October 30, 2045 - 2:50 PM

Shadows eclipsed the hall leading toward Margo's cell, and Carl's steps resonated with the beat of his heart. His hands and body shivered, yet no draft of air reached him deep within the heart of Psychwatch. Or perhaps the hollow cavern where a heart should've been.

"Did I really say that out loud?" Carl asked. I need to see my daughter again. So benevolent, and yet so pathetic. So desperate. He'd filled in the blanks so his superiors couldn't get to them first. "Please, someone tell me I didn't say that out loud."

I don't know, man, said Loki. The moment came and went. Maybe no one heard it.

"The fact I actually said it is the problem. Why did you guys let that happen?"

There's nothing to be ashamed of, mi precioso, said Catalina. You see her as family. That's a wonderful thing! Even Holden finally understands. Why do you still feel so much pain?

"I'm scared they'll hold it over me and Margo. And I can't just leave this job! I don't have anywhere else to go, and we almost have those masked maniacs cornered."

Maybe we should take time off. Go somewhere far away, somewhere nice, and take Margo and her mother with you. We can come back when you're ready.

"That's not how this works, Catty."

Well, how does it work, Carl? How will you know when you've reached your limits?

"I thought you guys would be the ones who'd know."

The hallway ended, a wall of metal panels blocking him.

You're stronger than you think, Carl, said Catalina. We will protect you no matter what. But you also need to recognize what is hurting you and what is building you up.

Carl nodded his head. He eyed the SanityScan in the corner, remaining still.

Carl?

The Scan squeaked to life, its lens stretching towards the ceiling before focusing on Carl, and he stared the eye of Psychwatch down, its beeps and twitches making him flinch. He'd known the Scans his entire career, only now understanding how unwelcoming their presence was. He'd imagined how a goldfish felt on the other side of the glass, watched over with unwavering curiosity by the eye of a being so massive, it took a whole other world to encompass its size and power.

Eight seconds later, the Scan went dormant, slouched with its lens trained on the floor beneath it as the panels in the walls parted ways. Carl squinted as a flash of silver light crept through the broadening crevice, catching his eyes, and as the light dimmed, he saw Margo slumped on a sofa, glaring at the ceiling above her.

Carl, said Catalina. We are here for you. Please remember that.

"I will, Catty," he said, and he marched into the cell.

The panels returned to seal Carl into the cell, clicking and sliding into place until the corridor vanished from sight. One would've never suspected the cell had an entrance. Carl paused before his old friend, a part of him hoping she would look at him, welcome him back. Say something deadpan and witty like "Long time no see" or "There's a familiar face." But he knew he'd asked for too much.

Even with the ability to peek into the human mind thanks to Psychwatch, humans remained an unpredictable species, one better understood through risk and chance.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, his voice soft, afraid he'd depart the room amidst another dissociative episode like their last encounter.

Margo didn't respond. The ceiling's grasp on her attention remained strong as steel.

"Margo, I..." Carl took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"You apologize a lot," said Margo in a harsh croak. "You know that, right?"

Carl's heart felt like a rock, and her words were a chisel forced into its side. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Did I apologize that much, too? When I was younger?"

Carl nodded his head. "Yeah. It also took you some time to stop calling me 'sir' or 'officer', but we got there eventually."

"Was this before or after we erased my memories?"

The chisel dug dipper. "This was after that, Margo," said Carl. "You remember when we met, right?"

"I dunno, Carl. Do I? Or was that just another fake memory? Or better yet, was that just a psychotic episode or a crazy dream? You tell me."

I will pull you out if I need to, whispered Vince, and Carl dug his fingers into his hair. Anything to remain in control, even if he'd only cemented the truth. That he hardly had an ounce of it.

Clearing his throat, Carl said, "I totally understand that you're still angry at me—"

"I'm not angry at you," said Margo. "Just incredibly frustrated."

"I can imagine, kid." Carl paused, nodding profusely despite his position out of Margo's line of sight. "A few months isn't enough time to wrap your mind around everything."

"Oh, I've had plenty of time to decipher things, especially with nothing to do in here."

Off to a careful start so far, Carl thought.

He took a seat beside Margo on the sofa, relieved neither of them disturbed the other. No recoiling. No shaking hands. A good start, even if a melancholic one.

"What have you deciphered so far?" Carl asked.

"Not a lot," Margo said. "I try to do it after the antipsychotics have kicked in, so I don't deceive myself. But even then, I should probably look more into it with you or my...mom..."

"She wants to come visit you, Margo. Honest to God. She just hasn't had the time."

"Four months isn't enough time? Are you serious?"

Carl closed his eyes, his teeth grit, defeat imminent.

Margo finally sat up. The glare she'd flashed Carl made him wish she'd kept her eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Carl, what the hell has she been doing this entire time?" she said. "When was the last time you even saw her?"

"Same as you, honey. She's—"

"Don't call me 'honey.'"

Carl nodded, hoping he could ingrain that new restriction. "Right. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Your mother is struggling to cope with this, too. She's trying to find help, someone to talk to. Preferably a mental health professional here. But she's doing this for you."

"What, to make up for lying to me all these years?"

Carl's mouth went dry. "In a way, yes. But she's not being selfish, Margo. She made a mistake not telling you sooner, I admit, and sadly she's learned a little too soon that keeping a secret for this long has psychological consequences. But she's doing the right thing. She's doing something you and I should start doing."

Margo curled her fingers into fists. "Abandoning our families?"

Carl winced. "No, kid. She's taking care of herself before she tries to take care of someone else. You said it yourself. She could've been better back then, right?"

"We all could've been fucking better, Carl!" Margo exclaimed. "My dad could've loved me and my mom. Your mom could've been a decent fucking human being. But we didn't get any of that!"

"That's all out of our control, Margo. Almost everything is!"

"Then why does Psychwatch keep pretending that it has control over everything? I mean, how many people have died this year in this city alone?"

Carl closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. "Who told you Psychwatch had everything under control?"

"You did."

Of course, he thought, and he took one more breath. "Well, I shouldn't have lied. About that. About your father. And about your childhood memories. But...I thought I was doing the right thing."

He looked away from Margo, gazing off toward the panels sealing the exit. "I never meant to make you think I knew what I was doing," he said.

The two of them sat in silence. Only the whir of the SanityScan, a mechanical vulture perched in the corner, filled the vacancy. Carl slid into the seat, gazing up at the ceiling, now understanding its appeal. The tranquility, the ceasefire. A necessary rest.

While he kept his eyes on the lights above him, he detected his young friend copying his position, sliding further into the seat until her head bent back, forcing her eyes up toward the ceiling. The truce was no longer one-sided. They'd both come to the agreement that peace was the objective.

Perhaps all the anger had washed over.

"Carl?"

Carl turned his head. "Yes?"

"Do we ever really reach a point where we know what we're doing?"

"As Psychwatch officers or as people?"

Margo shrugged. "Either one, I guess."

Carl scratched his head. "Let's see. How old are you now?"

"Twenty-three. You?"

"Fifty. Although, I don't like to think about that."

Margo's eyes widened. "Oh crap, I didn't mean to bring up—"

"Nah, it's alright, I just don't like reminding myself that I'm old. Although, having my house ransacked by my own coworkers definitely gives me another reason to hate my fiftieth birthday."

"What would you have wanted to do that day?"

Carl shrugged. "Probably dinner at Atmos Terrace with you and your mother. Maybe even a movie or something."

He'd finally gotten Margo to look at him. "But Atmos Terrace is my favorite restaurant."

"What, it can't be my favorite, too?"

Margo managed a chuckle. And Carl felt like he'd reached the end of a marathon.

"I've missed hearing you laugh," he said. "You're probably the only one I know who still does that nowadays."

"I haven't had much to laugh at lately," said Margo. "You?"

Carl shook his head. "Nah. This job, it...doesn't allow for much relaxation. I mean, we're supposed to be helping people find peace. But this is the most relaxed I've felt in months."

"Have you tried spending time with Holden and Nikki, at least?"

Carl sighed, hoping their conversation hadn't reached another roadblock. "I've tried. But the two have school and family, and...I could've done better. Especially with Holden."

Margo's eyelids hung low. "Does he still get angry?"

"Yeah, of course, but he's accepting it better than he used to. But I tried reaching out to his mother again. That's where the problem began."

"Oh shit, you haven't seen your sister in ages, right? How did that go? If you mind me asking."

Carl nodded, grimacing as he reflected on that night. "Well, I'd brought Holden home from work, so I thought it would've been a nice opportunity to see how she was doing. But I was told that it'd be best if Holden quit working here at Psychwatch and...that I keep my distance from them."

Margo gasped.

"Once he leaves Psychwatch," said Carl, "I probably won't see him again for a very long time."

"I'm really sorry about that, Carl. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Carl managed a small smile. "Not yet. You just keep taking some time to yourself."

"I've been doing that for four months. I'm getting out of here."

"Well, you seem better than ever, kiddo. I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time. Hopefully, after the rest of us catch that masked asshole terrorizing this city, when it'll be safer."

"No, really, Carl. Mason came in earlier to tell me that today is my last day here in the psych ward."

Carl felt fused to his seat, weights planted on his legs, arms, and shoulders. He wanted to leap from his seat, but he couldn't. There's a catch to this, he thought. There's always a goddamn catch with Mason.

"I'm happy to hear that," he said, his voice cracking. "Did she say anything else?"

"Promise me you won't freak out?" Margo said.

You were doing so well, Vince said. Do we have to take you out of there?

"I'll be fine," Carl hissed. He sensed that neither Margo nor his alters believed him.

But Margo continued. "Mason says today is my last day, but she also offered me my job back. She says I can start again tomorrow in the evening. Shouldn't be that busy. She says she'll put me in a more relaxed position. Probably not street patrol, since it's Halloween."

"So she's going to assign you to the Empath division?"

Margo shook her head. "No. She says there really isn't much need for them anymore. Not with the entire city finally within the ranges of the Scans."

Oh no, Carl thought. What has Mason done to her?

"That's not true," he said. "We absolutely need Empaths, Margo. We've been wielding our Fatemakers for too long! We need to remind this city that we're here to comfort and listen to them."

Margo raised her hands up. "I completely agree with you. And Mason says we'll bring them back again someday, but not while that guy in the mask is still on the loose. But it's almost over, Carl. The masked men have to slip up at some point. It's just like what Royce said."

"Margo, Royce was fired right after you were admitted here. He wasn't healthy."

"None of us are, and that's the point. Psychwatch doesn't know everything. Nobody does! But Mason says they're learning to avoid their past mistakes. We won't be killing innocents anymore, Carl! Just the masked men."

What the hell is going on? Why does Mason suddenly have so much control over her again?

"Margo," Carl said, his voice low and careful, "remember what Mason did to me. And what she did to Jack. Do you really think she has your best interests in mind?"

"Well, no, but my best interests are stupid! And that's the problem, Carl. I was naïve when I joined Psychwatch. I actually thought I could save everyone. But we can't! You know what we can do, though? We can stop the ones that hurt us. We can put them in place."

Carl exhaled. "Your best interests are not stupid. So many people underestimate new experiences, especially ones they think will come naturally to them. And yes, maybe thinking you could save the world was a little too idealistic for your own good, but you also need to remember who you're working for."

Suddenly, all enthusiasm left Margo, and her eyes became glassy. She sat so still, Carl lurched away, fearing something had shut off inside her.

Margo glared at Carl once again and whispered, "So do you."

"What?" Carl said.

"They gave me options, Carl. But do you really think I have a say in this? After how I responded to my diagnosis? How I got myself into this cell?"

"Margo."

"I haven't used a ThoughtControl piece in months. And without a job here, I don't know what Psychwatch will do to me." Her hands shook. "Have you ever thought about what they could do to you? If you left Psychwatch?"

How about what they've already done to us? said Catalina. Listen to her, Carl. Does she sound like her usual self? What could Mason have told her? Or done to her?

"As long as those Scans are up," Margo said, her voice only a decibel above a whisper, "I can't have an opposing view. I need to keep working here. At least until we've apprehended the masked men. I need to make him pay for what he did to those people at the rally. And the Rabbit Hole. And Dottie and..."

Carl sighed. "Margo."

"I need to make him pay for trying to make me believe he was actually my father."

If you'd like to disappear from this, said Vince, I'd understand completely. I can bring you back when the time is right again.

Stay out of this, Carl thought, and he froze as his daughter rested her hand upon his shoulder.

"Carl," said Margo, "tell Mason I'll come back. I'll take my meds, and I'll use my Fatemaker. I want to do the right thing and make Psychwatch a better agency."

Carl closed his eyes, resisting tears. His eyes grew watery when he heard her whisper, "I want to be the future."

I'm powerless. I'm nothing. Any family I make will leave me in the end. Maybe I deserve it.

You're getting out of there, said Vince, and the doctor-cop waded in darkness, a sensation like cold water consuming him. When he looked to his right, he saw Catalina lying on her back, her hair and her clothes blowing away from her, as if she were falling. She looked at him, distressed, heartbroken. Her lips moved, but nothing came out. He just had to wait several more seconds before the sounds would get to him, and he'd know what she'd said.

But Vince yanked him back into the light.

He stood before the panels concealing the cell's exit, and his pointer finger settled on the ThoughtControl piece in his ear. Vince must've spoken to Mason for him, beginning Margo's return to Psychwatch. He turned around to see Margo positioned on the sofa, quivering but sowing new seeds of determination. Mason had really done it. She'd revived the poor girl's loyalty to a self-destructive cause.

A spectral green glow radiated from the panels in the wall, and the cell's AI declared, "Stand back. An authorized Psychwatch personnel is entering the room."

The panels vanished, and Mason approached the two doctor-cops.

"Hello again, Maslow," she said. "Have you made your final decision, Sandoval?"

No, Carl thought. You made it for her.

In that split second, Carl saw a smirk cross the commissioner's face. "Sandoval?" she repeated.

"Yeah," said Margo. "I'm back."

* * *

Four months since she'd worn civilian clothing. Four months since she'd stepped foot in the lobby. The halls with their circuit-like pinstripes, the SanityScans observing like vultures, the skylights in the waiting rooms bathing the seats in sunlight. Margo Sandoval, a stranger in a world once known.

Four months, she thought. That's not a lot of time. And yet so much has happened without me here. That's going to change.

She glanced down at her feet, noting how similar the echoes in the halls were to those in her cell. Without another person there, every footstep came back to her, reminding her of how small she was to Psychwatch. How impotent when standing alone.

Then she heard her name. Looking up, she saw Holden and Nikki running toward her. The two of them froze before her, waiting for something to signify consent to hug her, and after she nodded, Margo found herself embraced by the two young Psychwatch officers. Try as she could, a smile couldn't cross her face the way it used to. She had to force herself.

When her younger subordinates let go, she studied each of them, hoping to detect a positive development in the time since she'd last seen them. Her standards were lower, however, as she'd heard their voices many times over her cell's speakers, the two of them serving as her safeguards on many days. But she'd concluded that they were doing the best they could, struggling just as much as she was to maintain a smile.

"How are you feeling?" Holden said.

"Neutral," she said. "Almost like I don't know what to feel yet. Like I'm still deciding."

"W-W-Where's Carl?" said Nikki.

"He's back there," said Margo. "I think he's talking with the commissioner. But how are you guys doing?"

"W-W-We were mostly j-j-just waiting for you. If y-y-you'd stayed another day, Kusanagi would've been watching over you."

Margo nodded. "How is he doing?"

Holden winced. "A little shaken up." He leaned in closer, whispering the rest. "Royce stopped by for a therapy session earlier."

"Even though he doesn't work here anymore?"

"Yeah. Doesn't mean he was entirely exiled by Psychwatch apart from never being able to work here anymore. But he and Kusanagi got in a small fight because Royce's P3S data was still blocked like he'd never quit, and when Kusanagi asked him about it, the guy broke down. He kept talking about how terrified he was of what Psychwatch would do to him once they'd see his profile."

"But he's been working for them for years."

"Exactly! But he thinks Psychwatch tries to get rid of discharged officers to cover up everything. I mean, I think it's kinda bullshit considering so many people hate Psychwatch anyway, but...he was fucking terrified, Margo. He must've done something."

Margo shrugged. "Just need to keep a closer eye on him."

Holden stood still, mouth slightly ajar. "Damn. You don't seem like you just walked out of a psych ward. Not to be insulting or anything."

"Don't worry, I'm not insulted. I just feel...healed. Like I needed that time to myself in the end."

"Uh, Margo?" Nikki said. "H-H-How are you handling your, uh...real memories?"

Margo's brow raised, and the younger officer before her stepped back. Margo threw her hand up and forced another reassuring smirk, saying, "It's okay, Nikki. I've had time to think about them. A lot of time. And...I'll eventually understand them all. It's more the fact no one told me they were erased and changed to begin with that upset me the most."

"But you're not mad at us, right?" Holden said, and Margo shook her head. The sight of him letting out a relieved exhale amused her inside.

"I'm glad you guys are okay," she said.

"Where are you heading now?"

"There's one more person I need to see about my memories."

* * *

The evening sky appeared hazy behind the layer of dust coating her car, the city lights peering through like ghostly entities, the fallout of several nights of contaminated rain. Margo sat back in her seat, contemplating what to say to her mother.

What was the right approach for discussing the erasure and subsequent modification of one's memories? Anger for keeping it all a secret, one that proved self-destructive overtime? Disgust for believing such a process would prove more beneficial than detrimental? Confusion as to why she'd left her own memories unscathed while standing back and observing the revision of her daughter's past? Perhaps mutating all three into the bundle of uncertainty that was the average human mind in the face of an unfamiliar situation.

We'll see, she declared, tonguing the miniscule spot in her mouth where her right molar tooth used to be, and she glanced at the timer on her pillbox. 16 hours, 38 minutes, 3 seconds, it read.

"You have arrived at your destination," said her car, and the vehicle curtailed to a patient speed, patrolling the lot of the apartment complex for an empty parking spot.

I wonder how Carl would feel about this. Should I tell him I'm visiting her?

Her car found a spot and came to a halt.

I'll tell him later.

She stepped out and made her way to her mother's apartment, freezing before the front door. Knocked three times as she always did before, but only dread flooded her veins. She clenched her teeth, subconsciously expecting another axe-wielding maniac to come charging out at her rather than her mother.

When the knob rotated and the door opened with a creak, Margo still didn't get what she came for. She wanted her mother. What she got was someone so paranoid and gaunt, only her fingernails were visible at the rim of the door, trembling.

Margo took a deep breath to suppress her dismay and said, "Hey, Mom. I'm...I'm finally done with Psychwatch."

The speed with which the door flew open made Margo realize she'd uttered the wrong words. But at least they'd both be disappointed in the end.

Once the door had closed behind her, and she'd glimpsed the rest of what remained of her mother, Margo said, "I don't mean I've quit. I just meant I'm out of the psych ward now. The commissioner offered me a job in exchange for my release, so...I still work there."

Karen nodded, eyes vacant and glaring away from her daughter. She walked into the kitchen without saying a word, rinsing out empty bowls in her sink.

"Uh, Mom. We have a dishwasher. It's...right next to you."

Her mother remained silent, still splashing water and soap on dishes that hardly had a spot on them to begin with.

"Mom?"

She watched Karen slouch her head before stepping into the kitchen. "Mom," she called again.

Then she heard sniffling. Seconds later, they were full-blown sobs.

"I know, I probably shouldn't be anywhere near Psychwatch anymore," Margo said. "But I really don't have a choice."

Karen shut the water off, hunched over the sink with her hands still wet. It physically hurt her to cry. Margo could see it. Every muscle in her mother's body tensed up, and her voice went so high, Margo imagined her splayed out beneath the force of a hulking individual or object, slowly crushed beneath its weight. She'd been dying slowly and alone all this time.

Margo approached Karen from behind, resting a hand on her shoulder. It lay there for only a second before she found herself in her mother's embrace, and she'd discovered how much shorter her mother had become compared to her.

"I'm okay now, Mom," Margo whispered, and she carefully wrapped her arms around her. "I'm okay."

By the time they'd let go, the sun had completed its descent beneath the horizon, and shadows bathed the apartment in darkness. The two Sandovals rested on the couch, staring at the blank holographic television screen hovering over a shelf lined with family photos. Karen crushed a ball of tissue in her hand.

"Mom," Margo said, "have you been going to therapy like everyone else has been saying?"

"Who's everyone else?" said Karen.

"Carl, Holden...I think that might be it. There's a man I work with named Joseph Kusanagi. Maybe you've seen him before?"

Karen shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Well, have you at least been going to someone for help? You don't look very good, Mom. What happened?"

Karen closed her eyes, exhuming air from her nostrils. "Yes, I know a man named Joseph Kusanagi. I attended therapy with him for a few weeks and then stopped going."

Margo buried her nails into the couch cushion. "Why?" she said.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. And I couldn't stop thinking this man had probably killed people before. Almost all doctor-cops have." Karen flashed her daughter a cautious glare.

"Yes, I've shot people before, too," she said, "but it was only ever in self-defense. I wouldn't even be here if I didn't take any of those shots."

"I believe you, Margo."

"Well, I'd hope so! But it's been hard to tell with you. I mean, just right now, you lied about not knowing who Kusanagi is."

"Could we talk about this another time?"

"I just got out of a psych ward, Mom! You owe me some answers!"

Another round of air exhumed from Karen's nostrils. "I will answer any question you have once you calm down. Okay?"

"Okay." Margo squeezed the cushion tighter. "Okay, I'm fine. I'm calm. See?"

Karen nodded her head. "So what do you want to ask me?"

"Why didn't you ever visit me?"

"I didn't think I could. After hearing about that incident with the Erase-and-Replace, I didn't think they'd ever let me near you again. And I didn't think you would ever want to be near me again after what you'd remember."

"All I remember is that you were the only member of our family who cared about me. It was you and me against Dad, and he almost won."

Karen nodded, closing her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Why didn't you erase your memories, too?"

Karen shrugged. "Felt like the right thing to do. That way, I could tell you the truth someday about whatever we might've revealed about ourselves. The day we went through with your procedure." Her daughter looked confused. "It's what you told me during the drive there," Karen added.

Then it clicked. "That was right before we almost hit that car," Margo said. "And that's what inspired you to have them convince me that Dad disappeared in a car crash."

"Right."

"Why did they keep it vague? Like how his body was never found?"

"Because his body really did disappear. They shot him through the neck, but he disappeared right before they could zip him into a bodybag. Sometimes...I dream he's beating on the door...rage in his voice..."

Margo realized both of them were shivering. The room needed more light. Fewer surprises.

"Anymore questions?" Karen said, though she sounded exhausted.

"Yeah," Margo said, her voice cracking. "Why did Dad do those things to us?"

Karen closed her eyes, exhaling loudly, and the two of them sat in silence for some time, as if racing to see who would find the most logical explanation first. But nothing proved more exhausting than a searching for something that never existed, and both women fought back tears in the end. By the time anyone uttered another word, Karen had buried her face in her hands, weeping quietly once more.

"Yeah," Margo whispered, composing herself after wiping away a single tear from her eye. "That was the dumbest fucking question anyone could ask."

Four months ago, Margo wouldn't have held back. But by then? All that haunted her was a numbness marked by a small sting, pricking her on the inside the longer she sat and pondered. She was sad? She was furious? Nothing. It all cancelled out, vanishing down an endless hole like a drain.

"But we made it, Mom," she said. "Fuck Dad. He's gone. He can't hurt us anymore. We've made new lives for ourselves."

She scooted closer to her mother and pulled her in for a hug. Karen shivered in her daughter's arms, but at least there was finally warmth.

"Mom?" whispered Margo. "I have to go back to work tomorrow. But can I stay for dinner?"

Silence. But she felt her mother nod her head, tears still trickling down her face.

"I'll make things better, Mom. I promise."