"Welcome back, Officer Margo Sandoval," greeted the serene but monotonous voice of an AI as Margo took a seat. "I'm your personal automated psychiatrist assigned to you by Commissioner Mason for a fast and efficient psychological evaluation."

"Why couldn't she talk to me herself?" Margo snapped, not recognizing the hostility in her voice.

"Due to the recent tragedy that struck at the Philadelphia Mental Health Rally last week, our organization is short-staffed at the moment, as many of our employees are or will be undergoing psychological therapy such as this. However, since the general population disapproves of AI-conducted therapy despite its speed and efficiency, all Psychwatch personnel will be required to partake in these sessions to ensure a faster recovery before returning to work, where they will instead lead others to recovery as Psychwatch intended."

"So we have to take the least popular, least effective service?"

"According to Psychwatch statistics, AI-conducted therapy is just as effective as one-on-one therapy between two persons. The primary cause behind client dissatisfaction regarding AI-conducted therapy is, much like any other form of psychotherapy, hesitation to open up and fully discuss their concerns, specifically with an automated response program rather than a flesh-and-blood, licensed professional. Once one learns to overcome the AI's perceived lack of empathy and understands it to be nothing more than a false impression, the therapy will prove to have just as much positive influence as one would expect from any other. Do you understand, Officer Sandoval?"

Margo suddenly felt even more self-aware. Being reminded not to think of this AI as a robotic shrink only cemented her belief that this was nothing more than a robotic shrink. But it was her only way back into the building after all. "Yes, ma'am," she responded.

"Wonderful," the AI replied. "Let's get started. Allow me to adjust the lights and colors in the room."

The room around Margo dulled from plain white to a light blue haze. No windows in sight. A small chamber known as a SafeSpace that could augment one's vision of reality to something far more comforting. She couldn't look away from the SanityScan protruding out of the corner of the wall, staring into her mind and soul.

"Before we begin," the AI said, "it is required that I let you know that this SanityScan has access to every one of your thoughts. Any memory you recall during this discussion will be accessed and reviewed by the Psychwatch Societal Stability System in order to run a complete and accurate psychological evaluation. However, once the session is over, it is entirely optional for you to hear a full summary of the evaluation or simply your Threat Level and a few recommendations to improve your mental health. Any questions?"

"Is this like other sessions," Margo proceeded in a tired tone of voice, "where my memories will only be accessible once I've brought them up in conversation? Or will the Scan just dive into my brain and open up whatever door it wants?"

The room went silent for a moment. But following a beep, the AI continued. "You sound just like Officer Holloway during his previous sessions," it said. "And we will only access your full memories once key details referring to said memories have been described to me. Any additional questions?"

"Nope."

"Then let's begin."

Another series of electronic sounds emanated throughout the room. Margo expected the panels in the walls to shift and flip around like a magician's cards. But instead, the blue lights around the room blinked twice and the SanityScan clicked in place, its lens zooming in closer on her. She no longer felt like a patient. More like something lower.

"First question," the AI declared. "You were on patrol undercover during the Mental Health Rally last week, correct?"

"Correct."

"Were you critically injured in any way during the ensuing incident?"

"Not much. Just a slash across my shoulder, thighs, and arm. I'll be getting the stitches out later today."

"Well, we're glad to hear your otherwise safe and sound." Another beep. "What have you been doing in the days preceding this one?"

"Volunteering at Skinner High School with my mother, taking care of people injured in the Red Riot."

"Wonderful! How was the experience?"

Margo couldn't decide what to say first, whether to laud the things she accomplished during her breather or bring attention to the mistakes she made. She had a lot of ground to cover and all the time in the world. Where to begin? she thought.

She didn't need to say a word. The SanityScan worked its magic, and everything that happened in the last week was now in the hands of an artificial intelligence. Margo could hear the Scan beeping excitedly like sound effects in a video game as it studied her memories and worked on constructing an opinion on this flawed human being sitting before it.

"You seem to have very uneven relationships," the AI declared. "Both professional and personal. You've gotten in arguments with Commissioner Mason, your colleague Holden Sanger, and your own mother. You've developed a bad habit of breaking out in emotional outbursts, undoubtedly a result of stress and high levels of self-doubt. Would you like to comment on that?"

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? This is a safe, understanding environment. Your opinions and values are held to the highest regard alongside your physical and mental health."

"Nothing weird. I just feel like I've let a lot of people down."

The AI paused, trying to figure out which poor shmuck Margo had let down this time. "I'm sorry if this comes off as rude, but there are quite a few people you believe you've let down. Which one of these individuals evokes the most guilt when you think of them?"

Margo shrugged. "Just pick a random one."

The lights in the room turned red. "Officer Sandoval," the AI growled, its voice rippling with static, "please take this session seriously. Even if you had no choice but to attend this meeting, it is still for your self-benefit. Now please reply to my previous question in a mature, understanding manner."

"Alright, alright," Margo groaned, but even she regretted uttering those words and stumbling down to the same level as a child. As the lights returned to a soft blue, she realized the Scans could undoubtedly sense her humiliation. Something they could very easily take advantage of if they wanted.

The Scan made its usual series of unintelligible beeps, the sounds sending a shiver down Margo's spine as if they were a demonic language. "You've been thinking a lot about the arrival of your sister," the AI continued. "Why is that?"

"I haven't seen her in years," she replied. "My mom refuses to even talk about her. I don't even know where she went or why she left."

"What is her name?"

"Ellie Sandoval."

"How old is she?"

"I don't really remember. I'd say probably four or five years older than me."

"We will run a search through Psychwatch's database. If she is currently living in a city within our range, we will let you know as soon as we find her, which won't take long at all. If she is beyond its range, we can help you locate her through—"

"It's alright. She's coming to visit sometime next week."

Another series of beeps. "You appear to have weak long-term memory regarding your sister and your missing father. This could be a sign of repression."

Margo grimaced. "What could I possibly be repressing?"

"While the concept of memory repression is still widely debated among psychologists even to this day, it is still possible for a person to dissociate from traumatic events, modifying or even erasing a distressful memory entirely. What was the last memory you have of your father and sister?"

Already uncomfortable since the beginning of the session, Margo felt like she was descending down a deep hole she herself was digging. "What does my father have to do with this?" she asked.

"While many of your concerns at the moment include your job and self-perception, your family is your primary one. You don't feel close to any of them. Let's start with the reasons behind your distances from your father and sister and why you can hardly recall a thing about them. What's your last memory of them?"

Margo remembered that moment exactly. The car crash. She was fifteen years old. Side collision in the middle of an intersection. Drunk driver. She was bruised from her head down to her stomach and several cuts stretched across her face. Her mother's nose was broken, and much like her daughter, she received a black eye. The sun was setting, and she saw her father crawling out of the car with a broken leg. She couldn't see his face, but she watched him leave behind a trail of blood as it seeped down the side of his head and his leg. Then suddenly everything went dark, and when the light came back, she had awoken in a hospital room, Carl and her bandaged mother standing beside her bed.

But Ellie wasn't there.

"Your father looks familiar," the AI said. "What is his name?"

"Theodore Sandoval. Everyone called him Ted."

A faster sequence of beeps emanated out of the SanityScan. Margo knew it was trying hard to find her missing father, only to fail like every other time.

"There is no one by that name registered to the Psychwatch Societal Stability System," the AI declared, a statement that no longer fazed Margo nor did it ever.

"We lived in the Psycho Slums for a while," Margo spoke sullenly. "If it weren't for that car crash, we might've never been registered. Everyone except him anyway. And my sister."

"Where was your sister during the accident?"

"Parents probably kicked her out a long time ago. She only barely started talking to me again last year over the phone. I didn't even believe she was my sister at first. It took a lot of convincing."

"How did she convince you?"

"She told me things that no one other than my mother would've known about. Things I did as a kid, what high school I went to, places I've traveled to, even weird dreams I had. Trust me, I would've known if she was just a pretender. I'm a police officer after all."

"Of course. Better than the police, in fact. You're a Psychwatch officer. An agency defined not by brutal enforcement, but through sympathy and mercy." The AI paused for a moment. "Do you have any other memories of your father and sister?"

Margo's mind went blank. Aside from several phone calls with Ellie, her childhood was just a gray blur. Is this what Mason says I'm hiding from myself? Repressed memories?

"Noted," the AI declared. Another series of beeps, followed by a flash of small red lights. Margo realized her memories of the home invasion were being reviewed like surveillance footage. "That night laid the foundation for what is now growing mistrust in your colleagues, especially Commissioner Mason. Would you like for me to send a copy of your memory of that night to her so she can see the events through your own eyes?"

"Yes please."

"Besides the memory itself, the file will also contain a copy of two psychological evaluations, one from that evening and the new one you will receive after this session. Would you still like to send it?"

"Please."

More red lights flashed again. "You need to learn to control your emotions, Sandoval," the AI warned. "It's not healthy to have such hostile relations with your colleagues, especially with your superiors."

"I'll feel better once Mason finally understands not only what I've been through, but what everyone else has been through. And once she starts treating Carl like a fellow officer!"

"Lower your voice please," the AI barked, its voice rippling with static. "I'm sure you've uttered lines like this a thousand times before, but you're the only one who can improve yourself. If you can't learn to put aside whatever petty contempt you hold for your colleagues, you'll only make things worse for yourself. And if people start hurting because of it, you will be held responsible. Do you understand?"

"How is it still petty? You just looked at my—"

Red light engulfed the room once more. "Do you understand?" it barked again.

Margo coiled up her fists. Her breathing grew fast. Same with her heartbeat. The room only grew darker, and everything in her eyes was as thick as blood. "Yes," she hissed.

"Louder please."

"Yes...Commissioner."

The silence that followed put a smirk on Margo's face. She sat up straighter. Her head was tilted down, but she could not take her eyes off the Scan knowing Mason was the AI all along.

"Don't get cocky, Sandoval," Mason replied, her voice no longer distorted. "I'll have you know, the only reason I personally volunteered to run your evaluation today is because I believe in you. It's rare I find someone with so much potential in this organization. You remind me so much of our co-founder Cyrus Lynch and our friend Officer Maslow."

Margo's smirk vanished. "You mean your puppet Officer Maslow," she growled. "Carl is my friend. And I'd like to know what you did to him."

"We just ran a quick interrogation at his apartment. He's fine. And in infinitely better shape than Royce and Holloway. And if it makes you feel better, he's no longer a suspect and will return to work by the end of next week."

"Where the hell is he now then?"

"Attending therapy. His alters didn't respond to the interrogation as well as he did."

Margo would've leaped out of the chair if she had the chance. Grabbed the chair and slam it into the Scan until it broke free from the wall. Break through the walls and—

"You're lucky those are just impulsive thoughts," Mason said, and Margo's sudden burst of confidence fizzled out like a flame. "Act on those thoughts, and you'll be in deep shit. And on that note, your evaluation is over."

"That's it?" Margo snapped with her arms extended.

"Admittedly, this evaluation was more of an excuse to review your memories of the past week as well as determining whether or not you require additional therapy. Which reminds me: why didn't you attend any therapy sessions?"

"The community service was the therapy. Haven't been sleeping thanks to my overwhelming self-doubt and desire for redemption, so working at the high school was very cathartic."

Several beeps emanated from the Scan along with a ding. "Well you're lucky your only a Threat Level 2," Mason muttered. "And after looking at your memories, I'd say your evaluation has some very surprising results. Would you like to hear them?"

Margo didn't think twice about it. "No thank you."

Another break of silence followed. Margo assumed Mason wasn't expecting that answer from her. And her next responses only supported that guess. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I just want to get back to work, Mason."

"This might get in the way of your work, Sandoval. Remember what I said about hiding secr—"

"Doesn't matter to me. What's important to me right now is that I show you this new piece of evidence Holden and I acquired over the last few days."

Mason went quiet once more. Margo slumped back into her seat, exhaling with relief. She glanced down at the plastic bag lying beside her feet, and she wondered what responses her colleagues would have to the dirty rabbit mask inside.

"Well," Mason continued, "to sum up your evaluation: you're a Threat Level 2 due to a newly developed habit of emotional outbursts and what can be best described as blocks in your rational thought. Symptoms include aggression, insomnia, and paranoid thinking. We have medication for that if you'd like."

"I'll get over it, Mason," Margo declared. "Just let me do something right by seeing what I've brought you today."

"As you wish, Sandoval. But here's a tip: Psychwatch officers have free access to our therapeutic services. Remember that."

The room became pitch-black. And Margo had the biggest smile on her face, one she hadn't sported in a long time.