Trials of Apprehension

"HELLPPP!" yelled another voice from the scanning room. If it wasn't for the bold primary-colored magazines, mini waterfall tumbling over plastic rocks and Sally smiling away behind the counter one might think themselves in a horror film.

"All part of the process." The curly haired receptionist reassured them with a smile.

Pale, sweat-slicked, and wracked with a level of anxiety beyond his norm, Reese Twosworth reminded himself why he was here. The Neurosigna, was a revolutionary device, touted as a cure all, one-stop-shop for solving all ailments of the mind. But despite its accolades, and his therapist's voice echoing in his head, it had the side-effect of being excruciatingly unpleasant.

As Reese eyed the twitchy patients that sat waiting in the zen-decorated room, he wondered if their anxiety had taken the same toll on their lives as it had on his. Fraught with trouble, Reese pondered the state of his life. Unemployed, friendless, stuck in the house most days, recluse, and afraid of people.

If it hadn't been at his brother's incorrigible, ever-the-positive, insistence he may have never stepped foot in this beta-tested trial. But he had to admit, even while experimental, the prospects looked irresistibly promising. PTSD, and catatonic depression, even the most severe forms of OCD all cured with simply one treatment.

Yet something felt off about the perfection of the room, the singsong voices of the staff, and of course the screams. Chiding himself for letting his thoughts get the better of him, he remarked that these were professionals he was dealing with. If anyone knew what they were doing it was them.

Alas, this was clearly a device which people needed, as Reece noticed the straggly hair woman rocking quietly beside him. THREE-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY-FOUR. THREE-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY-FIVE. Counting wasn't the disconcerting part, even as repetitive as it might be, but rather it was the caretaker, who stood sentinel at her shoulder like a warden in a prison chamber, that gave him chills. She shrunk in response to the whisper he breathed in her ear, and began murmuring hard-to-understand things. Her gaze, which scanned the tiles, soon landed on Reece's left foot. She looked up at him, snatching his hands, her knuckles turning white.

"They're going to kill us! Leave now while you still have a chance!"

Despite having the where-with-all enough to understand this woman's state of mental health was far worse than his own, he still felt his stomach turn to ice at the proclamation, as if it affirmed his own fears. Pulling his hands away, a help-woman in blue scrubs appeared in perfect timing at the side of the table, a simple smile adorning her unassuming face.

"They're ready for you now, Alice." The help-woman said, folding her arms in front of her scrubs.

Shrinking into the chair, as if she could slack-limb her way out of the situation, she was picked up and carried to the scanner room. Indeed, the screams made some of the other waitees shift uncomfortably, but they all maintained the stolid, reserved looks of those willing to do anything for a cure.

Out of the ordinary, sure. But what else was to be expected from a clinical trial aimed at eradicating mental illness. It's all part of the process Reece thought to himself. In a world where everything becomes a threat - as was the case for Reece Twosworth - it was to be expected he would feel a little fearful as a woman screams of death.

Fear was a frequenter of his mind, despite how ridiculous it may be. Remembering a time when he was not like this was difficult, but not impossible, though he did have to think far back - even before the plane crash which seemed a curtain to his previous memories. His ever-the-victim cousin, always locked up in her room, seemed to have planted the first inklings. It was as if yesterday she sat ghost faced under the covers while Reece insisted they play dungeons and dragons, his brother having failed to show, and in her eyes she conveyed a darkness Reece did not understand.

When he'd finally convinced his cousin to go outside, and they'd arrived at the quarry which planked the back end of his aunt's grand estate they'd started a game of tag. Insisting she wanted to return home, Reece tagged her it and ran off into the forest and, in a way that was totally uncharacteristic of Renora, she obliged, chasing him through the undergrowth. Exhilaration finally pumping through his melancholic cousin, she pursued, as if experiencing pause from the ailments that plagued her mind. But when they came across the sunken eyed white faced body half buried in the soil, they screamed.

Reece felt a sense of duty to console his cousin as he chased after her, but when he finally emerged at the quarry cliffs, to see Renora's arms outstretched as she fell off the rocky ledge, that duty shriveled into a fearful little monster which never went away.

One of the patients murmuring across from Reece snapped him out of the day dream. Yea, this is not for me, Reece thought as he imagined the warm embrace of his sofa at home, and made his way to the door.

"Reece." said the placid voice behind him. "They're ready for you now."

Caught between the goldilocks' zone of wanting to leave, but simultaneously not wanting to be disagreeable, he paused. He could leave now, but if left, he would never know the freedom of the unencumbered mind. A mantra his brother always touted, you've got to risk it for the biscuit, flashed through his head, and in a moment of courage - unlike him - he followed the quaint nurse down the hallway.

When he saw the now-ghosted, white, and wraith like face of the straggly haired woman walk past him, drool bubbling at her lips, that bravery evaporated. The nurse, noticed his apprehension, and smiled simply.

"Just the after-effects. They don't last long."

She pushed open a door to a stainless-steel room with a bed in the middle, a corded headpiece at its apex. A masked doctor stood waiting for him, with a few stragglers tending to different instruments . The doctor's eye's crinkled into a smile as he motioned to the bed. Feeling as if he should have ran out of the front door when he had the chance, Reece reluctantly stepped forward and laid down on the cold steel. The doctor and nurse began fastening him into the contraption, pinning his arms and legs with leather straps.

"These are just for your safety. The Neurosigna puts you in a dream state, but it cannot prevent the occasional movement as it works through its process." said the doctor, sensing his anxiety.

His protests, which were coming very close to vocalization, were stymied by the pretty nurse giving him a reassuring look. The doctor lowered the headpiece over Reece's brow, it whirring as it booted up.

"Remember, now. You may see some odd and interesting things... it's just part of the journey. Think of it as a dream. You may see representations of your past, in whatever form may come. In the dream state you won't have control of your dream-self. And you shouldn't remember anything afterwards."

Not knowing how he could turn back at this point, Reece nodded to the doctors, and the staff began booting the instruments up. Just as he felt the urge to ask another question, Reece was jolted into unconsciousness, awakening as himself in a clearing of land belted by trees. Feeling rather perplexed at the odd pixelated look of his body, the way his hands seemed to waver back and forth, he tried to move, but he couldn't.

Music played softly in the background, and his nerves were calmed slightly. All part of the process, he echoed, letting his fears wash out of him. But when the health bar and character stats appeared at the peripheries of his vision, and what he could have sworn was the grumbling of a mic being turned on his anxiety intensified. He could hear the crackle of a chip bag, and the scrunch as someone stuffed a helping in their mouth, and chewed loudly.

"Alright. Who do we have today?" asked a gawky voice, chewing more loudly than before.

Another voice responded. "Reece Twosworth. Convicted last year for Aircraft Hijacking, causing a runway spin off that killed thirty people. Currently held at Murine Warehouse for The Criminally Insane. Deemed a high risk to society."

Feeling his heart begin to pound, as if he had fallen into a deep nightmare, he screamed out to the voices but they could not hear him. Trying to wave his arms was useless, he had no control, paralyzed as a zombie player at the whims of two unknown strangers.

"Psychopath." The voice murmured, now sipping the last contents of a drink.

"Indeed. Fourteen children, and sixteen adults were killed. Forty two other people left in critical condition. And the guy walks away without as so much of a scratch on him."

The chip-eater scoffed. Jolts ran down Reece's legs as he began to move by another's control, lactic acid burning from a sprint. Hello! Can you hear me! This is awfully fast we're running here! He called out to the two voices but it was to no avail. I didn't do what you said I did, I swear! No, he couldn't have. A preposterous thought it was, that airplane had skirted out on the runway because of the faulty wheels. He didn't have anything to do with it, did he?

Despite his calls to the voices now in his head, the sprinting did not relent (which had provided little empathy, as he could feel every action by the unknown controller). After kicking in the boards of a crate, he picked up a floating cylindrical gun and fired a few practice rounds into the trees.

"Alright. Where should we start? Childhood memories?" asked the controller.

"Sounds like a good plan. He's got a whack-load of those. All twisted dark stuff really from what I can see here. Killed his cousin when he was eleven, pushed her from a quarry ledge. The girl's body wasn't found for weeks. The entry point should be... just over that ridge."

Completely out of breath, but yet unable to stop the run, or control his breathing, Reece barreled up a large hill, into the heart of a forest where he saw a baby cradled in the hollow of a large tree. There, he made his way to the infant - a little replica of baby Reece - waving pixelated hands. On the screen buttons emerged, followed by the sound of the controller's click, and then a loading screen. When it was complete he was by the quarry in his aunt's estate.

Renora! Reece called, but neither the players, nor Renora standing by the quarry ledge heard him. Renora I'm sorry!

"Get prepared for this one, it's twisted and messed up. First you have to find his brother in the woods. He buried him beneath the undergrowth, but a large rain has washed it clear. Eradicate the body, and then his cousin."

Put off by the artificial sounds of his boots on the wet grass - thmp thmp thmp thmp - he ventured into the woods, and pulled up a corrugated piece of metal. Wincing from the smell, he saw the body was his brother, dark blood painting a moon-white head.

"This is the first mental break he had. He lost control when he was eleven smacking his older brother over the head with a shovel and burying him in the woods. The neuronal patterns I'm registering here represents his resentment for his brother. Kill the zombie and they'll be eradicated."

That's not true! It's not true. My brother is alive. But despite his protests, Reece looked in horror, when the body of his brother wriggled an arm free, pulling itself from the dirt.

"Why did you do it Reece! Why did you hurt your sweet sweet brother? I never meant to make you feel jealous by winning track star of the year. I even brought you to the championship and had all my friends sit with you to make you feel welcome. Why did you do it?"

But was it coming back to him? What really happened. A memory, long ago forgotten. Suppressed? There was an inkling of a flashback - his brother winning first place, him finding the shovel at his aunt's estate as his brother visited him there, sent away, behavioral troubles, resentment.

The zombie waded its way towards him, then charged and slashed at him with a metal sliver from the corrugated steel. Reece winced at the real pain emanating from the slash. Seeing his health bar decrease, and hearing the controller click buttons frantically, he shot round after round into the zombie. Feeling a zap in his mind with each shot landed, he watched in horror as flashbacks of memories were seen and then erased: his brother and him playing in the school yard, their first fight, the jealousy Reece felt when a girlfriend was brought home.

The zombie's health was nearly drained and he had only a few recollections remaining. NO! STOP IT! But when the zombie finally fell to the ground, health at zero, and shimmered out of existence he suddenly wondered why he was standing in the middle of the forest. He could have sworn they came for his cousin, hadn't they?

Before prying deeper into the confusion, he was bolted to the quarry's ledge where, in expected fashion, his cousin's phantom and pixelated representation was fought. More and more zaps burned at his skull as memory after memory dissipated, until the bar of health underneath the ghostly apparition was empty and she disappeared.

Now with a pounding headache, Reece tried to remember why he was here, too. There was the Neurosigna, his anxiety - but it was all unclear, as his view faded to black and he was returned to the tree which held the baby. But one of the unseen presiding voices spoke again, and he was jolted back to awareness. They were destroying pieces of himself.

"Alright." said the directing voice again. "I'm getting a register on the deep-seated neuroses. It's booting up now and should emerge shortly. This is the seat of his psychosis. Just make sure not to let the baby in the tree get any damage, and we should be good. That's his sense of self; his identity."

Letting out a large belch, the controller agreed, as Reece waited unmoving by the tree.

"Yep, here it comes... it's emerging in the form of a... a dragon. Shouldn't take too much effort."

When the dragon emerged flapping 30-foot wings, Reece involuntarily shot at it and felt the zings of more pieces of himself, evaporating: first time riding a bike, a dream of his first kiss, the dentist drilling into his tooth - other odd and disjointed things - buying avocados at fifteen, his summer grass cutting job, an old tin can at the side of the road, the color red.

When the dragon fell, Sean felt woozy. He could recollect why he was there, feel the horror of two unseen people controlling his every move, but he could not remember much of his life. Just echoes and wisps of deja vu. He was relieved, at least, to know that this nightmare would finally be over.

"Oh, wait hang on." remarked the directing voice. "I'm still registering background neurotic signatures on the scanner. Seems as though we didn't get it all."

"What's that? the fifth one today?"

"Five for five. Not a great track record."

The controller sighed. "Well if that's the way it's got to be, then..."

Sean's lump grew in his throat until it was icy glass, and he watched in horror as his mechanically controlled frame, ran to the tree and pulled out the gun. Nonononono! He screamed, but they couldn't hear him. Exhausted, and stifled by fear, he shot rounds at the pixelated figure until it too was gone.

---

As the staff removed the corded cap from Reese Twosworth's head, he stood up, drooling from the mouth. "This way." guided the nurse, as she shot a scolding look to the two men sitting at the control panels, then led Reece back out of the room.

A large, bearded, man with a chip bag and diet coke in hand, chortled loudly.

"Geoff, you'll never believe this. We forgot to turn the mic off. He heard us the whole time."

The skinny framed and bespectacled man gave a brief smile, and they watched as the next patient was brought in to receive her treatment.