Renewed

Renewed was a place most people were still leery about, even those who arrived at its doors seeking help. James had worked there for the last 12 years of his life and there wasn't a single work day that felt the same as the day before. James had worked with many different kinds of people with many different kinds of problems. He had swept the minds of cheaters, thieves, and even over eaters. His job was to clean up the brains of people who were struggling with urges they claimed they were unable to control.

From the outside, the facility resembled a research institute or a high‑end medical center with glass walls and quiet hallways, but its purpose was far more intimate than anything suggested by its polished exterior. Renewed existed because the human mind often became tangled in ways a person could no longer navigate alone, and when every other method failed, this was where they came. The work was invasive and very personal, and James had spent years learning how to move through the inner landscapes of others without losing himself in the process.

He had walked through minds shaped like abandoned houses, where memories clung to the walls like old photos. He had stepped into brains that resembled narrow corridors with no doors, where the person had locked away whatever emotions they feared. He had even entered thoughts that felt like open fields, deceptively peaceful until the ground changed beneath him. Each session required patience, precision, and a willingness to confront whatever the client had buried without judgment. James had grown accustomed to the unpredictability, and he trusted his training enough to believe he could handle whatever he encountered.

Today’s assignment appeared straightforward. The file he reviewed as he walked toward the intake wing described a man named Ted Hawthorne. He was a thirty eight year old man with a long history of compulsive lying. The notes indicated that Ted had lost jobs and friendships because of his dishonesty, and that he had reached a point where he no longer even trusted himself to speak truthfully.

The application described him as cooperative and calm. He was marked down as a calm and levelheaded man with a charming smile and a nice sense of humor. He had the female nurses in a chokehold with his good looks. They would giggle like idiots any time they got to interact with Ted and it struck James as a bit unusual and annoying but not too alarming. People who came to Renewed were often anxious or ashamed, but calmness wasn’t unheard of and liars were often seen as charming. They tended to have a way with words because they were so precise with them. Calmness also usually meant the client had accepted the need for intervention.

James entered the intake room and found Ted sitting on the edge of the neural cradle with a straight and composed posture, not a hint of a slouch to be found. He wore simple clothing and held his hands together in a way that suggested he was trying to appear relaxed rather than actually feeling it. When he looked up, his expression was polite yet unreadable.

“Mr. Hawthorne?” James said.

“Ted,” he replied. “Please.”

James crossed the room and extended his hand out to Ted. “I’m James. I’ll be guiding your session today.”

Ted shook his hand with a light, delicate grip. “I appreciate you taking the time, Sir.”

“This is what I do,” James said, settling into the chair across from him. “I’ve reviewed your file. You’re here because you want to stop lying.”

Ted nodded slowly. “I want to stop disappointing people. I want to stop feeling like I’m watching myself from the outside, knowing I’m about to lie and not being able to stop it.”

James studied him for a moment. “Can you tell me what lying feels like for you?”

Ted looked down at his hands. “It feels automatic. It's something that happens before I even realize I’ve done it. I don’t plan it. It just... comes out.” He shrugged. "Feels like there's no stopping it."

“That’s common,” James said. “The impulse becomes a reflex. My job is to locate that impulse and adjust it so you can choose honesty instead of defaulting to deception.”

Ted lifted his gaze. “And you’ll be inside my mind?”

“Yes.”

Ted silently stared at him, and the pause stretched long enough that James felt a bit uncomfortable. “If you see something that doesn’t make sense,” Ted said quietly, “leave it alone.”

James frowned. “Don't worry, Ted. I'm just here to help you. I won’t alter anything unrelated to your treatment.”

Ted’s expression tightened. “Just don’t go wandering.” He bit his thumbnail.

James offered a calm, professional smile. “I’ll be in and out. You won’t feel a thing. You understand I'm only here to help, not to judge?”

Ted didn’t return the smile this time.

The technician entered, checked the monitors, and nodded. “We’re ready.”

Ted laid back in the cradle, and the neural crown lowered over his temples. His breathing slowed as the sedation took hold of him. James stepped into the adjoining pod and settled into the interface chair. He placed the emergency recall device in his palm. It was a small button that was smooth and strapped safely around the palm of his hand. Pressing it would pull him out instantly, but he had never needed it. He closed his eyes, and the world around him dissolved.

James eyes fluttered open like lazy butterfly wings as he arrived in a hallway that stretched for what seemed like miles. It was dimly lit and lined with closed doors. The air felt stale like this space had been sealed for years. This wasn't new to James, the mind often constructed familiar structures to organize memories. Still, something about the silence made him shiver a bit.

“Alright, Ted,” James murmured. “Show me where the lying impulse sits.”

Normally, the mind responded. A door would glow, or a path would open. Here, nothing moved. The hallway remained still, seemingly waiting for him to make his first mistake.

James took a step, and the floor creaked beneath him. The sound echoed down the corridor. He approached the nearest door and opened it.

A kitchen appeared before him. It was bright and clean except for the broken vase laying on the floor. A child’s voice cried somewhere out of sight. A young Ted stood over the shattered pieces, his face pale with fear as a woman rushed in.

“What happened?” she asked.

The boy pointed at a whimpering dog in the corner. “He did it!”

James recognized the pattern immediately. A lying impulse formed early in life, reinforced by fear or avoidance. He reached toward the memory, preparing to adjust the emotional response but then the lights flickered and the kitchen darkened.

The boy’s face changed, aging rapidly until it resembled the man in the intake room. His eyes locked onto James with an intensity that didn’t belong in a memory. James stepped back and the scene slowly faded into darkness.

He returned to the hallway, but the doors now stood slightly open, almost as if maybe something had moved through them while he was gone. He approached another door and opened it.

A store aisle appeared in front of him and an older Ted slipped a wallet into his pocket while a clerk turned away. James reached toward the memory and a hand closed tightly around his wrist. He spun around quickly and saw Ted standing behind him. Not the real Ted, the mind’s Ted, and he was way too aware. James has never experienced this before. The consciousness of others was usually just a feeling, not an actual person who could touch him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ted said.

James forced himself to stay calm. “I’m here to help you.”

“I told you not to pry. You have no business being here. This is mine.”

James lifted the recall device, ready to press it if he needed to when Ted’s gaze dropped to James’s hand. James looked down. The device wasn't there, nor was his hand. His wrist ended in nothing, a clean stump that carried no pain but filled him with a cold, rising dread.

Ted tilted his head. “You didn’t listen. I told you not to wander!”

James backed away. “This isn’t possible. You can’t manipulate the interface like this.”

Ted stepped closer. “You're here to search for lies... you aren't allowed to see the truth I keep in here.”

The store disappeared and the hallway returned, but now the walls pulsed faintly, expanding and contracting like it was alive and breathing. James ran as fast as his legs would allow. Doors slammed shut as he passed and the floor rippled violently beneath him. Memories flickered across the walls like old home movies playing from a projector. He could see the faces, memories and the moments of fear Ted had been hiding. These weren't lies, they were Tim's confessions.

James watched in horror as memory Ted wiped blood from his hands and face and buried bodies underneath the desert sand. He watched as he threw blood soaked weapons into the holes he dug for his victims.

Ted’s voice echoed through the corridor. “I guess not even you can fix me, Doc. I thought you understood me.” He let out a low chuckle.

James turned a corner and nearly collided with a memory forming in front of him. He was now in a cold, dimly lit basement. A woman sat tied to a chair with a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Ted stood behind her, stroking her long brown hair lovingly and whispering something James couldn’t hear. James stumbled back and the basement dissolved.

Ted appeared again, closer this time. “You don’t get to leave. You'll tell everyone my secret!”

James pressed his remaining hand against the wall, searching for any exit, any crack in Ted's mind. The world shuddered as a distant alarm sounded. The real world timer, thank God. This was the system preparing to pull him out after the hour inside Ted's head was up.

Ted lunged violently as James dodged and sprinted down a corridor that hadn’t existed a moment earlier. The walls narrowed, squeezing inward as he ran. The floor shook beneath him and memories burst open on either side. They raced through a forest at night, past a parked car with fogged windows and a motel room with drawn curtains. Each scene held the same horrifying memory of someone who never walked out again.

James pushed forward until he reached a wide chamber that resembled a living room. The furniture was falling apart and the windows showed only darkness. The curtains had cigarette burns on them and a lamp laid broken on the floor and a fireplace glowed without heat.

Ted stepped into the doorway. “You’re in my favorite place! This is where I keep the things I don’t want anyone to see.”

James backed away. “You can’t trap me. The system will pull me out.”

Ted smiled. “You think the system understands what’s happening here?”

James turned and ran again, pushing through a doorway that led into a dense forest. The trees rose tall and close with twisting branches overhead. Ted’s voice followed him like his own shadow.

“Ya know what, Doc? Maybe I don’t even wanna be fixed.” He laughed.

James forced himself forward, though the forest seemed to vibrate with every step, making him dizzy. He broke into a clearing where a single door stood. It was a beautiful bright and solid rectangle against the darkness. Finally, a way out. He sprinted toward it as fast as he could before his legs gave out and he toppled over. He wasn't able to catch himself on the stump of a hand he no longer had and he trembled as Ted's boot stepped down next to his face.

“You’re quick!” Ted laughed. “I’ll give you that.”

“Let me go.” James pleaded.

"No." Ted shook his head. “You saw too much.”

James clenched his jaw. “You can’t keep me here.”

Ted’s smile widened. “Why not?”

The forest closed in and the door vanished as the ground cracked beneath the pair of them. Suddenly, an obnoxious and beautiful sound rang out into the silence. It sounded far away, but there was no mistaking that wonderful sound of the timer on the system getting ready to pull him out.

Ted lunged once more as the mindscape tore apart, collapsing into static and darkness. Ted’s face twisted with fury as the pull intensified.

“You can't leave with my secrets!” Ted snarled. "I won't let you!"

James didn’t answer, just watched as the world around them snapped and ripped apart.

James gasped awake in the interface chair, his breath was unsteady and his heart was racing. The technician rushed to his side.

“You’re out,” she said. Her eyes widened when she looked at the state of him. “Are you hurt, James?”

James stared at his hands, grateful to find they were both intact. He swallowed hard. “End the session! Lock his cradle! Do not let him wake up alone!”

The technician hesitated. “Why? His file said...”

“His file was wrong!”

James stood, though his legs felt unsteady. “He didn’t come here to be fixed. The son of a bitch came here because he thought we could delete something for good.”

The technician’s voice wavered. “James... what did you find in there?”

James looked through the glass at Ted, still unconscious in the cradle, his expression calm and harmless.

“Something he’s been hiding for a long time,” James said. “And he knows I saw it.”

The technician reached for the alarm. “Is he dangerous?”

James didn’t look away from Ted. “Yes,” he said. “He's waking up in there.”

Ted’s eyelids began to flutter, and James took a step back, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

Ted opened his eyes. He pointed one long finger at James and smiled.