CHAPTER 2
Numbers turn through my head on a carousel. I’ve done enough math in the last five days, they’ve started to blur together into an alien language I can’t translate.
Four thousand fifty-three dollars for a hastily signed month to month sublet.
Nine flights of stairs in the walkup. Seven suitcases ferried back and forth.
Three pints of ice cream from the bodega eaten while sitting on the floor with a bent spoon while I dissociated at the wall…
add them together and what do you get? Bippty boppity bullshit.
“It’s your turn.” The woman who nudges me does so with a smile, but she looks concerned and I thank her, grateful that my legs hold me when I stand. My whole body feels numb.
I am not feeling up to this trip into the booth.
“You okay?” Olive asks, gently taking my arm.
“Actually… no, I don’t think I am. Um… I’m gonna go back to my locker room. Go ahead and skip me.”
“Sure,” she nods and taps the wall. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay, ask the bot if you do.”
I nod and make my way back through the room, not looking at anyone, not hearing the whispers.
I don’t really care what they think about my leaving.
That’s not true… if anyone’s new to the club, I hope I don’t make them apprehensive about their first time.
I’m just tired and distracted and. I look at my phone as soon as the door closes behind me.
Four missed calls and thirteen text messages to add to the total.
Maybe I should leave Brooklyn entirely. Maybe I’ll go visit Feather in California earlier than either of us expected.
I put my phone back to sleep and turn to the tub. Maybe a good soak would help.
Pulling off my shirt, I ask the bot to, “Fill the tub, please. Hot, but not… too hot. Thanks.”
“Water use has been restricted.”
I pause with my shorts half off, balancing on one leg. “What? Why?”
“Current actions triggered a safety protocol.”
An ugly thought pops into my head and I ask, “Am I being punished for not going into the booth?”
“Negative. Safety restrictions in place. Mood alteration detected.”
Standing naked next to an empty tub, I’d classify my mood as “highly irritated” but that doesn’t explain why it’s not filling.
“Clarify?”
“Participant behavior indicative of human depression.”
“And you cut off my water…” I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “I’m not going to drown myself.”
“Nevertheless, safety protocols are in place until evaluation.”
I wouldn’t say “No” to a free therapy session… or some private time with a punching bag, but I’d like to choose them, not have them chosen for me.
“I want to talk to Phantom.”
There’s a brief pause. “Appointment made. Please be at Phantom’s office in ten minutes."