I turned back to the mirror. On the other side, Dr. Venn was screaming into a radio. Orderlies ran.
“The sky is a wound. And wounds can heal.” 092124-01-10mu
That wasn’t true. My mother had told me I was brilliant. She had said, “The world needs people who see what isn’t there.” I turned back to the mirror
“Step forward,” said Dr. Venn’s voice from an unseen speaker. Orderlies ran
My room was a six-by-eight cell with a cot, a sink, and a window that looked out onto an air shaft. The walls were the color of old teeth. I sat on the cot and waited for the assessment.
“Don’t read into it,” said the intake nurse, sliding a lukewarm cup of water across the counter. Her name tag read P. Harlow . She had the flat affect of someone who had watched ten thousand people arrive with the same hollow look. “It’s just inventory.”
And I remembered. All of it. The war that wasn’t a war. The collapse that wasn’t natural. The way they built the facilities to hold everyone who could still see color in a grayscale world.