for a moment.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" came startling words nearby.

You've no idea. "Shhh, Hector, it's too early for words." I didn't bother looking over at my friend, but I did take a deep breath in and enjoy that refreshment that was just mentioned.

"I heard you scream last night, same dream?" I had really hoped that no one heard my spiritual bombardment last night, but at least I could chalk it up to something else- my recurring nightmare about the Sir. I wasn't ready to talk about the visions. I didn't really know how to articulate it yet anyway.

After a brief moment of pondering and staring at a sun stretching its arms up over the mountains I finally answered, but not before giving him a nice side eye for still talking. "Same damn dream, every time. Sometimes it hurts a little worse than others. Probably the built-up cortisol from the train fight last night" I antagonized with just a tinge of inauthenticity, which Hector picked up on.

He gave me some half-version of a grunt and an "mhmm" while he looked me up and down as if not quite believing me but having no choice. "Well, either way, I'll let you get back to your stoic skygazing. When you are finished, we probably need to talk about the kid n' all that shit." He waived me off as he walked away to his own business.

Hector stopped and turned for a moment, seeming deeply concerned. "Oh, and Abby" he paused for a moment as if about to say the most inspirational one liner you could think of. "You should probably clean yourself up, you're lookin' real rough and smell like an ass."

Truly inspirational. "At least I'll never wonder if I have lunch stuck in my teeth, thanks dick."

I sat and evaluated my life for a moment as he walked off. How tight-knit and humorless I had been for such a long time. Always focusing on the task at hand and business-oriented like if cracking a joke would crumble the walls of my professional life. Well, when the world did crumble around me, Hector and his banter really turned over a new leaf, lighting the mood in the most dire of times. It's something I will always appreciate him for, even if he is a blunt asshole sometimes.

My thoughts turned elsewhere.

The shock and hope from finding such a powerful empath in Poe were still strong, but the disorienting hold had finally worn off like a poorly brewed love potion. What is really going on with that kid? There had been a decent number of guards yesterday, but being as strong as he is, there should have been more. Poe was headed to one of the more distinguished outposts but still, it didn't quite match up. Unless they wanted to keep it low-key to not arouse suspicions? That would make sense, considering it was an older storage train that carried him with no visual sign of the Hall Council. Or maybe they needed to move him as quickly as possible and that was the first option. There was zero doubt that they underestimated his importance though. And that little locket clearly came from one of their facilities in one way or another. It was time to find out from the source, but not before finding Hector. Maybe just one more minute in this moment. A breath and a sigh later, I made my way over to the grub tent, but not before showering off my crusted body and soiled thoughts.

I figured correctly that Hector would be at the grub tent. He spent a majority of his off time eating and shooting the shit, which made this the ideal destination. He always has a way of making people talk comfortably anywhere he goes. It was extra lively this morning, an excitement undoubtably attributed to the rescue of Poe. People were laughing and chatting and playing make-shift games on old, tattered tables made of different woods and metals. A large gathering of tables was pushed together something like the last supper with Poe in the middle, hunched over with an arm on his leg like a hero reciting stories of glory. Miko, a large man with an even larger gun on his back was laughing and slapping Poe's back as if he was the artillery support for the kid's stories. He always had a strange hue to his aura, a fusion of greens with streaks of a saturated red. I always took it for jealousy or envy, which was rarely a dominating characteristic of an aura.

Hector was there too, a little quieter in the crowd, chowing down on what was probably his 3rd or 4th helping of breakfast sludge. He looked up and rolled his eyes at me, gesturing at Miko and his boisterous existence.

"There she is, our fearless leader." Miko designated with an open hand signaled over to me before reeling back into a few slow claps. I could never tell if he hated my guts or envied me or was scared of me. Probably some concoction of that and more, who knows? "We were just talking about how you saved us all, isn't that right?" he looked out to the crowd for support.

"Sounded more like you were talking about yourself, Miko." Hector said without looking up from his grub.

"Well, looks like someone is in a pissy mood this morning." At this point, Miko had turned his full attention toward Hector, acting calm but clearly taunted if you knew him at all.

"Well," Hector said in a mocking voice "some of us have jobs to do, and have a reason to be pissy." Everyone could feel the tension rising and for good reason. Miko had dubbed himself "security" for the encampment. An obvious tactic to not have to go out and do real work, save real people. A glorified hall monitor. Tasks, jobs and helping hands were ways to get more tickets, the currency for most things, doled out. Miko essentially was doing the minimal work to rack up the most tickets, while also boasting the most- a combination that didn't sit right with Hector or many of the other denizens of our community. Miko essentially bullied his way into extra funding.

Full of petulance, Miko sat beside Hector, facing outward from the table but cocking his head to invade Hector's personal space. "If you've got something to gripe about, lets fuckin' gripe" he slithered from his tongue into Hector's ear, inaudible to the rest. "How bout we stop lettin' this fatass eat all our food and waste our resources?!" He escalated to the rest of the table-goers as he knocked the spoon from Hectors hand in a dramatic display of dominance, not caring whatsoever who was hit with the contents of said spoon. Showing an incredible amount of restraint, Hector closed his eyes to let out a deep and soothing sigh while releasing his tense body. As he opened his eyes though, I saw a damning clarity in them. Just walk away Hec.

"And another thi-" Miko started to mouth off before feeling the rough, weathered fist of Hector cock him straight in the jaw mid-sentence. A streak of blood followed after the dislodged tooth as Miko fell flat to the ground, cold on contact. Hector spat on the toppled pile of limbs before rising in silence, apologizing to the deeply shocked crowd and walking out the food den towards the dusty landscape, leaving his silhouette showered in the bright shine of the sun before disappearing. No one believed what they had just witnessed out of the usually placid man now fading from view. The room fell more silent than the natural world usually allows.

Jesus Hector.