North American Federation, Northwest Sector, Weyland.

The first rays of dawn scattered across the undulating horizon, rebounding through the barren city streets as they reflected off the sleek panes of glass that coated the towering skyscrapers. Everything was quiet.

Pedestrians marched through the alternating stripes of shadow and light, but they didn’t call out to each other, and they hardly spared a glance at the other passersby. Everyone seemed content to maintain the morning’s fragile peace as they hunched their shoulders and lowered their head.

They were weary. Both in body and mind. But they weren’t just weary from the daily grind, no… there was another emotion subtly guiding their behavior, and it was easy to miss if one wasn’t very familiar with it themselves.

Hands tightly gripped their briefcases and purses as their eyes shifted about. They proceeded with hurried steps, everyone giving each other a wide berth...

The people weren’t just weary—they were afraid. And Pent was too.

For these days, the chaos had only just begun to settle. But now that the omnipresent threat of disasters and disease was no longer constantly pressing down on their backs, people finally had to look forward.

It was dangerous, but at least things were simple when you only had to focus on running away. The future on the hand… Well, that required a great deal of thought—consideration—and it was murkier than ever.

The young man’s gaze shifted from the scurrying silhouettes to the obtrusive storm sirens occupying the center of the healthcare district’s plaza. He sighed. He’d yet to hear them sound once since he arrived in the city, but their faint blaring always seemed to be lingering in the back of his mind.

“Pent?” Soft knocking accompanied a muffled voice. “Are you awake?”

Eyes still trained on the window, Pent replied, “Yes, Maisie. Come in.”

At his call, a middle-aged woman dressed in navy blue scrubs cautiously entered the room. She hovered in the doorframe, her fingers fidgeting with the metallic handle.

“Dr. Jiang requests your presence in the ICU,” Maisie announced after a moment’s hesitation.

Her words chilled the ball of warmth still lingering in his stomach from the morning coffee. Pent exhaled another long and deep breath as he spun his wheelchair around to face the nurse. Sorrow gathered in his grey irises, darkening them like storm clouds.

“All right. Lead the way…” he said, softly.

Since it was Dr. Jiang calling, Pent didn’t have to think hard to guess the patient’s status. They were already gone, but even so, he still had to fulfill his obligations. His debt to the Weyland Medical Center had always felt too deep to climb out of.

Maisie, however, was oblivious to his roiling emotions. She instantly perked up after hearing his answer, and as the motor of Pent’s wheelchair whirred into motion, the woman stomped down the long hallway without a care in the world.

There was no else living in this wing of the hospital, so they traveled quickly. The nurse’s shoes squeaked sharply against the smooth tiled floor as the pungent and sterile smell of alcohol-based cleaning supplies invaded the nose.

Pent’s face wrinkled into a frown. He still couldn’t get used to it. Nearly 10 years he’d spent living within these blank white walls, but ever since his mentor had passed, each day felt longer and more miserable than the last.

Maybe he was just getting restless as he grew older. That was what the doctors told him—preaching all about hormones and whatnot… But even so, there was an undeniable clarity that age and accumulated experience brought about. With each passing day, Pent could more clearly hear the derision in their platitudes while they hid their wariness of him behind their smiles.

Acts of God weren’t the only things people feared in the new era.

Shaking his head, Pent absentmindedly traversed the wide corridors until Maisie came to an abrupt stop outside of a room. She rapped her knuckles against the door twice before entering, announcing their presence to the small family and the man draped in white waiting inside.

“Dr. Jiang, I’ve brought Pent.”

The tension in the pudgy Asian man’s brow noticeably eased as he laid his eyes upon the dark-haired boy in the outdated electric wheelchair.

“Ah, Penthus! I knew you were off-duty today, so I was worried you might still be sleeping. Though, I’m relieved to have you here. You are the most familiar with these kinds of patients, after all…”

Pent’s mouth twitched into a thin line as Dr. Jiang addressed him by his full name. This man was the only one he’d ever met who insisted on doing so aside from his Mother.

Jiang was a self-proclaimed history buff and thought the name was novel—fitting for him—but Pent hated it. Every time he heard it, that scornful woman’s face, twisted with anger and hate, appeared in his mind.

As Pent and Jiang glared at each other, the man standing by his wife and daughter in the opposite corner of the room twisted the expensive watch on his wrist as he spoke up: “Dr. Jiang... This is the young man you mentioned? The Contractor?” His question was innocent but it fell heavily on the room.

There was an intangible weight that swelled in the air and pressed down on Pent’s shoulders. He could feel the man’s expectations, and he wanted to run from them. But seeing as no one had cursed at him or chased him out of the room—even knowing what he was... Pent had no reason to turn them down. So ignoring Dr. Jiang, he wheeled forward, getting as close as he could to the bed crowded by wires and beeping machines.

The unconscious teen resting beneath the thin sheets was one Pent recognized. He was familiar with all those in the hospital who had been afflicted by this recent outbreak of the disease simply known as the Deep Sleep Syndrome. It was more commonly referred to as The Exchange, as well a select few other names, but few people used that kind of slang in the hospital.

“Yes. Yes, it is, Mr. Hardgrove.” Dr. Jiang cleared his throat and addressed the concerned parents. “As you’ve probably heard from our staff, Pent’s ability is very special… We’re lucky to have him with us,” he added offhandedly at the end.

The pretty woman at Mr. Hardgrove’s side squeezed the shoulders of the child hiding between her legs as she jumped into the conversation, “Right. The nurse told us that he can evaluate the health of any patient—even those who’ve completed the Devil’s—” Her words tumbled forth with rapid velocity until she abruptly caught herself and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Curious, the little girl craned her neck and peered up at her mother while her father frowned and folded his arms.

“I didn’t—” the woman started again.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Hardgrove,” Dr. Jiang interrupted the young wife, placating her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But you are correct... Pent here has been the key to Weyland Medical Center’s groundbreaking research into the Deep Sleep.”

Pent felt a group of meaty fingers placed on his shoulder as he stared deeply at the boy resting in bed. There was a pained grimace that distorted the young man’s handsome features.

‘I hope you can rest in peace when this is over…’ Pent’s full concentration was soon devoted to his task, but he didn’t forget to etch every wrinkle and freckle of this boy’s face into his mind.

The families and loved ones that visited would forever remain a mesh of blurry, blank faces, but long ago, Pent had resolved himself to reserve a portion of his memories for every patient. Most weren’t as lucky as he had been when fighting the disease, but he knew that each and every patient that he met fought hard before their end—even if it was only subconsciously. They deserved to be remembered for their bravery.

Dr. Jiang continued his spiel enthusiastically, ignorant of the solemn atmosphere: “We’ve learned that DSS patients enter a critical period exactly two weeks after their initial contraction of the disease. By stimulating them with medicine at crucial moments, we can enhance their chances of success at passing through their trial.”

“How come I’ve never heard of this…?” The woman’s lips curled down into a deep frown.

‘Because it’s a load of shit,’ Pent scoffed in his mind. It was true that two weeks marked a turning point in the virus’s cycle, but evidence showed that the infusion of drugs had no correlation to a patient’s success, unlike the hospital vehemently claimed.

Live or die, it was all dependent on the individual’s willpower. That was the conclusion Pent had drawn after years of bedside monitoring. For thirteen years the Deep Sleep had been plaguing humanity, and even with all the exhaustive research into the phenomenon, no progress had been made toward a vaccine or a treatment method.

That was why anger boiled in his gut as he saw Dr. Jiang still smiling and lying through his teeth to the Hardgrove family at the edge of his vision.

Weyland Medical Center did have a higher survival rate than any other hospital in the Northwest Sector, but that was only because their reputation allowed them the luxury of carefully choosing their patients. Older folks had a marginally lower rate of survival, so you wouldn't find many of them here.

Pent’s presence was just a facade. And a convenient means for doctors like Jiang to distance themselves from their responsibilities and the deaths of their patients. He longed for the days when he was wheeling frantically through the ER and standing vigil through the long hours of the night alongside surgeons...

Fiery blood coursed through Pent’s veins as his memories stimulated a rush of adrenaline, but in the next moment, it all froze, settling back into its customary deep, stagnant chill. Luckily, he was distracted by the approach of a small presence before he spiraled too far downward.

Looking to the side, Pent was greeted by a pair of large, unblinking hazel eyes.

“You can see where my brother is sick?” The girl phrased it as a question, but her tone was matter-of-fact.

Pent smiled gently. “Not exactly. What I see is a little strange…”

Tilting her head, the child waited for him to continue.

“Hmm…” Pent mused, tapping his chin as he shifted in his seat to better face the girl. “Do you have a fireplace at your house?”

“Yes, we have two actually.” She seemed a little proud when she said this, holding up two fingers for him to see.

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Pent exclaimed before his expression grew serious. “Well, what I see is like a small fireplace inside their chest. Most of the time, the flames will be green, but when people get sick or get hurt it will start changing color.”

“Really—!” The girl’s chubby cheeks flushed with excitement as she puffed out her chest. “What color am I right now!”

Pent chuckled and squinted his eyes in an exaggerated manner. As he did so, he stimulated the strange force buried deep within his body. Sluggishly, the energy answered his call, flowing into his eyes.

A faint mist suffused Pent’s pupils as the world was enveloped in a dark haze, appearing similar to it did whenever he was wearing sunglasses to hide the evidence that he was a Contractor. In this state, he saw a brilliant green blaze blossoming within the Hardgrove girl. Its color was much deeper and more vibrant than anyone else’s Lifeflame within the room.

“Looking great!” Pent smiled. “Your color is a very refreshing green—like an emerald. You must be doing a good job playing outside and eating your vegetables.”

“Ha! Did you hear that, Mom!” The girl’s brunette curls bounced as she scurried back over to her mother and tugged at the woman’s blouse while pointing to Pent. “The doctor said I must be eating a lot of veggies. I told you so!”

Mrs. Hardgrove scooped her daughter up into her arms and tweaked her little nose. “I heard him, sweetie. But he’s not a real doctor so you still have to listen to me at the dinner table.” A mix of emotions passed across the woman’s face as she glanced back at Pent. “Mark... I’m going to take Emma for a walk. I’ll come back and check-in after lunch.”

“Alright, honey.” Mark Hardgrove briefly paused his talk with Dr. Jiang to reply. He too, looked over at Pent, conflicted.

It was an all too familiar expression because there were really only two that Pent was ever faced with after revealing his ability: fascination or dread.

This man’s look fell into the latter category. His appreciation for a Contractor’s abilities ultimately couldn’t overcome his uneasiness. So even though he was likely the one who had personally requested Pent’s services, when directly faced with the supernatural, he couldn’t quite reconcile.

But this expression also demonstrated to Pent that the man was willing to exhaust all avenues for the sake of his son. And for that reason, he felt some respect for Mr. Hardgrave, even though he had a feeling he would never see eye-to-eye with this man.

In the next moment, Pent decided that he wouldn’t maintain this charade alongside Dr. Jiang. He’d long ago grown tired of it all, and today, a culmination of emotions had finally sparked some activity in his own dull grey Lifeflame.

‘I better get this over with while I still have the motivation…’ Pent ground his teeth, waiting for a few seconds after he heard the door click shut behind Mrs. Hardgrove and her daughter before he revealed the news.

“Dr. Jiang, the patient’s Lifeflame has already begun turning black.” Pent’s declaration was deliberate, mechanical almost, like he’d rehearsed this line thousands of times. And it came so abruptly that the two older men didn’t know how to react. They were stunned into silence.

Only the many monitors surrounding the bed continued to beep and pulse unabated.

“B-Black…?” Mr. Hardgrove sputtered as he recovered from his shock. His eyes flicked back and forth between Dr. Jiang and his son. “Doctor, what does he mean?”

For his part, Dr. Jiang was a formidable actor, Pent was forced to admit. The man didn’t display any hints of anger as their unspoken agreement was so unceremoniously ignored.

Jiang’s splotchy skin blanched as he feigned surprise, “Pent, are you certain? It’s only been a few hours since we ran tests last night…”

“I’m certain.” Pent drew his mouth into a thin line as he looked back at the faint black splotches of light slowly polluting the boy’s Lifeflame. His vitality spluttered and swayed like a candle braving a strong breeze. There wasn’t much time left.

“What does this mean, Dr. Jiang?” Mark Hardgrove growled, forcefully. He was a large man, and as he rose up to his full height, he loomed threateningly over the stumpy doctor.

Unbothered, Dr. Jiang sighed and rubbed his temple. When he looked back up at Mr. Hardgrove, his eyes were full of tender sincerity. “I’m afraid… it means your son won’t be waking up. I’m sorry, sir, but once Pent has declared a patient’s Lifeflame is black… no one has ever recovered.”

Crimson-faced, Mark blustered, “Y-You—! You’re so willing to simply declare my son a lost cause!” The man’s chest heaved as he balled his hands into fists. “You just said he still had a little time… treatments... I—I thought this boy you called in was supposed to help—not play God!”

Dr. Jiang held up his hands. “I understand that this is difficult to accept so suddenly, but I have to ask you to calm down. Pent has never been wrong,” he finished with certainty.

Mark began pacing, his feet carrying him to place blame; because it had to be placed somewhere. Only, in situations like these, it was difficult to find that destination. Pent had seen people lash out in all directions, sometimes scattering their frustrations wantonly across all parties involved when they grew tired of the search. The Deep Sleep was simply too… inexplicable and cruel.

Young, old, male, female, across all races… It targeted anyone and everyone. But worst of all, it left people with hope. A survival rate of almost 20% seemed utterly dismal, and yet, people couldn’t help but expect the best, even if they outwardly prepared otherwise. Deep in their hearts, they knew their loved one would be one of the lucky survivors. And even if the patient’s recovery meant they’d become a Contractor, of course, since it was their family member—they would be different from all the others who’d made a deal with the devil.

All manner of rationalizations were involved.

In this way, Pent understood Mr. Hardgrove’s plight. But he also understood this type of person well enough to know where the man’s feet would land. Just like most everyone else, they would land where it was easiest.

Stepping closer to the wheelchair, Mark pointed his finger accusingly. “You say that... but how much do you really know about this boy’s ability? For all we know, he could be the one harming them! Y-You’re—You’re simply harboring a demon!”

“Now, hold on…” Dr. Jiang began, moving closer to Mark in order to intercede if necessary, but before he could, Mark roared again.

“Jiang! I’m a business associate of your father’s… If you don’t give me a reasonable explanation today…”

For the first time, a crack appeared in Dr. Jiang’s mask. Malice burned in the depths of the doctor’s beady eyes as both men temporarily glowered at Pent.

‘Jiang really got careless this time,’ Pent thought while suppressing a smirk. ‘Bringing in someone with personal connections…’

His motivation for not giving Mr. Hardgrove any false hope wasn’t purely out of the good of his heart. He was mostly just disgusted with the games of Jiang and some of the other doctors... and disgusted with himself for going along with it for so long.

This morning, it just so happened that all the stars seemed to align, signaling a change.

Pent tightened his grip on the joystick at the end of his right armrest. His mind was already in the distance as he turned himself around and headed for the exit. Shouts and curses rang in his ears, but his heart was still like water.

Exhausting the only sliver of energy contained within his body, Pent stood up and propped open the door, wheeling himself out afterward with much difficulty. A few nurses shot him curious looks as Dr. Jiang’s frantic appeals to Mark briefly followed him out, but no one moved to stop him or to check on the situation in the room.

Everyone remained quiet, keeping their head down as Pent made his way back to his private ward.

He felt as calm as he’d ever been as the subtle vibrations produced by the wheelchair’s motor traveled through his body. It was a strange feeling.

By offending Dr. Jiang, life in the hospital would be difficult for him in the future. It’d be much harder for Pent to arrange his shifts and work where he felt his ability actually mattered...

He understood his range of activities would become more and more restricted, but instead of feeling suffocated, Pent felt liberated. Already, he was making plans for his future—for the day he broke free from this excessively white and sterile cage.

A monitor above the door to his room beeped as it blinked from red to green when it sensed his ID badge drawing close. The grey slab of steel slid open, and as it did, a familiar but long unheard voice drifted out.

“Hey, Pent… It’s been a while…”