March 25, 2045 - 7:30 AM

The hallways of Psychwatch were pure white and silver with blue pinstripes trailing across the walls like circuitry. Holographic screens and posters hovered against the walls promoting their services. Every once in a while one could find a SanityScan dangling from the corner of a room. Even in their own headquarters, they couldn't be too cautious.

Margo hadn't met anyone above Threat Level 2, but people of all kinds would take part in Cognitive Crafts. There was a definite chance she could become acquainted with someone of such unpredictable nature.

Cognitive Crafts. The crown jewel of good the Empaths had done for society, Cognitive Crafts was a program dedicated to therapeutic services revolving around various creative activities such as art, music, or drama. Whether psychodynamic, interpersonal, or cognitive-behavioral, it didn't matter what age a person was or what condition they were diagnosed with.

Margo strolled down the hallway along with a fourteen-year-old girl and her mother toward an available room for the three of them. As part of Cognitive Crafts, the patients could rent a private SafeSpace for the therapy session to take place. Each room had electrochromic windows offering the patients views of the hallway that could easily switch from clear to opaque with the flip of a switch to ensure their privacy.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the girl's mother asked. "I'm afraid we've forgotten to introduce ourselves."

"No worries," Margo replied, keeping her sights on the hallway in front of her. She took a quick glimpse toward a SanityScan and accessed it with her ThoughtControl to learn more about her patients.

The woman's name was Madeline Cruz and her fourteen-year-old daughter was named Iris. Both of them were already registered into the P3S. While Madeline remained undiagnosed, Iris was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder according to the DSM-6's criteria. Margo could tell through Iris's mannerisms; she hadn't spoken a word since she and her mom arrived, and she seemed to be having a hard time controlling her breathing.

Luckily, one cool feature of the SanityScans was the ability to transfer positive thoughts into the minds of the people in its scan radius. All it took was the order of a single Psychwatch officer, and a positive message would enter a person's mind to aid them in their emotional or psychological troubles.

There is nothing to be scared of, Iris, said a soothing voice as it entered Iris's distressed thoughts. Miss Sandoval is here to help. She is your friend.

The three of them paused in front of an empty room. With another command from her ThoughtControl, Margo unlocked the door and entered. The lights in the room flashed to life, and the three of them were greeted by simple gray furniture. The door slid shut behind them, startling Iris for a moment as her mom proceeded to calm her down.

"So, Iris," Margo said, taking a seat at a table, "what are your favorite hobbies? What do you like to do when you're feeling stressed?"

Iris didn't speak. She kept her view on the floor beneath her. Her mother brushed her hand through her daughter's hair. "She loves art," Madeline replied. "Painting, sketching, all that. She's really good at it, too."

"Oh, is that so? Then, honey, you're really gonna love this."

Once again using her ThoughtControl piece, Margo activated a small screen on the table in front of her. "What are you in the mood for, Iris?" Margo asked in a peppy tone. "Painting or sketching?"

"Uh..sketching?" Iris croaked sheepishly.

"Sketchpad, coming up." Following a few taps of the buttons on the screen, a slot in the table opened up, and out emerged a blank sketchpad and some pencils. The holographic screen had vaporized in front of them.

"I didn't know your tables could do that," Madeline said in astonishment as the slot closed back up.

"First time here at Cognitive Crafts?" Margo chuckled. She pulled out a spare ThoughtControl piece smaller than the one given to her by Psychwatch. She held it between her fingertips and tilted her head down so she and Iris saw eye to eye. "Iris sweetie, do you know what this is?"

Iris quietly shook her head. Margo handed the piece to Madeline. "This right here, ladies, is a Psych Expressor sketchpad. For people who love art but admit they aren't the best at it, this sketchpad can connect to any ThoughtControl piece and recreate whatever image you picture in your mind directly onto the pages. Ever have trouble describing something to your friends? Well now you can show them exactly how you pictured something in your head with this!"

Madeline's eyes widened. "That's amazing!"

"Comes in handy, right? In fact, an old friend and colleague of mine was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder when he was younger. Since art isn't really his strength, he used the Psych Expressor to paint physical representations of his other two personalities!"

Iris's eyes widened with intrigue.

Margo extended her arm out toward Iris, holding the spare piece in front of her. "Would you like to try it out, sweetie?"

The timid young girl hesitantly took the piece from Margo and adjusted it against her ear. Margo watched as her patient pulled the sketchpad closer to her and concentrated on bringing her imagination to life on the paper, even though the sketchpad had more in common with a touchscreen than actual paper in regards to its material.

A tiny black dot appeared at the edge of the sheet and quickly traced across the front like an Etch-A-Sketch, leaving behind a thin line. The dot continued racing across the sheet until the scribble left behind vaguely resembled a person leaned against a wall holding something in their hand. The next stages of creation were about to begin.

The lines suddenly bolded in shade, as if a black paintbrush had quickly traced over them at light-speed. Margo noticed the person in the picture raised her hand out in front of her, holding a flower. She was a little embarrassed it took her this long to realize the drawing was of Iris herself once the lines filled with color and her copper hair and light blue hoodie came to life. Once the painting was complete, Iris quickly added her signature to the corner of the sheet before removing the ThoughtControl piece.

"Beautiful," Margo laughed. "You've definitely got the makings of an artist in you." She did a quick scan of Iris with her own ThoughtControl piece. "And your stress levels are practically nonexistent now!"

Iris couldn't help but crack a smile.

"We still have about thirty-five minutes left," Margo continued. "Would you like to make another one?"

"Do you..." Iris spoke in a shaky voice, "do you have any other art supplies?"

Margo smiled. "Of course, sweetie," she replied cheerfully. "Nothing beats pencil and paper, right?"

Iris nodded, still cracking a smile.

The patient has become comfortable with this new situation, Margo thought to herself, which was recorded by her own ThoughtControl piece for notes. So have I.

Once Iris and her mother had completed their session, the rest of Margo's morning was a breeze. She had a new session every forty minutes, marking the fifth one once the clock read 10:50. She was able to demonstrate Cognitive Crafts' art supplies once more, but her third and fourth sessions allowed her to test out the equipment for music therapy.

Aside from actual instruments, none of which she was allowed to play, Psychwatch had developed a program known as MoodMatcher to provide the listener a song that matched their attitude, usually counteracting against whatever negative emotion they were feeling by playing music that was either uplifting or brighter in tone. The technology wasn't exclusive to their therapy sessions. In fact, MoodMatcher was one of the most popular devices at the time since it could also be used to set the tone when reading a passage out of a novel or filming a movie scene.

Unfortunately, Margo's final patient that morning was proof that not everyone was grateful of Psychwatch's services. No matter what Margo or his parents did, he blew off everything as if it were mindless gibberish. "Next time I take part in a therapy session," he growled, "it'll be with a shrink who has opinions of their own."

And he stormed out the door, his frustrated mother trailing behind him.

Session concluded, Margo thought, staring out the door with a concerned look. Just the first of many.