"I don't know what to tell you, Miss Seaver. All I can tell you is that he didn't suffocate as most people do. Since you asked, though, there were traces of oxygen in his lungs, too much for him have suffocated on the air around us.  Beyond that, there's nothing more I know." The doctor looked down at his paperwork, sighing.

Nym nodded silently. Her eyes scanned the papers before searching around the small cramped office. "Do you know what killed him?" she asked in a thin voice.

"Well, I can tell you that he took in a lot of carbon monoxide. That's probably what did the job. Do you remember what time you woke up and found him?"

Shaking her head, Nym looked back at the doctor while nervously picking at the skin around her nails. "No," she said.

He nodded and looked back down at his paperwork. "I'm sorry I can't give you any better answers than that. This was probably just an accident. I know it's hard to hear...but it happens," he said and got up, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You'll need to have your parents contact me for funeral arrangements."

Nym nodded, eyes fixed hollowly on the desk. She swallowed hard and the doctor pulled his hand away from her shoulder.

"If it's any consolation, Miss, you're not the first person to lose someone to this. Mrs. Pryor died of the same thing a few days ago. If anything, maybe someone will finally come down here and fix all this old rusty equipment up. Just be careful, alright? If your parents have questions, direct them to me."

"Okay," Nym answered.

The doctor nodded and left the office. 

Nym hugged her knees to her chest as best she could in the small chair before she let herself breakdown in tears again. Cormac had been her little brother, albeit only a year younger, but still her little brother. How could this happen? He'd been fine the night before. Then suddenly he wasn't and there had been nothing she could do. Nothing except watch as her little brother suffocated to death in her arms. If only she'd gotten there sooner. How was she going to tell her parents that her younger brother died and she was to blame? 

I never should've snapped at him to leave me alone. If I'd just let him stay...maybe this would be different, she thought, sniffling. It was her fault he'd gone to bed so early. She'd sent him off and now he was dead. 

Hiding her face in her arms, Nym started sobbing louder, wishing her parents were there. She knew they'd be mad she failed to save Cormac, but at least then she wouldn't be alone. 

What do I tell them? They need to come home to plan a funeral for their only son?

She bit her lip and quieted down as her heart sank into her stomach. Mom would call that night. She'd want to know how everything was going like she did every day. Nym couldn't lie. She couldn't live with that added guilt, but how was she supposed to break the news of Cormac's death to them? 

She'd break her poor mother's heart, and her father's too. How could she ever face them, let alone live with them after this? I'd be a living reminder they lost their son...

Hiding her face in her arms, Nym started sobbing all over again. She could hear the tears dripping against her oxygen mask as she gasped and gulped down air. She wanted to scream but no noise could get past the knot in her throat which only tightened when she tried.

I should've gotten there sooner. I could've saved him and avoided all of this...Shaking, she pulled her arms over her head and raked her fingers through her tangled ginger hair. She screwed her eyes shut and screamed soundlessly as the painful knot constricted her chest.

It's...all my...fault.

Her shoulder's slumped in and she buried her head in her knees. It became difficult to breathe even with her oxygen mask on and her breathing got short in fear. As the minutes ticked by, her eyes gradually began refusing to produce any more tears. Still, she continued choking on the knot in her throat. Briefly, she wished she could simply suffocate and leave behind both the responsibility of telling her parents and the burden of guilt. The thought of it brought comfort at first. Then fear prickled down her spine and she gasped deeply. She pressed her face into her knees forcing the plastic of the oxygen mask to cut into her cheeks. 

Desperately, she willed herself to keep crying to finish untangling the pain in her chest. Squeezing her eyes tighter, she thought of his face, but even that image couldn't force another tear. Unable to cry, she resigned herself to rubbing her eyes dry. Lifting her head, she uncurled herself and found the knot in her chest beginning to loosen. Breathing became easier and she forced deep breaths. They were the most painful breaths she ever took. 

"Miss Seaver?" a soft voice asked from behind her as the office door creaked back open.

Nym lifted her head slightly at the sound and tugged her sleeves down over her hands. She hastily rubbed at her face to dry any remaining tears from her cheeks. Then she looked back at the doctor and inhaled shakily.

"...Yes?"

"Do you need me to walk home with you, or would you rather I call someone to go with you?"

Shaking her head, Nym rose unsteadily to her feet. She reached for the back of the chair, feeling like she might faint, but stayed upright. "No. I'll be okay," she whispered.

The doctor nodded and held the door for her. Nym crossed the room and walked out. She ducked her head as she passed him and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. Her eyes lifted to the clock on the wall as she exited the office. It was nearly 2:53. She was going to be late for work. 

That morning, she'd called in sick for school and considered calling in sick for work, but right now she needed something just to keep her mind off of this. She needed some sense of normality. 

Her eyes turned to the gauge strapped to her arm that monitored the oxygen level in her tank and she sighed. No need to walk back to the Shelter first for a refill,  which meant she could only hope that between here and there she could come up with a good excuse for being late.

"You're moving slow today," commented Bea, one of the other girls who worked part-time.

Nym chose not to respond to the comment and just carried the crate of nozzles over to the bins. Most days she found it ironic that she worked in a factory that produced parts for oxygen tanks, yet everyone she knew had a tank that was at least ten or more years old. Even hers, which was considered new, was six-years-old.

Today nothing felt ironic.

Dumping the crate in the bin with the others, Nym began wheeling the bin over towards the loading stacks. She found a nearly complete pallet and began to load the crates onto there, careful to stack each one perfectly on top of the next. She took her time, not bothering to rush herself at all. 

"What, no response?" Bea, coming up beside Nym with her own bin.

"I was sick this morning, I'm still recovering," Nym lied flatly. 

"Oh, well, I hope you feel better," Bea said and silently went back to work.

Ignoring her, Nym finished stacking her crates and returned to get another load. A tinge of guilt bit her stomach at knowing she wasn't being her normal cordial self, but grief overrode it and she remained quiet. She'd hoped that work would instill some sense of normality to her daily routine and get her mind off of the night's events. The controlled environment of work often helped her gain some sense of stability. Instead, she found herself annoyed by everyone here, all the talking and noise. Even the simple clicking of the machines was getting on her nerves.

She wanted someone to see her pain and explain it to her, just to make some sense of why it had been Cormac and not her. But all she could muster were lies about being sick and steely expressions for anyone who tried to hold a conversation with her. Deep down, she knew people were worried. She was being anything but herself, yet she couldn't muster enough care to even fake a smile.

Slowly and neatly unpacking another bin of crates, Nym almost slipped and one of them slid forward with a heavy screech. She winced and ducked her head, feeling the stares of everyone around her. Whether they were actually looking or not didn't matter, she could feel it. She wanted to bolt, but her muscles froze up momentarily and instead, she reached mechanically for another crate, settling it gently beside the other one. 

She took a deep breath, eyes flickering to her oxygen gauge again. She had plenty of air, yet it still felt like every breath was thinner and harder than the last one. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and tried to take deep calming breaths.

"Nym..."

She yelped, her eyes jerking open as the image of Cormac's limp form invaded the darkness of her mind. She stumbled back against the bin, shuddering.

Bea paused and walked over. "Nym? Are you okay?" she asked, touching Nym's shoulder gently.

Shying back from Bea, Nym gulped down air, nodding. "I'm...fine..." she lied.

"You don't look fine. You sure you're not still sick?"

Nym's eyes darted around the room as her chest tightened with a feeling of breathlessness. The noise was rushing in at her from all directions: Bea's voice, the clicking, and grinding of the machinery, boots sounding across the floor, other low voices, shuffling, scraping. 

"Nym, you look really pale. I think you should go outside," Bea said.

Returning her gaze to the other girl's face, Nym consented silently and let Bea accompany her to the door. Then she weakly pushed it open and stepped outside. In the old literature, people always went outside for a breath of fresh air to clear their heads. Nym didn't need to leave the building for clean air but left instead to get away from the overwhelmed of noise. 

She let the door swish shut behind her and moved across the street to sit down on a bench. Gripping the edge, she forced herself to take deep breaths and focus on that. As her heart began to slow to a normal pace again and she could feel blood rush to her face, she became aware of the soft sound of steps clicking down the street.

Raising her gaze, Nym saw a pair of androids walking down the street as they patrolled the area, keeping an eye out for crimes and other offenses. The sun glinted off of their black faceplates, devoid of expression and feature.

"Nym...the creatures..stay away...from them...stay aware..from the creatures with...no faces..."

Cormac's last words rang in her head as she watched the androids approach, pass her and continue on down the street. Her brother had been delusional that night, the doctor confirmed it after she told him about the ravings.

Even so, unease settled in her gut as she watched the police androids turn the corner in perfect sync. Why the need for so many in a city with barely any crime?