Empathy

Some of us wore our heart on our sleeves, while others locked them away. As if there was a choice anymore. It started as an alternative to therapy; memory suppression for trauma, emotional disconnect for damaged limbic systems. Project: Heart-Locket was an amalgamation of tyranny, hope and covetous intent but we just didn’t know it yet. People wanted to forget the pain they felt and we had the answer. We had so much desire to help those in need. Veterans no longer waking up in cold sweats, survivors resuming their lives.

Oh how quickly it went from clinical to recreational. From recreational to political. Money and whispers led the charge. When the world was at its most frail we saw our savior in delusion and we thought we could absolve ourselves. This technology reached new heights while the people were at their lowest. War brought trade, travel and trust to the depths of hell. This was the last chance at redemption. The leaders of the fractured world stepped in. Some for power, some as humanitarians and some born of sheer curiosity. The idea was to clear the mind and bring the world together in the most productive, safe way possible. No vengeance, no jealousy, no greed. With it we lost love and compassion- an oversight that slowly crept in. The procedure had seemed incredibly precise, targeting specific sectors of the brain that controlled emotion such as anger and fear. The concoction and treatment was stable and safe while in our hands. We sold it. We don’t know what happened after that.

The first few years of their commercial Project: Heart Locket went incredibly well. With murder rates dropping drastically and an unprecedented economic boom, the quality of life increased steadily. A sweeping criminal reform was the first form of action. Success. Next were the homeless and the emotionally unstable. It was a vaccine for human indecency. Voluntary procedures became mandatory for political figures, then working class, then eventually even all newborns.

Things started to change a few years in. The world was split and most people weren’t people. Murder began to soar again. We still didn’t see the clouds darkening with each soul we diminished. Some of us resisted.

There was a presence of another, just like us. We could feel it. The timing had to be just right and we knew what the stakes were. The passenger car had to be separated, with a bridge up ahead leading to a heavily guarded outpost; who knows what they were planning upon arrival.

“It’s now or never!” yelled Hector, eyes hidden behind welding goggles. His expression rendered crazy from the manic grin on his face. He raised up a large, torch-like device in anticipation.

Hopefully never again I thought to myself. “Ready when you are,” I said, peaking into the window “be ready for 5, maybe 6.” I found myself grappling a makeshift flashbang and nodding at Hector.

A rush of energy and light forced my eyes back to the window. The sound of metal ripping and crashing was nearly immobilizing.

“Time to move Abby!” Hector barked while sheathing his torch. “They won’t leave us here long.” He took one hard glance at the caboose chugging into the distance as we came to a halt. I cracked the door and threw my flashbang into the car, causing a searing light and sharp sound to whip through the air. We pushed through, heading straight for the shackled man with a sack over his head. The guards were dazed and lacking the wherewithal to stop us as we charged through and grabbed the prisoner. By the time we were near the door a couple of the guards had come-to and blocked our path.

“He has a reckless heart” commented one of the guards, monotonously.

“Madness is cancer.” Confirmed the other.

One reached for their radio as the other lifted his night stick that began sparking blue at the tip. They had no intention of letting us go but we had to find answers. There was a blood-curling war cry to my right as Hector charged the guard with the radio. The bull rush sent the guard spiraling out the door and clear off the train- His body folding and unfolding down the hill to the left side of the tracks. I hadn’t noticed before that his left arm had been shoved into the gut of the remaining guard, a pommel showing itself through his clenched fist. Hector removed the crimson coated dagger.

“Hector?!” my screech ushered. “We don’t kill!” I felt the soul of the guard become an echo as his body slumped to the floor. A tear rolled down my face, born of fear and ending in relief, but it wasn’t mine. A pensive hulk loomed over the body. Hectors eyes curved from the ground up to mine.

“No, Abby, You don’t kill” Was the barely audible whisper still being thought over. “We uh,” He cleared his throat as if fighting back a feeling “we might feel him upon release but make no mistake about who they are.. who we are”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It DOES matter!” He urged. “They want to rip us apart, make us feel every cut because they feel nothing.” His voice building with passion and disgust with every passing word. “They cage us and beat us because we feel. They won’t stop until they crack the code or we all die.” He paused for a moment, coming to a certain clarity “In fact, I’m doing them a service by cutting them down. You know as well as I do the edge of death is the only thing that brings them any semblance of life and that reprieve may be short lived…” he paused for a breath “but the grey abyss they endure is much worse.” He slumped down in a necessary release.

Back in our camp we finally had time to talk to the man deemed mad. His shackles emanated that same corporate blue from the cusp of the chain and cuffs. He was younger than any empaths we had seen before but his eyes didn’t match. He felt old in his energy and worn in his scars.

After a long moment of staring and silence, Hector fractured the still air. “You got a name?”

“Poe?” He shrugged, as if not sure himself.

“How did they get you?” came from my mouth without realization.

“Get me?” Poe seemed lost. “I came to them. Wanted answers, not a cage. They pushed for answers. I.. I can do things, change people.. Rattle them?” His voice was shaky and fluctuating.

“We felt you a town over” Said an astonished Hector “like we could even feel you through them.” Hector paused for a moment before opening his mouth to speak again.

“What do you mean you ‘Rattle them’?” I interjected. We all feel them, but to change them? In what sense, what capacity? I was spellbound by this kid.

Sensing my devastation he quickly replied “I have no idea. They break.. or are fixed?? I, I see their feelings. It’s like I find it for them. They called me a ‘Key’” He fell to pieces, lost completely in his past. A heart shaped locked emanating that same blue fell from his pocket, which he quickly grabbed and returned to its home. Curious. He sobbed and apologized and shook violently till he collapsed.

Without skipping a beat Hector closed in on the kid, embracing him and assuring his safety. We quickly glanced at each other before he returned to the broken heart he held in his hands. Hector waited with the boy till he cried himself to sleep. Clouds began to cover the sky.

Hector felt it too. This could be everything, this kid with no idea. From a routine rescue to an utter gutting of our paradigm. Whether we wanted to admit it or not, we couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the future. What had been their plan with him? Were they close? We knew there would be a target on our back wherever we went. He was a beacon, and we weren’t the only ones reading the smoke signals. The clouds grew darker still, as they always do before dawn. Tonight we would rest, knowing that the morning brought rain.