own, he’d be caught in a brutal marathon. If he chose to return to the Solution and give himself up, he was certain operatives would pick his brain for visual and auditory information, and then what would happen? He’d heard stories. Once he had watched a program about different cultures predicting the end of the world, and Randal predicted the end of his world might come either way he chose to go. Or, maybe, the Solution would embrace him if he came back. They were fair. They saved the world from the Cash Disease, after all.
Randal’s mind formed a blank as he attempted to figure out a solid course of action. He hoped, rather, awaited the decision to be made for him, that his thought process would be placed down a selected path and wallah , problems solved. Nothing came to him. No revelation. He saw himself as subhuman, a busted and indecisive machine. His body began shutting down in hopes of more sleep (because maybe that’s all he needed), and he distantly wondered if he had been drugged.
Chapter Six
Slippery Minds
“ You’ve heard me say that the foundation of depression is certainly happiness,” Dr. Reverence convinced through a monitor, “Yes? Of course you have.”
Elizabeth was pinioned in the chair. She gave up on freeing her body from the nylon black straps hours ago. Through sweat she eyed the wires and circuitry stuck in her arms and temple and watched the psychotherapist explicate prim and properly, “Yet with happiness depression is a falsified ingredient. In a life void of Solution refinement you would not know jubilance, therefore the remaining emotions are imposters, and there is only one proven source from which your mentality sustains. It’s quite crucial, Elizabeth, that the Solution remains the sustenance from which an unadulterated wellbeing thrives. You know this in your being.”
Rising from inaudibility, a single eerie tune began playing until it pooled into music—only Elizabeth could soon feel the notes inside her body rather than hear them, as if the music were possessing her body.
T he doctor’s sentences sank in, Elizabeth suddenly visualized a profound, altered state of mind approaching; to the point of where Dr. Reverence’s session might resonate deep, far, and wide. Elizabeth realized psychotronic trance methods could be employed here (she had read about these techniques being used before), due to her perception now turning into an ambrosial haze spreading across her mind, dripping an all new and interesting mentality. Her fatigue dissipated and she was rejuvenated with a new sense of life.
Only one factor kept Elizabeth from completely submitting to Dr. Reverence at that point: betrayal. Life is a liar, she thought. Betrayal, down to the marrow and genetic makeup—everything was a sham. I despise myself, she thought. Everyone is dead.
It was as if Dr. Reverence could read Elizabeth, “I assure you, Ms. Elizabeth, you are not being betrayed. You are in receipt of elucidation. You’ve suffered delusions. Allusions were shaped by the ones you confided in and loved, whom have ended up nothing more than mere trickeries decaying your conscience, yes? That crime happens quite often in today’s world. Your mother’s condition? She drained you of your psychological vigor and attempted to mentally suffocate a power of yours which you never knew you even had. Do you agree? What kind of mother is that? Let’s talk about your mother, and the many ways she never loved you.”
No matter how much she tried, Elizabeth couldn’t recall any fond memories to oppose Dr. Reverence’s conclusion, nor could she conjure any lies. Elizabeth knew there had to be something good about her mother, but no matter how far she reached it seemed there was nothing to grasp. Her thoughts were being invaded and she saw her mother as no more than a stealing, testing, lying bitch, and Elizabeth couldn’t count how many days her mother had manipulated her. Wasting all that time
Randal’s mind formed a blank as he attempted to figure out a solid course of action. He hoped, rather, awaited the decision to be made for him, that his thought process would be placed down a selected path and wallah , problems solved. Nothing came to him. No revelation. He saw himself as subhuman, a busted and indecisive machine. His body began shutting down in hopes of more sleep (because maybe that’s all he needed), and he distantly wondered if he had been drugged.
Chapter Six
Slippery Minds
“ You’ve heard me say that the foundation of depression is certainly happiness,” Dr. Reverence convinced through a monitor, “Yes? Of course you have.”
Elizabeth was pinioned in the chair. She gave up on freeing her body from the nylon black straps hours ago. Through sweat she eyed the wires and circuitry stuck in her arms and temple and watched the psychotherapist explicate prim and properly, “Yet with happiness depression is a falsified ingredient. In a life void of Solution refinement you would not know jubilance, therefore the remaining emotions are imposters, and there is only one proven source from which your mentality sustains. It’s quite crucial, Elizabeth, that the Solution remains the sustenance from which an unadulterated wellbeing thrives. You know this in your being.”
Rising from inaudibility, a single eerie tune began playing until it pooled into music—only Elizabeth could soon feel the notes inside her body rather than hear them, as if the music were possessing her body.
T he doctor’s sentences sank in, Elizabeth suddenly visualized a profound, altered state of mind approaching; to the point of where Dr. Reverence’s session might resonate deep, far, and wide. Elizabeth realized psychotronic trance methods could be employed here (she had read about these techniques being used before), due to her perception now turning into an ambrosial haze spreading across her mind, dripping an all new and interesting mentality. Her fatigue dissipated and she was rejuvenated with a new sense of life.
Only one factor kept Elizabeth from completely submitting to Dr. Reverence at that point: betrayal. Life is a liar, she thought. Betrayal, down to the marrow and genetic makeup—everything was a sham. I despise myself, she thought. Everyone is dead.
It was as if Dr. Reverence could read Elizabeth, “I assure you, Ms. Elizabeth, you are not being betrayed. You are in receipt of elucidation. You’ve suffered delusions. Allusions were shaped by the ones you confided in and loved, whom have ended up nothing more than mere trickeries decaying your conscience, yes? That crime happens quite often in today’s world. Your mother’s condition? She drained you of your psychological vigor and attempted to mentally suffocate a power of yours which you never knew you even had. Do you agree? What kind of mother is that? Let’s talk about your mother, and the many ways she never loved you.”
No matter how much she tried, Elizabeth couldn’t recall any fond memories to oppose Dr. Reverence’s conclusion, nor could she conjure any lies. Elizabeth knew there had to be something good about her mother, but no matter how far she reached it seemed there was nothing to grasp. Her thoughts were being invaded and she saw her mother as no more than a stealing, testing, lying bitch, and Elizabeth couldn’t count how many days her mother had manipulated her. Wasting all that time
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