A soft rainfall dampened the streets traversing through Nicetown as Psychwatch installed the final SanityScans. Carl, Andrade, and Nikki rested by one of their agency's armored vans, witnessing history in the making. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the third city in the United States to reach one hundred percent surveillance under Psychwatch. Advanced therapy and mental health resources for citizens rich and poor. The criminally insane and those so far gone, they'd foamed at their mouths and spoke only in gibberish? Extinct.

Perfection.

Carl took a sip from his hot chocolate, steam exhuming from his mouth as he glanced over at the holographic screens hovering before Nikki and Andrade. On Nikki's screen, online and offline neighborhoods sprawled like disease at a cellular level, and with each SanityScan installed, the blue gnawed away at the red. On Andrade's screen, faces and names, new individuals inducted to the P3S. The ones who didn't resist, of course. A Psychwatch officer could detect the ones who'd resisted by the body bags hauled out by three or four other officers, each one usually sporting a mask, at least one of them spattered with blood that wasn't their own.

But that day wasn't like the others. Carl and his coworkers spoke more carefully. Sunlight creeped through gaps in the clouds rather than hiding behind the gray blanket in the sky, illuminating the raindrops bright yellow. There were no protesters. There were no body bags. The streets, the homes, Wayne Junction, all far too peaceful, too still, like a movie set.

Is it possible, Carl thought, that things are going too well?

Perhaps, replied Catalina. What seems off, mi amor?

Everything's so quiet today. No one's resisting the Scans' installations. Or at least no one loud and aggressive. We've gotten a few of the usual concerns, but they've been so professional. It almost feels like...

Like they've accepted what's become of them?

Yeah. That's exactly it.

Carl took another sip of his hot chocolate. He thought of Christmastime, when he and the Sandovals would travel downtown to see the lights and shops. Vibrant, serene, only to go back to work soon after Christmas Day and hear of individuals who'd taken their lives during the holidays, illustrated by the hanging of wreaths made of spark roses.

Well, Catalina continued, at least you've made a difference. No one has gotten hurt since the installations began.

"Not yet," Carl whispered.

Andrade glanced at her colleague. "Did you say something, Maslow?"

"No," Carl said. "Just someone else in here."

Andrade nodded. "Of course."

"Anything from the commissioner?"

Carl saw his fellow officer breathe sharply, as if momentarily hurting herself. "So far, nothing," she said.

Why did I even ask her that? Carl thought. We all have ThoughtControl pieces. I'd hear the commissioner, too, if she announced anything. Stupid small talk.

He gulped down the rest of his drink before marching over to a trashcan to toss it in. He extended his arms to embrace the rain, the cold little droplets rapping against his coat and his face. Even the temperature felt balanced. The hot chocolate warmed him up inside while nature cooled him on the surface. Staring up, he saw the sun in between the clouds once more. Everything too balanced. Too perfect.

Am I actually getting bored with the idea that things could finally work in our favor?

Was he even working for Psychwatch anymore? They'd finally listened to him. Was it all a trap? This was Psychwatch he was working for. Belligerent, violent, ignorant Psychwatch. There had to be a catch. There had to be a breaking point.

Or maybe he'd finally made a difference. Maybe they'd finally prioritized empathy over potency. Rather than put down the Threat Level 4's, they'd lend them a hand, welcome them to the System, to its treatments and services. Perhaps that was why Carl could see the sun behind the clouds and the pollution.

Unless...

Guys, Carl thought, am I still fronting?

Yes, mi precioso, Catalina said.

Would you tell me if someone else had taken control?

Of course!

Then why do I still feel like something's off?

Carl felt Catalina shrug her shoulders. Yo no se. Maybe ask around?

He returned to his two colleagues, the three of them staring at the road ahead as a dust cloud emerged before an apartment complex. The shrill squealing of drills pierced the air as another rundown building in the neighborhood was gifted a SanityScan. Construction workers and Psychwatch officers waved their arms through the dust, and Carl paused beside Andrade to take it all in. History in the making.

"Andrade," he said, "have either you or Nikki seen any of the kids we saw last week?"

"I didn't get a good look at them. What did they look like?"

"There were three main ones who talked to me. An albino girl, her twin brother, and a Hispanic male."

"Did you get any names?"

"Apparently, the Hispanic boy's name was Tulio."

Andrade glanced at Carl. "Apparently?" she repeated.

"I say that because the albino kids hanging around him were a pair of smart-asses who only identified themselves as Jane and John Doe. And Miss Jane Doe did all the talking for this Tulio kid, so a part of me wonders if that's even his real name. Plus, here's the other thing." Carl turned to face his colleagues, his pointer finger hovering in midair. "I've seen these kids before."

Andrade raised her brow, and Nikki lowered her phone, mimicking the same expression as her superior. "Jane and John Doe?" Andrade said.

"Yeah! They were down in the Rabbit Hole. And I'm pretty sure they were at the rally, too." Carl snapped his fingers. "I need a Psych Expressor, and I think we'll also need Slater and Holloway."

"Why them?"

"They were down in the Rabbit Hole, too. They must have seen them! Maybe I should try asking Vince, too."

Carl saw that disbelief had stricken his superior officer. Old habits die hard, he thought. But Nikki tapped on Andrade's shoulder and said, "H-H-He's right. I saw them, too."

Carl smiled and nodded at the young officer. "So, if it's possible, can you scroll through the recent additions and look for anyone named Tulio? Eighteen years old, slender build, tan skin, that stupid haircut most boys around that age have these days."

"Right," Andrade said.

"And he's part of MindLock."

"Oh, so if I can't find him here, we can always check the body bags later."

Carl sighed. "I told him and his friends I'd ensure their safety, even if they were part of MindLock."

"You're a good man, Maslow. You deserve better."

"I think we all do."

Minutes passed, and the dust cloud subsided. The three officers remained by the edge of the street, watching vehicles come and go. The future was nearly there.

"So far, nothing on anyone in this neighborhood named Tulio," said Andrade, eyes glued to the holographic screen as she swiped away page after page.

"No problem, just gotta remain vigilant," Carl said. "Nikki, when did you see the albino kids?"

Nikki shivered in place, her neck twitching. "Th-th-the rally. Through the drones."

"They weren't part of the System, were they?"

"N-N-No."

Carl nodded. "Well, they will be soon. Oh, I just remembered! One of the other kids who talked was a Hispanic girl named Luz."

"Age?" Andrade said.

"She didn't say. Tulio was eighteen, and the albino kids looked around seventeen, so I'd say she'd probably be around there, too."

"Is this her? Luz Pastrana? Says she registered to the P3S an hour ago with her dad and grandmother."

Carl took a step beside Andrade to study the screen before her. Sure enough, it was her. Straight brown hair, pale skin, green eyes, irreverent scowl.

"Yep, that's her," Carl said.

A scream echoed through the street, followed shortly by another. A couple, a man and woman, raced out of a brownstone, the woman grabbing the first Psychwatch officer she saw, shrieking in his face as if roasting alive before him. Carl and Andrade bolted towards them.

Up close, Carl discovered the two panicked citizens were a Hispanic couple with tan skin and dark brown hair. Fear buzzed in the woman's eyes like electricity, and an unbroken stream of Spanish roared from her mouth. She'd lost something. No, someone. The System had taken another one, Carl thought.

"Tell us what's wrong," he said to her. "Are you two alright?"

"Mi hijo," said the woman, her legs buckling beneath her. "Toda villa está adentro."

"Her son is back in the house," Andrade said.

"Something happened to him," said the man, clutching his wife's shoulders. "I don't know what he got involved in, but...see for yourself, officers."

Carl and Andrade raced into the brownstone, with six other officers trekking behind them. The woman screamed some more in Spanish, and Andrade translated. "Up the stairs." "His bedroom." "On the bed." With each uncovered clue, Carl felt the pace of his amble decrease. As did his hope for a day without bodies.

Blood smeared the wooden guardrails at the top of the stairs, trailing across the carpet toward the only bedroom with its door open. The spots of red on the carpet were no bigger than a dime, reminiscent of ink dripping from the tip of a pen onto a sheet of paper, but the largest mess was at the bedroom door, the knob tinged a faint crimson.

Andrade drew her Fatemaker, but Carl kept his hands and his soul clean, barging through the door unarmed. The body of a teenage boy lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, the carpet squishing with every step.

"Oh no," Carl gasped.

"Don't tell me," Andrade said. "It's—"

"Tulio."

* * *

The sun made its descent by the time the interview started. Carl sat at a metal table in an interrogation room, glancing back and forth between the SanityScan hovering in the corner and the one-way mirror serving his frustration right back at him. A day without bodies? Too idealistic an idea. Too much to ask for.

Tulio Santiago. Eighteen years old. Puerto Rican descent. Lived in Nicetown with his parents in a brownstone by Wayne Junction. Had he lived long enough to earn a profile under the Psychwatch Societal Stability System, the Scans might not have diagnosed him with any mental illness but certainly would've noted his daily marijuana usage, a revelation easily deemed irrelevant in any other case had he not exercised that habit since age eleven. He met his demise via stab wounds to his abdomen, the attack so savage that four of his ribs were broken, and traces of his small intestine spilled out as they hauled away his body.

In another room, Andrade interviewed the boy's parents. Or at least attempted to do so. Meanwhile, Carl awaited the only other individual he'd spoken to that evening. The girl marched in through the door, eyes meeting the floor as she closed the door behind her.

"Hello, Luz," Carl said. "Nice to see you again."

"I don't even know you," she muttered, taking the seat before Carl.

"I just want to say that I'm truly sorry for your loss. No one should ever go out the way he did."

"And yet you were probably looking forward to that." She flashed a hateful glare. "You wonder why I recorded you that night? Some creepy guy from Psychwatch just bossing around some random teenagers in a neighborhood he doesn't even belong in?"

Carl nodded his head. "I'm sorry for my demeanor that evening, too. I...well, I've had a lot on my plate. I'm normally a very composed and hospitable person, or so I've been told, and I really hope you can forgive me."

The girl forced out a contemptuous chuckle. "That's why you brought me here? Because you're sorry for that night? Bro, I probably would've forgotten all about you if it weren't for what happened to Tulio this morning."

Carl raised his brow. "Weren't you two close?"

"Let me guess: you're asking that because you're surprised I'm not bawling my eyes out. Probably wishing I was down on my knees begging you and the other doctor-cops to find the asshole who killed him and fuck them up."

"Well...I'm just surprised at how well you're taking this. It can be jarring seeing a teenager this composed."

"What, you think I killed him?"

"No. That's not what I said. I'm just surprised you're not showing a bit more compassion."

"You mean like you and Psychwatch?" Luz hissed. "Yeah, you guys are so compassionate, getting in kids' faces, threatening mentally ill people with guns and shit."

Who does she think she's helping, said Vince, by behaving like this?

"Luz," Carl sighed, "I understand your frustr—"

"You don't understand shit!" Luz said. "I'm not an emotional person. That's it! That's not a bad thing! And that's your problem. You, Psychwatch, you can't just leave shit alone that wants to be left alone. And then you ignore the actually fucked-up shit and wait until it hurts some people first before you do anything about it!"

"I don't speak for this agency," Carl said, voice lowering. "I'm aware of the mistakes they've made in the past, and I'm dedicating myself to changing things for the better."

"You don't speak for them?" Luz repeated.

"In a way, no. I don't."

"Then why are you even working for them, huh? They'd probably fuck you over, too, if you—"

She's wasting our time.

"Wait, Vince."

Suddenly, Carl was in darkness. No fluorescent lights on the ceiling, no one-way mirror, just a pitch-black void above, below, and on every side of him. For a split second, he saw Catalina and Loki standing five feet away, looking just as disoriented as their host.

When he returned to the light, he stood straight and tall, fists planted on the table. And Luz was curled into a fetal position in her chair, struggling to catch her breath.

"What just happened?" Carl said.

"I already told you everything!" Luz said. "I'm sorry!"

Carl looked down at his ring. The light was bright green.

Vince, I told you to wait!

Face it, Vince replied. No one here respects us.

So you want them to be afraid of us? More than they already are?

It's the next best alternative. Fear means hate. And people pay too much attention to the things they hate.

"Please," Luz whimpered, "just let me go."

Carl clicked on his ring, and a soft blue glow replaced the green. "Luz," he said, "honest to God, I don't know what just happened. I'm not sure if you noticed the ring, but another alter must've fronted."

"Then who the fuck was talking to me?"

Carl sighed. "His name was Vince. He's supposed to be a protector, but he's not the most approachable member of my system. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Luz shook her head.

"What did he do?"

"He just...talked to me. Kept talking and talking and..."

"He didn't threaten you, did he?"

"No! Nothing like that. But there was so much pain and anger in his voice."

He nodded. "As long as he didn't hurt you or threaten to hurt you. But what did you tell him?"

Luz took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. Composing herself, she said with a cracking voice, "I told him I think Tulio got killed by that white girl he's been hanging around."

Not a surprise, Carl thought. I should've done the right thing and forced them into the car with me. But then again...they could've hurt Nikki.

"How long have they known each other?" he asked.

"I don't know," Luz said. "I'd barely met the two of them earlier that day. Tulio just brought them along and said they were cool. It was obvious he had a thing for the girl, though."

"What were you all even doing out so late?"

"Just met up to have a smoke. It was Tulio's idea."

"Well, I'm sorry again for what happened to him," Carl said. "I should've just gone with my gut and taken them with me."

"I'm sorry, too." She paused. "He probably wouldn't be dead if we didn't stop you."

"Well, don't be too hard on yourself about it. Okay? I'll make this right. It's my job."

Luz nodded her head.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk with us, Luz. That'll be all for now."

Luz rose from her chair, freezing as Carl stuck his hand out. "And I promise you, Luz, I am trying to make a difference here. I hate the violence just as much as anyone else."

Reaching for the doorknob, Luz asked, "How do the other doctor-cops treat you?"

Like an expendable puppet, Vince said.

"Like their equal," Carl said, and the girl walked out of the door.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Carl sat by Andrade before Mason's desk. A Psych Expressor canvas lay flat before Carl, stenciled lines stretching and dancing across the blank space. It all came together in the end. The white hair, the ashy skin, the blood-red eyes, the smirk, the all-black clothing. In one minute and twenty-seven seconds, Crimson's likeness unveiled before them.

"So this is the girl," said Mason.

"Yes, Commissioner," said Carl. "You don't recognize her from the Rabbit Hole? Or the rally?"

"There were hundreds of bizarrely dressed individuals at both places. If I did see her, I saw a dozen other people who looked just like her."

"She also had a twin brother. Can I borrow another canvas so I can sketch a picture of him?"

Mason reached under her desk and retrieved a blank canvas, heaving it over for Carl to accept. "For your sake, Maslow, you better not be wasting my time. First, the self-driving trucks, and now this."

"I was just going with my gut, Commissioner."

"We've stopped four trucks, and every single one of them came up empty."

"Right, well," Carl said, "I'm sorry. It was just a little paranoia. Not always a bad thing."

Mason glanced over at Andrade. "And how did your interview with the Santiagos go?"

She didn't reply, instead staring into outer space.

"Andrade," Mason said.

Her colleague blinked twice, returning to earth. "Sorry. The mother, Alondra Santiago, could hardly utter a comprehensible word, let alone in English. The father, Rafael, did all the talking. He said he knew his son was hanging around rebellious kids, but he says he never saw them as anything more than teens with attitude. He never would've suspected that any of them would be any real danger to anyone or even be in real danger."

"Did he see this girl on the canvas?"

"No." Andrade studied the sketch. "He didn't describe anyone who looked like that."

"That's because Tulio had only met her that evening," Carl said. "She and her brother just weaseled their way in."

"What?"

"Yeah, Luz said she'd never seen the girl or her brother before that night."

"You sure she wasn't just covering for them?"

"I'm sure of it."

"And this is the girl's brother?" Mason said, taking the recently completed canvas, presenting a sketch of Whitey with and without his sinister mask.

"Yes, ma'am. And when I first saw him, he wore that mask just like the attackers at the rally and the Rabbit Hole."

"Did you get any names?"

"All they called themselves were Jane and John Doe."

You seem tense, said Vince. Would you like some time to yourself again?