March 25, 2045 - 12:30 PM

An hour and fifteen minutes after her unnerving encounter with Jack Holloway along with a lunch break, Margo walked down a corridor toward the main office in silence, still having trouble comprehending the fact Holloway was a Psychwatch officer. At the end of the hallway, Carl and Nikki sat together on a couch. Nikki looked incredibly uncomfortable as she took a bite out of her apple, and Carl was the only one bothering to hold a conversation.

"Hey, you two," Margo said.

"Hey, Mar—uh, Miss Sandoval," Carl corrected himself.

"Aww, we don't need to be that professional, do we? We're still buddies, right, Carl?"

Carl smiled. "Good point." He cleared his throat. "Nikki here told me the two of you were stuck supervising Jack Holloway's evaluation. What's the point of redemption therapy if he's not even willing to cooperate?"

"I was thinking the same thing. But haven't you known him for a while?"

"Yeah. I taught him how to fight."

Both Margo and Nikki raised their brow. "Excuse me?" Margo asked.

"Technically, it was Vince who taught him. Yeah, one faithful and—depending on your experience with Holloway—possibly unlucky day, Vince decided to take the spotlight and left me and Catalina in the dark for a while. Jack managed to earn his sympathy, and long story short, Holloway is trained in mixed martial arts now."

"So you're the reason Jack's so dangerous?" Nikki asked.

"I already told you, honey. I wasn't in control that day. That's why we don't trust Vince that much. And in all honesty, I don't regret preventing him from learning self-defense. There are a lot of people who'd rather he die than continue his treatment."

"Didn't he beat a teen half to death during one of his first assignments?" Margo asked in concern.

Carl stayed silent, mostly because he realized he was trying too hard to defend a sociopath. "Well," he replied awkwardly, "the kid was responsible for influencing his classmate's suicide, and he didn't help himself by proudly admitting he did it. So it's not like a lot of people would've stood up for him anyway."

"That doesn't give them the excuse to condone violence, especially with all these stigmas going on."

"Wow, you sound so much like Catty. But you're right, honey. I've just been making excuses. My point was that we were trying to find a way to put his conditions to good use. And we did, in a way. He's been helping us out with crime scene investigations in the Psycho Slums."

"W-W-What are Psycho Slums?" Nikki stuttered.

Margo was surprised to hear her say that. Kids around her age were always talking about the Psycho Slums. Most of them were blind to its darker nature, seeing it as an opportunity to get away with debauchery. There were countless reports of teen runaways and underage pregnancies in the Psycho Slums as well as many infamous reports of statutory rape due to a lack of proper law enforcement. No one could figure out why regular cops were so afraid of the Psycho Slums. It was as if only Psychwatch had the guts to trek through its labyrinthine alleyways of insanity.

All of a sudden, their colleague Royce emerged from another room and approached the three of them. "Maslow, I have a question," he declared, nudging his glasses further up his nose.

"Hi there, Royce," Margo said, extending her hand out for a handshake.

Royce grimaced at her gesture. "I hate to be rude, but I don't like being touched," he replied sheepishly. "How about a fist-bump instead?"

The two of them exchanged an awkward fist-bump before Royce resumed. "Maslow, where's your nephew? I need his render of the unofficial map of the Psycho Slums."

"Oh shoot, I forgot Holden worked here, too," Margo chimed in. "How long has that been going on, Carl?"

"He's been here as long as Nikki," Carl replied. "Still going through the internship. Since he's part of an early college program, he should be able to start early once it's over."

"I know who he is, Maslow," Royce interrupted. "I'm wondering where he is."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Computer lab as usual. Probably leeching off his dad's Specter account again."

Everyone groaned. Margo had known Holden Sanger for a long time, even before Psychwatch, and one thing she knew was that the boy had wandering eyes and a dirty mind. He had enough restraint and dignity to control his urges, but he was shameless when admitting what he was thinking. However, the boy was intelligent and responsible enough to garner an internship with Psychwatch, and the fact Carl was his uncle definitely worked to his advantage.

Margo followed Royce down the hall to fetch a map, leaving Carl and Nikki behind once more. "What's the map for, Royce?" Margo asked.

"Not sure if you heard," Royce replied. "Two days ago, Inspector Andrade, your buddy Carl, and I discovered a few dead Wonderland dealers out in an offline neighborhood. Normally we'd leave petty crimes like these to the cops, but the bodies...dear God. Their remains were nauseating to look at, to say the least."

"That's awful. But I'm afraid I still don't understand the point of the map. Don't you already have their location? Or have incidents like these occurred before?"

"That's exactly why, Sandoval. Similar incidents have been occurring all throughout offline neighborhoods, and not just here in Philadelphia. A couple of months ago in Harrisburg, five people were found dangling from the ceiling of an abandoned theater by their own guts like puppets."

Margo grimaced at the thought. "The worst criminals are admittedly the most creative. But do you think it's the same person doing everything?"

"In all honesty, it'll be easier if it is just a single person. Once they reveal their humanity by making that one little mistake and become one with the P3S, we'll have them under our control in no time."

The two of them stopped in front of a closed door. A window hovered next to it, offering them a glimpse into a room lined with holographic screens. One screen was blocking the window, resulting in its opacity. They knew someone was in there, but all they could make out was their silhouette.

"Royce," Margo continued. "What if we are the first to make that one little mistake? What if we're the first to prove our humanity?"

Royce adjusted his glasses. "Then I guess we'll have to show them that there's nothing wrong with being human. Never let them control you, Sandoval. If they try to get personal, keep them from making a new connection. The worst thing a person can do is make themselves the most influential person in your life for their own self-benefit."

Margo quietly nodded. She and Royce waited patiently as the SanityScan confirmed their mental stability and permitted them access into the computer lab.

The first thing they saw was seventeen-year-old Holden Sanger leaning back into his seat. He looked almost exactly like a younger version of his uncle Carl: black hair, pale skin, and green eyes hidden behind a VR headset. Royce used his ThoughtControl piece to gain access into the headset's feed, and sure enough the first thing that came into view was an incredibly beautiful woman wearing hardly anything as she gyrated to slow, hypnotic music. The Specter's VR logo on the woman's bra just confirmed his assumptions even further.

"I'm really tempted to cut off the power to the headset," Royce said, "but I feel like I'd accidentally make the entire building black out."

"Why the hell would he access Specter's here of all places?" Margo chuckled. "You'd think he'd want a little privacy."

"Aside from being knowledgeable in electronics and psychology, there's not much for that kid to brag about." Royce glanced over at Holden's desk. The whole thing was disorganized, with his ThoughtControl piece lost in a pile of file cartridges and a deactivated holo-computer. And like many other Psychwatch employees, a pillbox lay beside him on the table. "Still can't help but feel a little sympathy for him, though."

"What's his diag—" Margo was about to ask before stopping immediately. "Oh, right. It is a Psychwatch officer's responsibility to never define his or her colleagues by their condition. That is why our mental health statuses remain classified unless the knowledge of our personal information works for the benefit of our patients."

"Very good, Sandoval," Royce replied. "A tad bit generic, but still admirable."

"I didn't come up with that. It was written in the DSM-6."

"Watch this," Royce said, ignoring her last comment. "I'm not sure if Carl told you already, but I'm not too bad as a hacker."

Margo's eyes widened. "That'll come in handy. If you want to get arrested."

Once again Royce ignored her comment as he activated his ThoughtControl piece to sync up with Holden's headset once more. The process was already working as Holden carefully pulled himself back into his chair, clearly aware something unusual was about to happen. But then came the grand finale.

"A LITTLE OLD FOR YOU, ISNT SHE?!" boomed Royce's voice into the headset.

Holden launched out of his seat with a yelp, frantically apologizing to the VR stripper. She didn't appreciate the reveal that his confidence was as fake as she was. All he could do was blabber incoherently as she faded from the screen, and he was greeted by the Specter's logo once more as his headset automatically powered off.

"What the fuck, Brian?!" Holden exclaimed, clasping the headset in his hands. "That last dance cost me forty-five bucks!"

"It's not my fault all the Specter AI's you request are gold diggers," Royce replied. "Why don't you try interacting with a real girl for a change?"

"It's kinda fucking hard finding a date while working with doctor-cops! Some people are into that, even turned on by that. But nobody I fucking know! That's for sure! Oh shit..." Holden paused his profanity-laced tirade once he noticed his old friend. "Hey, Margo. Forgot you officially made it onto the team. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks?" Margo replied awkwardly. "I'd be a little more flattered if I hadn't just caught you using your Specter's account in public. Not that this is the first time I've caught you."

"Hey, that last time was just because of my dad's Fourth of July party. Even Uncle Carl joined in at one point. Or at least he did until Catalina took control."

"Yeah, that's great, kid," Royce chimed in impatiently. "Your uncle and I need a map of the Psycho Slums."

"Let me guess," Holden replied. "You're trying to make connections between the crimes. Add significance. Find some new Trinity Killer or Hannibal Lecter wannabe. I hate to break it to you nor can I believe I'm the one having to break it to you, but they're probably isn't anything significant about these murders."

"Have you been spending too much time around Holloway? Hope you're not developing a nihilistic streak like him."

"Can't. Commissioner Mason said that nobody younger than eighteen can be around him."

"So Nikki was barely allowed to be around him," Margo declared. "But what makes you think these murders aren't significant?"

"I don't mean significant like they don't matter," Holden continued as he placed the headset down on his desk. "Anyone with common sense and morals would agree that any murder is bad, of course. I'm just saying that whoever is doing this probably doesn't have any long-term plans. Like if he's just killing because he's in the mood."

"We're not making connections yet," Royce replied. "We hate to admit it, but there's gonna be more. The latest incident we've had is the murder of four Wonderland users in an offline neighborhood, and the only reason any of us had ever even heard of it is because their information was part of the P3S before they entered the neighborhood. If they're not part of the P3S, they hardly even exist."

"Even after all these years, I still find it hard to believe people wouldn't want to become one with the System," Margo said. "You'd think they'd find it safer."

"Actually," Holden interjected as his fingers drummed against the letters on the keyboard, "a lot of people have been feeling the opposite. They don't see Psychwatch as a mental healthcare organization. They define them by the Neutralizers. They see us as hunting dogs preying on weak, wounded animals."

A holographic screen stretched across the wall displaying a map of Philadelphia. The areas shrouded in blue indicated connection to the P3S while the streets and neighborhoods marked in red indicated a lack of connection to the System. Therefore, the red parts represented the Psycho Slums. If one found themselves unlucky enough to venture beyond the borders of Psychwatch's blue boundaries, they could disappear forever into the night.

"I've been studying these maps for a while," Holden resumed, popping a pill from his pillbox as his alarm buzzed to indicate the time for his medication. "Since Psychwatch only operates in the states that made up the original thirteen colonies, it wasn't that hard to compare the P3S data of various cities. And according to this data, Philadelphia has one of the smallest amounts of Psycho Slums in the country, with only twelve percent of the city remaining offline."

"Which parts are offline?" Margo asked.

"Mostly neighborhoods that have always had crime problems like Hunting Park and Nicetown, but the worst parts are the abandoned suburbs and shopping areas. Once supermarket AI's and online markets became the fad, malls went silent like ghost towns. Even the zoo went completely silent following the nationwide Red Riots. Now, only homeless and unregistered citizens hang out there."

"And yet some people still don't want our help," Carl chimed in. Margo, Royce, and Holden looked back at the door to see him standing there. "Margo, you're smart. Do you know why these Psycho Slums still exist?"

"Because we're afraid of each other," she replied carefully. A question like that wasn't the best to ask in public. "The public is afraid of Psychwatch because of our more utilitarian approach to helping people. They don't want to lose the right to their thoughts and desires because they might not pass as normal. We may consider it help, but they may just see it as enforcement. And Psychwatch is afraid of them because we won't know what's going in their heads if they don't let us in. We can't predict the unpredictable. We can't stop them from going through with desires that could bring them more harm than pleasure."

"So they isolate themselves in their little neighborhoods and districts," Carl added. "Regular cops have been doing their best not to discriminate by putting them in jail just for being diagnosed with something they didn't ask for. And when there are a few bad apples in the batch, they're never around to stop them. That's when innocent people get hurt."

"That's where we come in. Right, Carl?"

Carl smiled. "Yes, ma'am." He turned his view back to Holden and waited a few seconds as he downloaded the map to his ThoughtControl piece. "Thanks for the map, buddy. The team's gonna need it."

"So what's the plan, Uncle Carl?" Holden asked.

"Just gotta be on the lookout. We haven't identified any of the perps from the last incident, so we're still gathering data from the SanityScans. If we end up finding multiple suspects, we may need to do a temporary mass evaluation of the Psycho Slums using the portable Scans."

"But you guys can't stay there for long with portable Scans. Not our territory, remember?"

"Exactly, buddy. So we gotta be quick and careful."