June 23, 2045 - 1:30 PM

Margo felt Nikki's leery gaze upon her like a tepid ray of sunlight as the door to the room slid shut, and she stood alone in the corridor she'd trekked for nearly three weeks. From the front entrance, through the lobby, to the SafeSpace where Kusanagi awaited her. Only fifteen minutes until she'd get through her daily task before disappearing once more, returning the following week.

Fists clenched by her side, Margo pondered the consequences that awaited her for conversing with such a poisonous individual as Slater. Maybe the unknown was only dangerous, she thought, when in the wrong hands, the wrong hands being that of an apathetic pharmacist-turned-drug-dealer guilty of countless other offenses. Of all people, why turn to him to learn the truth? Someone who built an extralegal career off manipulating people with weaker constitutions. Why trust a man like Malcolm Slater?

My misfortune would amuse him, Margo thought. Anyone's would. That's why he likes telling the truth.

She hurled a powerful, contemplating glare to the floor beneath her as she took several steps to her right, imagining herself burning two holes right through it like Superman.

Wait, she thought, freezing in place. Why do we always think the truth has to hurt in order to be the truth? And that only assholes tell the truth? What if Slater is lying to me, treating me like he probably treats the people who bought his drugs?

"Hello again, Sandoval," greeted Andrade, head slouched, her cheek still purple from the skirmish that ensued following Margo's diagnosis. "What's all this thought about drugs and Slater?"

Get the fuck out of my head before I break your remaining arm, Andrade.

"Whoa, alright," Andrade said, palms opening cautiously. "Just wanted to check in on you after everything."

What, to remind me to use my Fatemaker to solve all my problems? To look out for myself for once like you told me that evening instead of helping me?

Andrade's hands dropped by her sides, and a look of bewilderment crossed her face, one brow ascending higher than the other. "When did I tell you that?" she asked.

Margo grit her teeth, her heart pounding through her chest like fists against a punching bag. Come on, you don't remember the night someone broke into my apartment? I called you, Royce, and Mason and you all left me alone! Just told me bullshit like how a real Psychwatch officer would handle this on their own or how I should stun myself with my own Fatemaker just to get through the evening!

"I heard what happened, but I didn't get any phone call from you, Sandoval. The electricity went out in my apartment that night." She leaned forward. "But one of them actually told you to shoot yourself?"

Margo choked, feeling as if smoke would exude from her mouth and nostrils. Her eyes grew watery, and she threw her hands to her hair, gripping it with enough force to rip it clean off her scalp. You mean, she thought, none of that was real?

"I...really don't know what to say, Sandoval. Did the whole thing feel unreal or what?"

The blizzard? The car ride? All those phone calls? Were they all in my head?

"Well, the blizzard was real, at least. But I really can't say—"

IS IT TRUE WHAT YOU DID TO CARL? WHAT YOU AND MASON DID?

Andrade hunched over, wincing. Her robotic hand shot to the ThoughtControl piece resting in her ear, and she stumbled back as Margo took a step forward.

Yeah, it doesn't feel great always knowing what someone else is thinking, right? I can scream at the top of my lungs without even opening my mouth, and you'll be the only one hearing it.

Margo's once-fearsome colleague squinted her eyes as she attempted to regain her composure, clawing her cybernetic fingers into her hair.

Whatever you did to him caused new alters to come into existence! So what the fuck did you do to him?

"Sandoval!" shouted Margo's once-fearsome colleague, and the eyes of the few patients and employees wandering the halls fell on both of them.

Yeah, this is what it feels like, Margo thought again. Everyone only ever acknowledging you when you've screwed something up. Judging you in their minds. Wondering how the hell you could ever make it in a place like this, in a world like this.

I was just doing my job, Sandoval, rang Andrade's voice through her head, one oozing with defeat. Ever since my recovery, I've had to pledge my loyalty to Psychwatch to keep becoming a better version of myself.

What the fuck makes you think you're a better person than how you used to be?

Silence. Nothing out of their mouths, nothing rattling about in their brains.

Seriously, Margo continued, how did you convince yourself that this petty, one-armed, homicidal version of yourself is somehow an improvement?

Because this version is the one that's been sober since I was your age.

Silence again. Margo had other, colder thoughts at the ready, like an ammunition belt, but she kept them down. Tried to, anyway. She didn't know how deep the connection of a ThoughtControl could go.

"I was just doing my job, Sandoval," Andrade repeated, patience in her voice.

If you were a better person, Margo thought, you would've told Mason to stop. You would've realized the pain you were causing.

"Mason knows what she's doing. And anything anyone does can hurt someone else. Half the time, it's out of our control."

It's out of your control, because Mason has all of it. What did she call you down in the Rabbit Hole? Oh right, a junkie. So much for all of those years of recovery.

Andrade curled her hands into fists, yet Margo saw no anger in her eyes. There was a stillness, apprehension, as if the one thing in the world that ensured her complete annihilation dangled before her on a rope. Any sudden moves, the rope would tear. And thus would conclude the miserable life of a slave to Psychwatch.

Anything else you'd like to add?

No, Andrade replied.

Then I guess I'll finally say something. "Goodbye, Andrade."

And Margo walked around her.

The eyes of the onlookers went away, directing their focus toward far less interesting sights. Or at least that's what Margo believed. She'd burned herself into their memories as Psychwatch's newest loose cannon, one of many in the arsenal. Maybe being remembered mattered more than being liked, she thought.

A clock hovered on the wall between two SafeSpaces. 1:37, it read. Almost time to see Kusanagi again. Time for more reminding that only she could fix herself and no one else. Not Psychwatch. Not her mother. No magical pills in magical boxes. The only one who could save Margo Sandoval was Margo Sandoval.

The same applied to absolute self-destruction. Only one person could do it. Although, the journey didn't need to be ventured alone.

Royce would keep her company.

"Hey, Royce," she said, finding him perched in the same seat as their last encounter.

"Sandoval," he nodded. "You here for another session with Kusanagi?"

"At first."

"Oh? Did he cancel?"

"Kind of." Margo cleared her throat. "I think I might've found my...ideal solution to my problems."

Royce raised his brow. "That's a bit concerning."

"Don't worry, it's not drugs or hooking up with strangers or anything. Although, I know not too many people will approve of it."

"And you thought it was a good idea letting me, of all people, in on this?"

"What, you've never kept a secret before?"

"A handful or two. But is this 'solution' really that questionable?"

Margo leaned forward and whispered, "Is it true Psychwatch hasn't gotten rid of their Erase-and-Replace equipment?"

With a sigh and a quick flutter of his eyes, Royce said, "Of course. It's not exactly something they'd be comfortable throwing away, even if the black market always finds a way to get their hands on it somehow. How did you even learn about this?"

"Like you said, Psychwatch doesn't like throwing away its own creations. Why do you think they still keep Jack around?"

Royce chuckled.

"It makes sense if you think about it," Margo said, hands raised.

"Oh, it definitely does." Royce sighed a tentative sigh and rose from his seat. "So what do you need E-and-R for, anyway?"

"I...I'll tell you on the way."

* * *

Climbing down stairs. Descending elevators. Evading other doctor-cops and patients. All part of a ten-minute journey deeper into Psychwatch's headquarters. Light grew more infrequent with each bend in the hall, each stairwell traversed. Instead of sunlight, Margo and Royce grew warm under the cool silver glow of the fluorescent lights trailing across the ceiling above her.

In reality, those lights did nothing to bring them comfort. The warmth of her skin, the hasty thuds of her own heartbeat, the acidic tinge of dread boiling in her stomach, her mind did all of that. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what would become known, what it could do to such a fragile mind.

There was something locked away inside, Margo thought, something kept from her for too long, taken from her without warning. Her childhood. Her high school years. The previous day. So young, yet her mind was so clouded. Everything distant but not entirely out of sight.

"You still haven't told me what this is all about," Royce said, the clapping of their footsteps resounding like rainfall. "You trying to forget or remember something?"

"Royce," Margo said, "is it normal for someone like me to forget most of their childhood?"

"Were you abused?"

Margo concluded the conversation died then and there, maybe for the best.

"Sorry about the bluntness," Royce said. "I've been here a while, so it's the first thing we have to ask. Shows you how messed up this world is. But I'm sorry if that guess was a little too wild."

"Well...I mean, I don't remember my childhood too well, so I don't really know."

"How far back can you remember?"

"Honestly, not much before this car accident me and my family got in when I was fifteen. My dad disappeared after that day, but it was also how I ended up meeting Carl and joining the P3S."

"Do you remember your dad?"

"I only remember that his name was Ted Sandoval. I don't even remember what he looks like, other than my mom says I kinda look like a girl version of him. Not sure if that's supposed to be a good thing or not, though."

"Did you only recently discover your memory isn't what you hoped it was?"

"Yeah, right after my diagnosis. I've been trying to think back on all the times I thought I was talking to a sister, but it's been hard."

After a pause, Royce said, "Well, let's just hope this is for the best."

"If you don't mind me asking, Royce, why are you helping me out?"

"Let's just say I'm not entirely against the idea of having one's memory wiped, even after watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

Margo snapped her fingers. "Oh, that's the movie Slater was referring to."

Royce froze. "Slater?"

Shit, Margo thought.

Her colleague turned back around to look at her, light glinting off the lenses of his glasses. "Did Slater tell you to use E-and-R?"

"No! I ran into Nikki when she was working earlier, and she just happened to be talking to Slater."

"I'm sorry, Sandoval, but maybe this isn't a good idea after all. Especially if Slater has anything to do with this."

Margo gasped. "What, you don't think I can handle the truth?"

"Don't take it personally, Sandoval. Not many people these days can do such a thing. But you can't just keep learning all this life-changing information all at once. You need to know how much you can handle first before you take it all in. Believe me."

"Believe you? I don't even know anything about you. And considering how long you've been gone, you'd be lying if you said you knew anything about me."

"You're right, I don't," Royce shrugged. "But maybe it's for the best we don't know too much about each other. And maybe it's also for the best you don't know everything about yourself."

"You think I would've been better off not knowing I have schizophrenia? Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"I'm trying to tell you to take it slowly. Trust me, there is such a thing as asking too much and delving too deep and—"

Margo stepped forward, approaching Royce so closely, he could feel the air flaring out of her nostrils. There was desperation in her eyes, and frustration spread like rust. She was in the dark for far too long and finally wanted the light. A minuscule ray was all she was ready to handle, but she wanted the whole sun.

"When did you ask too much, Royce?" she growled. "When did you delve too deep?"

"I really can't say," Royce said. "I would if I could, honest to God. But I'm not ready. I won't say until I'm ready." He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm just trying to warn you to get comfortable with your current self before you learn something else that will bring about drastic change."

"I'm ready," Margo replied in a harsh whisper. "I'll have to be. It won't be my choice. Just take me to the storage room. I'll take it from there."

Royce took his phone from his pocket and held it between the two of them, illuminating a pitch-black door before them. "We've been here a while," he said. "But I really enjoyed our conversation."

"Good for you. Now, let me in."

Royce held his phone horizontally. His fingers tapped against buttons, slid across the touchscreen, and all other techniques Margo wasn't tech-savvy enough to comprehend. All she cared about were the three beeps as the door cranked open like the first page of a life-changing novel.

"Wrong input, and the whole place would've gone dark in a blink," Royce chuckled, but he cleared his throat upon realizing Margo wasn't amused. "You ever heard of the science fiction writer Philip K. Dick, Sandoval?"

"Probably not," Margo muttered, her mind dipped in sludge.

"Brilliant writer. Practically predicted the future. He loved writing about reality, human nature, and all the complexities that came with them. Although, there's one quote of his that really stuck out to me. 'Reality is that which, when you stop believing it, doesn't go away.'"

"Cool," Margo said, stepping into the storage.

"Another quote of his that's always stuck with me is, 'For each person, there is a sentence, a series of words, that has the power to destroy them.' If that's the case, we know we can destroy Andrade by calling her a junkie."

"Royce, what are you even talking about?"

"Just reminding you once again to know your limits. Some things can't be unheard or unseen, no matter how hard you try."

"Well, if I don't like it, then I definitely will try. I already forgot most of my life, anyway. Can't be that hard to do it again." She looked around. "Now, which one is the Erase-and-Replace?"

Royce stepped inside, positioning himself beside her. "The one that looks like a motorcycle helmet. Kind of like the ones for the PACER program."

The lights from the storage remained on the move, transitioning from a ghostly gray to blood red. Margo scanned the room, studying the displays of Psychwatch technology before her. Fatemakers, both pistol-sized and Assault, hung on the walls or rested on shelves, the pistol ones including the older models they took down into the Rabbit Hole. There were also Fatemaker shotguns, orbs the size of grapefruits Margo presumed were explosives, and other devices she'd never even heard of. The E-and-R was the most obscured item in the room, positioned far in the left-hand corner behind a plastic screen. And if one didn't work, she had four other helmets to use instead.

"There they are," Royce said.

Margo jogged over to the devices. Behind the screen, whenever the room wasn't bathed in a crimson shroud, Margo saw the helmet was pure white with six black cylinders protruding from the top like spikes. A translucent visor guarded the eyes of its wearer, and the Psychwatch logo emblazoned the side of the helmet in bright orange.

Margo wedged her fingers into the crevice on the far end of the screen, forcing it open with a discomforting squeak.

"Strange," Royce said. "You'd think they have it rigged with alarms or something."

Margo ignored him, her mind adrift as she took the helmet out. "Is it really as easy as he said it would be?" she asked.

"Who?" Royce asked back.

"Slater. He said anyone could use this."

"Of course, it's easy. The easiest choices are usually the wrong ones. At least in my experience."

"I think I found the right buttons," Margo said, ignoring her colleague, her fingers brushing around three individual buttons on the helmet's right hemisphere. One was red, another green, and the final one blue.

"Listen to me, Margo. You don't always have to learn things the hard way."

Margo glanced away from the helmet, offering her colleague an icy gaze. "You sound just like Carl," she said.

"Then how do you think he'd feel about this?"

"He'd tell me he understands what I'm going through. But he doesn't. Nobody does."

"Oh, come on, you really think nobody understands?"

"I know nobody does. Our experiences are never the same. They never will be."

Sorrow poured over Margo's body like cold water down her back. She felt lightheaded and tired, alone on the other side of a line she couldn't climb back over, and her eyelids drooped. She cradled the Erase-and-Replace in her arms as if it were a newborn child.

"Although," she continued, "Slater told me what I'd learn could also just be underwhelming. Maybe I actually had a normal childhood after all."

"Remember what I told you? The worst thing a person can do is make themselves the most influential person in your life for their own self-benefit. Or, in Slater's case, their own amusement. Why are you giving in to him?"

"Because I've been naïve for far too long, Royce." Margo slid the helmet onto her head, coloring her coworker and all their surroundings a shade of teal. "It's time I've finally learned what life's really like."

"Sandoval..."

"Just go. I'll be alright. I have to be."

She watched Royce trudge out of the room, and a part of her felt as if she'd made another mistake, one of many in less than a month. But she forced those doubts away as the Psychwatch logo flashed before her, vanishing into dust as more words stretched across the tinted plastic inches before her eyes.

PLEASE INPUT CREDENTIALS:

NAME

BIRTHDATE

PSYCHWATCH DIVISION

HOLD THE GREEN BUTTON DOWN FOR 3 SECONDS TO INPUT DATA.

An illustration of the helmet appeared besides the instructions, displaying the side containing the buttons. The green button lay positioned between the red and blue, blinking in and out of existence. Margo did as instructed and held the button down with her middle finger.

The instructions and the illustration vanished, replaced by a new strand of information.

NAME: SANDOVAL, MARGO O.

DOB: 01/07/2022

DIVISION: EMPATH/NEUTRALIZER (EMPLOYED FOR APPROXIMATELY 3 MONTHS)

CREDENTIALS