Fuck. I ended up agreeing to the test.
Rule #7, don't do anything that would break the character of the face I have on. A huge problem was that my law student face would agree to this test, no question. If my face was something along the lines of Deen’s personality, it would've been easy to wiggle out of this. Getting trapped by my face again... urgh.
There was nothing wrong with me physically; they already cleared me. The issue here was that I fucking didn't want them to see what was going on inside my head. I hoped that stupid medicine or drug or whatever that was Myra gave to me would make my brain look normal; I didn't even know what it actually did.
Professor Deslys led me to a different room with a sci-fi-looking chair in the middle. It was a sleek white, egg-shaped pod with lines of blinking blue lights scrolling geometric patterns along its sides.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Professor Deslys said.
“Is this necessary, Professor?” I said in a feeble attempt to get out of this situation. But it was already too late, I already signed the waiver. Rule #7 was weighing down heavily on me.
“Necessary? No, it isn't necessary, my dear. A precaution. Wouldn’t you want to see your Eloyce Field Profile?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
“It will be interesting, I promise.”
Interesting? What’s up with that answer? I sat in the pod as a thought occurred to me. When the Professor discussed earlier all that gestalt unconsciousness bullshit, she cleared a table and the Melchor dude gave us two chairs. I may be wrong, but did that mean she didn’t discuss anything with Deen and Myra? If they did this test with Deen, she would've wanted to discuss this thoroughly. A large chance that she'd outright resist this.
“A moment, Ms. Erind,” Professor Deslys said. “The system was hibernating. Worth the wait, I promise you.” She was as excited as a child about to get a present.
This bitch! She actually didn’t test Deen and Myra. But why me? Did she know about my weird mind?
“You’re going to fall asleep for about five minutes, Ms. Erind. Don't fight it.”
“Wha—?” The machine whirred, a tingly feeling gently shocked me, and everything went black.
Hello there, myself. Fancy seeing you here.
I woke up with a gasp as if I stopped breathing for some time. Professor Deslys greeted me with a glass of water, which I thankfully accepted. She had a weird expression on her face.
“We’re done. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Erind.”
That was it? I just blinked. “There was nothing wrong, Professor?”
“Nothing,” she said in a disappointed tone. “You have a normal Eloyce Field. Abnormally normal is how I'd put it. It's hard to visualize the Eloyce Field because it's non-spatial, but you have a peculiarly calm and compact Field. It's good, I suppose, just not what I was expecting. To be candid, it almost appears fake given how calm it is.”
Is this the effect of Myra’s drug? “What were you expecting?” I tried hard to keep my face calm even though I was pissed at her.
“You may go now, Ms. Erind. The test results will be confidential. Melchor Institute will store a copy of the records for five years per BID guidelines. A permanent copy will be kept at the BID main repository.”
Fine, you don't want to answer me. I got up and started walking to the door, then turned back. I forgot my manners, so I bowed my head a bit, almost like a nod, and said, “Thank you, Professor.”
“It is unfortunate I couldn’t do a deep profiling of your Field, Ms. Erind. BID guidelines require higher clearance for more extensive use of this machine,” Professor said, pointing to the pod. “If we have the opportunity some other time, perhaps you would be interested in more tests.”
“I think I'm fine with my normal Field,” I said. I went out to look for Deen before the Professor get any more crazy ideas.
Deen and Myra were waiting for me at the steps outside Melchor Hall. Deen leaned by the railings of the main stairs, animatedly chatting with Melchor students; friends of Myra perhaps. I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smirk. It was funny she could easily make friends with people because she was naturally a friendly person, while I could also easily make friends because I was naturally good at approximating a face that could make friends with others. Outwardly, we were both friendly.
I slouched my shoulders forward and lowered my head, pretending I had a bad posture. I didn't. In high school, I had to learn yoga for one of my faces; a benefit that came of that was my good form. I also brushed my hair down with my fingers so a few strands would stray across my face.
Approaching them, I shuffled my feet hesitantly. Peering from the top of my fake glasses, I said in a voice loud enough to interrupt them, “Uh, excuse me…”, coupled with brushing my hair away from my face. Classic move.
“Erind! There you are,” Deen said. “Took you a while.”
“Yes, um...” I looked around at the Melchor students and adjusted my glasses.
“Oh, these are Myra’s batchmates,” Deen said.
Myra said, “Guys, this is Erind. Did I get your name correctly?"
“Uh-huh, it’s Erind.”
“Erind, that’s a cool name,” one of Myra’s friends said. They introduced themselves one by one while I maintained my shy posture. Their names went in one ear and out the other. I don't care about your names and I won't remember them.
And they warmed up to me, just like that.
Deen, with her personality, could easily socialize with them. By establishing myself as sort of her sidekick, they'd accept me by association even if my current face wasn't an outgoing charismatic persona. I was always interested in how fast I could get people to accept me, no matter the face I had on, and without them knowing I wouldn’t care if they all died in front of me.
That was the point though.
These people would never ever know what was going on inside my head. If I had my say on absolutely everything, no one would know what I was thinking.
Which was why I absolutely hated that bitch Professor Deslys for probing my mind.
I stepped forward into their circle and said, “How do we get back to Cresthorne?”
“Mr. Hurain said we could ride with the campus patrol. They're just rounding the corner, we can wait over there,” Deen said.
That was the name of the Melchor dude? Whatever. Good thing because it was too hot and too far to walk. “Let’s go then?” I said. I shyly faced the Melchor students, adjusting my glasses clumsily. “Oops, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
They assured me it was fine and that they were going to class anyway. What choice did they have? They already established friendly relations with me; they couldn’t ignore me or shoo me away, trapped by societal conventions of the circumstances to stop their conversation. It again reminded me how I was trapped by my face because of Rule #7. I clenched my fist as we walked to our ride back to Cresthorne.
“Can you move over there,” Myra said, climbing on the cart. “It'll be a bit cramped.”
“Myra, you’re coming with us?” I said.
“I’ll just get my sister’s stuff. I have a spare key for her locker at law school.”
“Oh, right.” I forgot about her dead sister. ‘Supposedly’ dead, excuse me.
Deen said, “Erind, Adrian said they're at Sanders Mall. They had a long wait at Casa Diaz and they just got a table. We can still catch up to them.”
“Yeah, that’s the place you mentioned earlier? Sure, I’ll come with you.”
The campus patrol dropped us off at Cresthorne and we went our separate ways. Deen didn’t go inside the building, heading instead to the parking lot to get her car. Myra followed me inside the building but went up to the second floor to get her sister’s belongings. I fetched my foldable bike by the racks.
I was waiting in front of Cresthorne for Deen when Myra came running.
"You guys are going to Sanders, right? Can I come with you?"
"We can ask Deen. Here she is now," I said as Deen's red SUV came rolling up to us.
"Hey, Deen," Myra said, peering inside the car's window. "Could you do me a huge favor? Can you drop me off along the way to Sanders? I live by a condo near there."
Societal convention trap once again.
Deen, of course, had no choice but to agree to it. Not that she would've refused; she was a good person after all as far as I could tell. Still. Trap scenario. All of us were in Deen’s car, me riding shotgun and Myra at the backseat with my foldable bike.
Now that I had some time to think, I reassessed my situation. Specifically, Professor Deslys. I looked at the car mirror to check the backseat. Myra was frowning, typing on her phone. I said, “Thanks for the blue medicine, Myra. Nothing bad really happened. I thought we were in trouble.”
“Huh?” Myra said. She put her phone away. “Oh yeah, don't mention it. I told you guys there was no problem. We didn’t even need to take it.”
Deen said, “It was such a relief when I passed the physical test. They didn’t even put the helmet on me.”
I narrowed my eyes. It was as I suspected. Professor Deslys singled me out to test with that egg pod thingy. Why? The only thing that came to mind was that I have an…abnormal mind.
How could she have known about it though? The only time I got tested before this was during pre-enrollment. Could she have gotten hold of my records because they were going to test us and then found something interesting in it? I had no idea what weird thing would that be to warrant her interest. She seemed pretty excited to test me. Just scientific curiosity?
Fortunately, my test didn't yield anything worrisome. Abnormally normal, she did say.
Am I in the clear then?
I guess so. I didn't even get to see my results as she promised. The next question was: did she bother me enough that I should bother her back?
Hmmm…not really.
“Where will I drop you off?” Deen said to Myra, breaking my train of thought.
“Number 21, Emerald Street. We take a left here and you’ll see the tall apartment building of Swartz.”
“Okay then. Can we pass through its parking area to get to Pearl Street on the other side?”
Myra checked her pockets. “I don’t have my pass right now. Really sorry guys, you’ll have to take a roundabout way going to Sander’s Mall from my place. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No problem at all,” Deen assured her. “We have time.” Which wasn’t true; she was just being nice.
Passing by Myra’s place added like ten minutes to our travel because of the nonsense traffic scheme of the Sanders business district. Tons of streets, some of them were one-way, or were one-way every other day, or were closed on specific days. Many people also parked along the side of the road so the traffic was heavy.
I absolutely detested this area. This was the closest place to hang out from the campus. High chances of bumping into someone I knew so I had to keep my face up. I also didn’t like being in crowds—I liked observing crowds, not wading through them.
“I hope there’s a parking spot,” Deen said after she got her card from the booth at the entrance of Sanders. Thankfully, we found an empty spot after roaming three underground parking levels of the mall.
As we walked to the elevator, the numbers on its right side started descending, going down to our level. “Nice timing,” I said.
The elevator doors opened and a person wearing baggy black overalls stood inside. A black ski mask covered his face. Deen and I stopped walking. Sensing the dangerous situation, she instinctively reached for my hand.
Are we getting robbed? I locked eyes with the guy.
He flicked both his hands to his sides and long spikes burst out of his palms, extending a couple of feet.
Barely forming any thoughts, I tightly gripped Deen’s hand and dragged her into the row of cars to our left. I crouched down, hiding behind the cars, pulling her down with me. We heard something whistle past our head. Glass broke, showering us with its pieces.
Rule #7: Don’t do anything that would break the character of the face, I reminded myself. I wasn't being heroic by taking Deen with me. The face I had on was her close friend. I couldn't push her to be the bait while I escaped. I had no fucking choice but to save her. Even in the face of danger, the Rules must be followed. This wasn't the first time Rule #7 was a detriment to me.
“Down, down, down,” I urgently repeated to Deen who was still in a state of shock. I half-crawled as I tugged her by the hand. “Quick. Come on!”
“What’s happening?”
“I have no idea but—” Something burst through the door of the car at my right side, barely missing my head.
What was this object? A spike or a stake like the ones used to kill vampires in those stories. I ducked under it and continued crawling.
The man was throwing spikes at us. Spikes! That didn’t sound normal at all. Shit, was this guy an Adumbrae? Or maybe he had bioaugments. But what kind of augments were spikes? Either way, we have to get out of here. I could hear him running towards us.
Fuck, moving while crouching was too slow. I got up and darted to the next row of cars, checking over my shoulder if Deen was following me. Thankfully, the man didn’t shoot us. I headed for a pillar with a huge number 4 painted on it the next row over.
“Where do we go?” Deen said, catching up to me.
“Column. Number 4,” I said in between huffs of air as I ran for my life. We squeezed ourselves between a pick-up truck and the column, rounded the column, and hid behind it.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
"Where do we go—."
"Shhh. Listen for his steps."
Deen peeked behind the pick-up truck. I immediately pulled her back when I saw her eyes go wide. Two black things blew past, barely missing her face. They struck the ground several feet behind us, burying themselves deep. The man was coming over to our side of the row of cars.
Go to the next row? We'll eventually run out of cars to hide behind when we reach the wall of the level.
The exit, where was it?!
Deen got up and started running for the ramp going to the upper parking level. But it was too far away.
I caught her and pulled her back. The man was running parallel to us, expecting us to go that way, and tried to head us off. Instead, I ran back to the elevator with Deen in tow. The elevator doors were still open. And there were usually stairs by the elevator; we could also take that.
The murderous bastard realized we were going back. His heavy steps became louder as he chased after us. He was still on the other side of the line of cars. And, fuck, was he a fast runner.
He threw spikes. Those didn’t have any problems punching through the cars between us. Deen screamed behind me. I heard her steps following me so she still must be fine. I bent lower while running, covering my head with my arms as if it'd help.
The spikes went high, through the car windows, and low, through the tires and the gaps between.
Run faster!
An explosion and a sharp yell.
I looked back. A spike blew through a tire and grazed Deen’s foot. She dropped to the floor from the pain, and that was enough for our assailant to get to our side of the row of cars. He jumped on a hatchback, making its alarms go off, and then dropped on our side.
Thinking fast, I saw the fire extinguisher attached to another concrete column near us. I climbed on the trunk of the brown sedan beside me, scrambled over the top, and clumsily slid down its hood. Our attacker paused for a bit, wondering which way to go.
Go for Deen! She’s right there!
And he did. I looked back and saw him walking to Deen, taking his sweet time now that he had cornered one of us.
I grabbed the fire extinguisher and tried to look for a fire alarm. Nothing. I ran back to Deen.
I'm going to kill this fucker!
Deen screamed for help. The guy in black stood in front of her. He raised an arm covered in spikes. I was running on pure bloodlust and rage like I never felt before. This wasn't only about Rule #7 anymore. This guy bothered me! He was the worst offender today! He’s going to get massacred now! Rule #4 beckoned for me.
Through the gap between two cars, I rushed with the fire extinguisher above my head, adrenaline giving me strength. I aimed the edge of the red cylinder at his neck.
Spikes erupted along his spine, piercing the fire extinguisher. White fog hissed out of the container, covering all of us. I dropped down, evading a swinging spiked arm. I found Deen’s leg. I pushed her. “Run!” I shouted. Through the haze, I could make out her form scrambling away.
I also tried to get out of the smoke cloud, running opposite the direction going to the elevator. A good call as the asshole blindly threw several spikes at the elevator. I coughed as I got out of the cloud of whatever was inside the fire extinguisher. Spikes flew everywhere.
I’m super, duper dead.
Deen better make it out of this alive and honor my memory as her best friend. A face should not be taken off even at the end of my life. I wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart or a heroic impulse. Stupidity or not, I just couldn’t break the Rules, I don’t know what to tell you.
I looked over my shoulder just as my would-be murderer burst out of the white smoke. Several spikes erupted from his body. I closed my eyes and crouched down, making myself as small as possible. Spikes struck the floor near me and the cars all around. I thought I heard Deen shouting over the orchestra of car alarms.
Did I get hit? I patted my body.
The fuck? I was completely fine!
Something blaring to my right. Bright lights of a car barreling towards me blinded me for a second. Wildly honking, tires screeching, the car swerved to avoid me. A sickening crunch and the sound of something thrown against the wall.
I rubbed my eyes. What happened? Did they hit him?
A male voice shouted, “Run! Run away! To the door!”
Door? At the far end of the parking area, there it was. An exit to the emergency stairs. My legs hurt, my lungs burned, and there was a stabbing pain at the right side of my abdomen from all the running. Still, I ran once again.
I had to.
There was shouting behind me. I didn’t dare look back.
“Stop! Don’t chase her!”
“Shit, just a bit more,” I panted. I pushed the heavy metal door with all my strength and threw myself in. Close it! “Lock, lock. How do I lock this?” I fumbled around. No lock. Where next?
I was in a stairwell. Stairs! Up or down? I leaned my body against the door to hold it closed. Which was a stupid thing to do.
Something hit the door on the other side. The sound of metal giving way…
Pain! Something hot dripped down my back. I stared down. A spike pierced through the metal door, straight through my body, bursting out of my stomach, skewering me. Blood seeped through my clothes.
I gripped the spike with both hands and tried to push it back out as I slowly stepped forward. I gritted my teeth. The spike slowly exited my body while I carefully moved away from the door.
Fighting back the urge to just lay down and wait for death, I limped up the stairs, exerting all my will to focus on getting to the next level, trying in vain to ignore the deep gnawing pain.
Damn it. This day was just the worst.
Temple
We can view Erind’s Rules as something akin to an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). However, I'm not certain if it can be considered OCD—the disorder can be about anything, but it’s usually related to germs, injury, harm, or illness.
If not OCD, we can compare the Rules to “signatures” in criminal profiling. “Signatures” are behaviors that serve the person's psychological and emotional needs. Think of rituals, taking souvenirs from the victim, etc. Criminals feel the need to fulfill their signatures even if it endangers them, and many have been caught because of their signatures. Signature is just the term used in criminal profiling, but I surmise people also have signatures in their daily life that they feel compelled to do, perhaps not to the extent of Erind.
Whatever may be the correct explanation for Erind’s Rules, they’re clearly not steeped in logic and rationality, but rather an overwhelming compulsion.
This chapter also illustrates that psychopaths have impaired threat assessment. A long-held belief is that psychopaths can't feel fear. However, more recent studies show that while psychopaths can feel fear, the part of their brain responsible for threat assessment is impaired, so they don't have the same reaction to danger as a normal person does. This is demonstrated in Erind's pov where she's not afraid of the obvious deadly threat, but more on the annoyed side.
Combining Rule #4 that she wants to fight back against the killer, and her impaired sense of danger normal in psychopaths, she decided to attack. I usually don't explain the psychological aspects of the story, leaving it to the reader, but this should make this chapter clearer.
Fuck. I ended up agreeing to the test.
Rule #7, don't do anything that would break the character of the face I have on. A huge problem was that my law student face would agree to this test, no question. If my face was something along the lines of Deen’s personality, it would've been easy to wiggle out of this. Getting trapped by my face again... urgh.
There was nothing wrong with me physically; they already cleared me. The issue here was that I fucking didn't want them to see what was going on inside my head. I hoped that stupid medicine or drug or whatever that was Myra gave to me would make my brain look normal; I didn't even know what it actually did.
Professor Deslys led me to a different room with a sci-fi-looking chair in the middle. It was a sleek white, egg-shaped pod with lines of blinking blue lights scrolling geometric patterns along its sides.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Professor Deslys said.
“Is this necessary, Professor?” I said in a feeble attempt to get out of this situation. But it was already too late, I already signed the waiver. Rule #7 was weighing down heavily on me.
“Necessary? No, it isn't necessary, my dear. A precaution. Wouldn’t you want to see your Eloyce Field Profile?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
“It will be interesting, I promise.”
Interesting? What’s up with that answer? I sat in the pod as a thought occurred to me. When the Professor discussed earlier all that gestalt unconsciousness bullshit, she cleared a table and the Melchor dude gave us two chairs. I may be wrong, but did that mean she didn’t discuss anything with Deen and Myra? If they did this test with Deen, she would've wanted to discuss this thoroughly. A large chance that she'd outright resist this.
“A moment, Ms. Erind,” Professor Deslys said. “The system was hibernating. Worth the wait, I promise you.” She was as excited as a child about to get a present.
This bitch! She actually didn’t test Deen and Myra. But why me? Did she know about my weird mind?
“You’re going to fall asleep for about five minutes, Ms. Erind. Don't fight it.”
“Wha—?” The machine whirred, a tingly feeling gently shocked me, and everything went black.
Hello there, myself. Fancy seeing you here.
I woke up with a gasp as if I stopped breathing for some time. Professor Deslys greeted me with a glass of water, which I thankfully accepted. She had a weird expression on her face.
“We’re done. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Erind.”
That was it? I just blinked. “There was nothing wrong, Professor?”
“Nothing,” she said in a disappointed tone. “You have a normal Eloyce Field. Abnormally normal is how I'd put it. It's hard to visualize the Eloyce Field because it's non-spatial, but you have a peculiarly calm and compact Field. It's good, I suppose, just not what I was expecting. To be candid, it almost appears fake given how calm it is.”
Is this the effect of Myra’s drug? “What were you expecting?” I tried hard to keep my face calm even though I was pissed at her.
“You may go now, Ms. Erind. The test results will be confidential. Melchor Institute will store a copy of the records for five years per BID guidelines. A permanent copy will be kept at the BID main repository.”
Fine, you don't want to answer me. I got up and started walking to the door, then turned back. I forgot my manners, so I bowed my head a bit, almost like a nod, and said, “Thank you, Professor.”
“It is unfortunate I couldn’t do a deep profiling of your Field, Ms. Erind. BID guidelines require higher clearance for more extensive use of this machine,” Professor said, pointing to the pod. “If we have the opportunity some other time, perhaps you would be interested in more tests.”
“I think I'm fine with my normal Field,” I said. I went out to look for Deen before the Professor get any more crazy ideas.
Deen and Myra were waiting for me at the steps outside Melchor Hall. Deen leaned by the railings of the main stairs, animatedly chatting with Melchor students; friends of Myra perhaps. I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smirk. It was funny she could easily make friends with people because she was naturally a friendly person, while I could also easily make friends because I was naturally good at approximating a face that could make friends with others. Outwardly, we were both friendly.
I slouched my shoulders forward and lowered my head, pretending I had a bad posture. I didn't. In high school, I had to learn yoga for one of my faces; a benefit that came of that was my good form. I also brushed my hair down with my fingers so a few strands would stray across my face.
Approaching them, I shuffled my feet hesitantly. Peering from the top of my fake glasses, I said in a voice loud enough to interrupt them, “Uh, excuse me…”, coupled with brushing my hair away from my face. Classic move.
“Erind! There you are,” Deen said. “Took you a while.”
“Yes, um...” I looked around at the Melchor students and adjusted my glasses.
“Oh, these are Myra’s batchmates,” Deen said.
Myra said, “Guys, this is Erind. Did I get your name correctly?"
“Uh-huh, it’s Erind.”
“Erind, that’s a cool name,” one of Myra’s friends said. They introduced themselves one by one while I maintained my shy posture. Their names went in one ear and out the other. I don't care about your names and I won't remember them.
And they warmed up to me, just like that.
Deen, with her personality, could easily socialize with them. By establishing myself as sort of her sidekick, they'd accept me by association even if my current face wasn't an outgoing charismatic persona. I was always interested in how fast I could get people to accept me, no matter the face I had on, and without them knowing I wouldn’t care if they all died in front of me.
That was the point though.
These people would never ever know what was going on inside my head. If I had my say on absolutely everything, no one would know what I was thinking.
Which was why I absolutely hated that bitch Professor Deslys for probing my mind.
I stepped forward into their circle and said, “How do we get back to Cresthorne?”
“Mr. Hurain said we could ride with the campus patrol. They're just rounding the corner, we can wait over there,” Deen said.
That was the name of the Melchor dude? Whatever. Good thing because it was too hot and too far to walk. “Let’s go then?” I said. I shyly faced the Melchor students, adjusting my glasses clumsily. “Oops, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
They assured me it was fine and that they were going to class anyway. What choice did they have? They already established friendly relations with me; they couldn’t ignore me or shoo me away, trapped by societal conventions of the circumstances to stop their conversation. It again reminded me how I was trapped by my face because of Rule #7. I clenched my fist as we walked to our ride back to Cresthorne.
“Can you move over there,” Myra said, climbing on the cart. “It'll be a bit cramped.”
“Myra, you’re coming with us?” I said.
“I’ll just get my sister’s stuff. I have a spare key for her locker at law school.”
“Oh, right.” I forgot about her dead sister. ‘Supposedly’ dead, excuse me.
Deen said, “Erind, Adrian said they're at Sanders Mall. They had a long wait at Casa Diaz and they just got a table. We can still catch up to them.”
“Yeah, that’s the place you mentioned earlier? Sure, I’ll come with you.”
The campus patrol dropped us off at Cresthorne and we went our separate ways. Deen didn’t go inside the building, heading instead to the parking lot to get her car. Myra followed me inside the building but went up to the second floor to get her sister’s belongings. I fetched my foldable bike by the racks.
I was waiting in front of Cresthorne for Deen when Myra came running.
"You guys are going to Sanders, right? Can I come with you?"
"We can ask Deen. Here she is now," I said as Deen's red SUV came rolling up to us.
"Hey, Deen," Myra said, peering inside the car's window. "Could you do me a huge favor? Can you drop me off along the way to Sanders? I live by a condo near there."
Societal convention trap once again.
Deen, of course, had no choice but to agree to it. Not that she would've refused; she was a good person after all as far as I could tell. Still. Trap scenario. All of us were in Deen’s car, me riding shotgun and Myra at the backseat with my foldable bike.
Now that I had some time to think, I reassessed my situation. Specifically, Professor Deslys. I looked at the car mirror to check the backseat. Myra was frowning, typing on her phone. I said, “Thanks for the blue medicine, Myra. Nothing bad really happened. I thought we were in trouble.”
“Huh?” Myra said. She put her phone away. “Oh yeah, don't mention it. I told you guys there was no problem. We didn’t even need to take it.”
Deen said, “It was such a relief when I passed the physical test. They didn’t even put the helmet on me.”
I narrowed my eyes. It was as I suspected. Professor Deslys singled me out to test with that egg pod thingy. Why? The only thing that came to mind was that I have an…abnormal mind.
How could she have known about it though? The only time I got tested before this was during pre-enrollment. Could she have gotten hold of my records because they were going to test us and then found something interesting in it? I had no idea what weird thing would that be to warrant her interest. She seemed pretty excited to test me. Just scientific curiosity?
Fortunately, my test didn't yield anything worrisome. Abnormally normal, she did say.
Am I in the clear then?
I guess so. I didn't even get to see my results as she promised. The next question was: did she bother me enough that I should bother her back?
Hmmm…not really.
“Where will I drop you off?” Deen said to Myra, breaking my train of thought.
“Number 21, Emerald Street. We take a left here and you’ll see the tall apartment building of Swartz.”
“Okay then. Can we pass through its parking area to get to Pearl Street on the other side?”
Myra checked her pockets. “I don’t have my pass right now. Really sorry guys, you’ll have to take a roundabout way going to Sander’s Mall from my place. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No problem at all,” Deen assured her. “We have time.” Which wasn’t true; she was just being nice.
Passing by Myra’s place added like ten minutes to our travel because of the nonsense traffic scheme of the Sanders business district. Tons of streets, some of them were one-way, or were one-way every other day, or were closed on specific days. Many people also parked along the side of the road so the traffic was heavy.
I absolutely detested this area. This was the closest place to hang out from the campus. High chances of bumping into someone I knew so I had to keep my face up. I also didn’t like being in crowds—I liked observing crowds, not wading through them.
“I hope there’s a parking spot,” Deen said after she got her card from the booth at the entrance of Sanders. Thankfully, we found an empty spot after roaming three underground parking levels of the mall.
As we walked to the elevator, the numbers on its right side started descending, going down to our level. “Nice timing,” I said.
The elevator doors opened and a person wearing baggy black overalls stood inside. A black ski mask covered his face. Deen and I stopped walking. Sensing the dangerous situation, she instinctively reached for my hand.
Are we getting robbed? I locked eyes with the guy.
He flicked both his hands to his sides and long spikes burst out of his palms, extending a couple of feet.
Barely forming any thoughts, I tightly gripped Deen’s hand and dragged her into the row of cars to our left. I crouched down, hiding behind the cars, pulling her down with me. We heard something whistle past our head. Glass broke, showering us with its pieces.
Rule #7: Don’t do anything that would break the character of the face, I reminded myself. I wasn't being heroic by taking Deen with me. The face I had on was her close friend. I couldn't push her to be the bait while I escaped. I had no fucking choice but to save her. Even in the face of danger, the Rules must be followed. This wasn't the first time Rule #7 was a detriment to me.
“Down, down, down,” I urgently repeated to Deen who was still in a state of shock. I half-crawled as I tugged her by the hand. “Quick. Come on!”
“What’s happening?”
“I have no idea but—” Something burst through the door of the car at my right side, barely missing my head.
What was this object? A spike or a stake like the ones used to kill vampires in those stories. I ducked under it and continued crawling.
The man was throwing spikes at us. Spikes! That didn’t sound normal at all. Shit, was this guy an Adumbrae? Or maybe he had bioaugments. But what kind of augments were spikes? Either way, we have to get out of here. I could hear him running towards us.
Fuck, moving while crouching was too slow. I got up and darted to the next row of cars, checking over my shoulder if Deen was following me. Thankfully, the man didn’t shoot us. I headed for a pillar with a huge number 4 painted on it the next row over.
“Where do we go?” Deen said, catching up to me.
“Column. Number 4,” I said in between huffs of air as I ran for my life. We squeezed ourselves between a pick-up truck and the column, rounded the column, and hid behind it.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
"Where do we go—."
"Shhh. Listen for his steps."
Deen peeked behind the pick-up truck. I immediately pulled her back when I saw her eyes go wide. Two black things blew past, barely missing her face. They struck the ground several feet behind us, burying themselves deep. The man was coming over to our side of the row of cars.
Go to the next row? We'll eventually run out of cars to hide behind when we reach the wall of the level.
The exit, where was it?!
Deen got up and started running for the ramp going to the upper parking level. But it was too far away.
I caught her and pulled her back. The man was running parallel to us, expecting us to go that way, and tried to head us off. Instead, I ran back to the elevator with Deen in tow. The elevator doors were still open. And there were usually stairs by the elevator; we could also take that.
The murderous bastard realized we were going back. His heavy steps became louder as he chased after us. He was still on the other side of the line of cars. And, fuck, was he a fast runner.
He threw spikes. Those didn’t have any problems punching through the cars between us. Deen screamed behind me. I heard her steps following me so she still must be fine. I bent lower while running, covering my head with my arms as if it'd help.
The spikes went high, through the car windows, and low, through the tires and the gaps between.
Run faster!
An explosion and a sharp yell.
I looked back. A spike blew through a tire and grazed Deen’s foot. She dropped to the floor from the pain, and that was enough for our assailant to get to our side of the row of cars. He jumped on a hatchback, making its alarms go off, and then dropped on our side.
Thinking fast, I saw the fire extinguisher attached to another concrete column near us. I climbed on the trunk of the brown sedan beside me, scrambled over the top, and clumsily slid down its hood. Our attacker paused for a bit, wondering which way to go.
Go for Deen! She’s right there!
And he did. I looked back and saw him walking to Deen, taking his sweet time now that he had cornered one of us.
I grabbed the fire extinguisher and tried to look for a fire alarm. Nothing. I ran back to Deen.
I'm going to kill this fucker!
Deen screamed for help. The guy in black stood in front of her. He raised an arm covered in spikes. I was running on pure bloodlust and rage like I never felt before. This wasn't only about Rule #7 anymore. This guy bothered me! He was the worst offender today! He’s going to get massacred now! Rule #4 beckoned for me.
Through the gap between two cars, I rushed with the fire extinguisher above my head, adrenaline giving me strength. I aimed the edge of the red cylinder at his neck.
Spikes erupted along his spine, piercing the fire extinguisher. White fog hissed out of the container, covering all of us. I dropped down, evading a swinging spiked arm. I found Deen’s leg. I pushed her. “Run!” I shouted. Through the haze, I could make out her form scrambling away.
I also tried to get out of the smoke cloud, running opposite the direction going to the elevator. A good call as the asshole blindly threw several spikes at the elevator. I coughed as I got out of the cloud of whatever was inside the fire extinguisher. Spikes flew everywhere.
I’m super, duper dead.
Deen better make it out of this alive and honor my memory as her best friend. A face should not be taken off even at the end of my life. I wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart or a heroic impulse. Stupidity or not, I just couldn’t break the Rules, I don’t know what to tell you.
I looked over my shoulder just as my would-be murderer burst out of the white smoke. Several spikes erupted from his body. I closed my eyes and crouched down, making myself as small as possible. Spikes struck the floor near me and the cars all around. I thought I heard Deen shouting over the orchestra of car alarms.
Did I get hit? I patted my body.
The fuck? I was completely fine!
Something blaring to my right. Bright lights of a car barreling towards me blinded me for a second. Wildly honking, tires screeching, the car swerved to avoid me. A sickening crunch and the sound of something thrown against the wall.
I rubbed my eyes. What happened? Did they hit him?
A male voice shouted, “Run! Run away! To the door!”
Door? At the far end of the parking area, there it was. An exit to the emergency stairs. My legs hurt, my lungs burned, and there was a stabbing pain at the right side of my abdomen from all the running. Still, I ran once again.
I had to.
There was shouting behind me. I didn’t dare look back.
“Stop! Don’t chase her!”
“Shit, just a bit more,” I panted. I pushed the heavy metal door with all my strength and threw myself in. Close it! “Lock, lock. How do I lock this?” I fumbled around. No lock. Where next?
I was in a stairwell. Stairs! Up or down? I leaned my body against the door to hold it closed. Which was a stupid thing to do.
Something hit the door on the other side. The sound of metal giving way…
Pain! Something hot dripped down my back. I stared down. A spike pierced through the metal door, straight through my body, bursting out of my stomach, skewering me. Blood seeped through my clothes.
I gripped the spike with both hands and tried to push it back out as I slowly stepped forward. I gritted my teeth. The spike slowly exited my body while I carefully moved away from the door.
Fighting back the urge to just lay down and wait for death, I limped up the stairs, exerting all my will to focus on getting to the next level, trying in vain to ignore the deep gnawing pain.
Damn it. This day was just the worst.
Temple
We can view Erind’s Rules as something akin to an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). However, I'm not certain if it can be considered OCD—the disorder can be about anything, but it’s usually related to germs, injury, harm, or illness.
If not OCD, we can compare the Rules to “signatures” in criminal profiling. “Signatures” are behaviors that serve the person's psychological and emotional needs. Think of rituals, taking souvenirs from the victim, etc. Criminals feel the need to fulfill their signatures even if it endangers them, and many have been caught because of their signatures. Signature is just the term used in criminal profiling, but I surmise people also have signatures in their daily life that they feel compelled to do, perhaps not to the extent of Erind.
Whatever may be the correct explanation for Erind’s Rules, they’re clearly not steeped in logic and rationality, but rather an overwhelming compulsion.
This chapter also illustrates that psychopaths have impaired threat assessment. A long-held belief is that psychopaths can't feel fear. However, more recent studies show that while psychopaths can feel fear, the part of their brain responsible for threat assessment is impaired, so they don't have the same reaction to danger as a normal person does. This is demonstrated in Erind's pov where she's not afraid of the obvious deadly threat, but more on the annoyed side.
Combining Rule #4 that she wants to fight back against the killer, and her impaired sense of danger normal in psychopaths, she decided to attack. I usually don't explain the psychological aspects of the story, leaving it to the reader, but this should make this chapter clearer.
