And in an infinite regress
Tell me why is the pain of birth
Lighter borne than the pain of death?
When Captain Windmark strapped September down, he simply closed his eyes as if drifting off into a peaceful sleep. He felt a faint discomfort from how roughly Windmark handled him, but no fear. He wanted to thank his superior for what he was about to do, but saw that if he did, the Captain would not go through with it.
"Is there anything more you have to say for yourself, September?" Windmark asked with a tilt of his head.
September drew in a calm breath. "I have acted in the interest of all living things, rather than our kind alone. I believed they deserved a chance against us, as all living things are entitled to defend themselves."
Windmark drew his knife. "You will cease to belong to our kind in less than sixty seconds. Prepare yourself, September." There was a trace of a sadistic growl behind his slow, hushed monotone – a sign of his own vestigial emotionality. September nodded. His willingness to cooperate with his punishment must have agitated Windmark somehow. He felt the knife press into the back of his neck. He felt the warmth of his own blood, but no pain, at least not until he saw Windmark holding his device out of the corner of his eye. He then felt a dull, concentrated ache spread through his entire body. It rapidly grew sharper, causing him to convulse and scream out in a manner he had never done before, at least as far as he could remember. His hands writhed and he moved to clutch his head, but his restraints prevented him. Windmark gave him a faint look of disgust, snapped the device in half between his fingers, and then delivered a blow to the side of September's head. The pain jarred him and added on to what he was already experiencing, but it did not last long. Everything went dark. While he was unconscious, two other Observers patched him up and took him to a laboratory. They kept him heavily sedated as they ran various tests and documented his brain functioning.
"We can release him. There is nothing more to be found at this point in time. We will check again at a later time," one said.
They carried him away and left him in a place close to where the others took him from.
September woke up on an old bench in a park. His return to consciousness was anything but gradual. Rather, it seized him like an electrical charge. The sun burned his eyes and the air chilled his flesh. The sounds of engines rattled in his brain and all he could do was clutch his face and scream through gritted teeth. When he wrapped his hands around his temples, he noticed one side of his head was extremely sore. This only aggravated his nerves further, and he thrashed against the bench in desperation. It made no sense to try and alleviate pain with more pain, but his body compelled him to regardless. He flailed until he had no more energy to do so. He went limp and panted heavily. He felt a raw sensation throughout his nerves and a burning sensation in his face. He knew he needed to find a safe place to stay. Anybody could claim him as an easy target if they saw him in his current state, and he was certain the other Observers would watch him as he transitioned into an ordinary human, documenting every detail. He felt the need to avoid them to the best of his ability. Still, he could not bring himself to move, or even form the words with which to call out for help. He squeezed his eyes shut as more waves of sensation washed over his body and mind; some hot and bright, some cold and dark. Oddly, these opposing sensations were admixed at times. He identified them as "urgency" and "despair."
About an hour passed by, and he felt the warmth of somebody's hand on top of his own. "Hey," a voice spoke. He identified the voice as female – petulant, neither particularly young nor old. He didn't open his eyes fully as sight was still too much for him to process, so he only had a blurry image of her. "What happened to you? You're awfully well-dressed for a bum." She sounded confused.
September drew in a ragged breath and pulled his limbs close to his body. He forced himself to open his eyes more to make brief eye contact with the woman. "I do not know," he lied.
"Where's your hair? You on chemo?" She asked.
He paused. "…It is a genetic anomaly." He thought it interesting how easy lying came to him.
"Uh-huh. You're injured," she said. "Looks like there's a good chance you could have a concussion."
"How do you know?"
"Look at your head."
September groaned and opened his eyes again. The woman pulled a compact mirror from her coat pocket and opened it up for him to look into. He saw a large, dark bruise covering much of the left side of his head, all the more visible for his pallor and hairlessness. He nodded in acknowledgement.
"So, how did that happen?" The woman asked.
He paused. "I told you, I do not know."
The woman gave him a disgruntled look and shook her head. "Well… is there anywhere for you to go? A hospital, perhaps? I mean, that'd be my first choice."
He squinted and attempted to recall the last human-run place where he received attention for an injury. "The laboratory," he said.
"Which laboratory? There are thousands of laboratories in the world." The woman grew frustrated and put a hand on her hip.
He paused. "The one in the Kresge building," he blurted out. He realized he wasn't sure if he was in or even anywhere near Boston and lowered his gaze.
"At Harvard?"
A sensation of warmth and lightness flickered through him, and he nodded.
The woman smirked. "Kresge building it is, then. Come on."
"Do you know your way there?"
"I can find it," she replied.
"Good." September forced himself onto his feet and followed the woman to her car.
"Get in the back seat," she said. "It's probably best if you lie down. You look exhausted."
September nodded and did as she suggested. The motion of the car against the bumpy road made him slightly queasy, but deep breathing alleviated this sensation.
The woman could hear him. "You all right back there?"
"I am sorry," he muttered. "Everything, every sensation is so over-powering."
"You got a brain condition or something? Autism or somethin' like that?" she asked.
"None that I know of."
"Oh, well. Ask your laboratory people about it. If they're even in there…" She stopped the car. "Speakin' of which, we're here. You need any help?"
September rose into a sitting position and paused. "No, thank you." He opened the door and shuffled towards the building, shielding his eyes from the sun.
He knocked at the door of Dr. Bishop's lab and held his breath. Walter opened the door with a surprised look on his face. He stared for a moment. "September? Since when do you knock on doors? Where have you been? You came to warn me about the other Observers, and we began to-"
September went pale and he fell to his knees with a shudder. Walter rushed to steady him and pull him back onto his feet. "What's happened to you?" He asked, lowering his voice. "You're injured again. Taken a blow to the head, I see. You can't seem to stay out of trouble, can you?"
"Look at the back of my neck," September muttered.
Walter did as he was told, and saw a freshly-sutured surgical wound. "A-ha. Have you undergone some type of surgery as well?"
"The others and I… Our abilities are powered by technology. My device has been removed." He swallowed. "My abilities are gone, and in their place, I feel pain, confusion…and many other things I cannot accurately describe, as I do not know which words you ascribe to each sensation. I feel… overwhelmed." Though he tried to remain calm, his voice shook as he spoke.
Walter nodded. "The technology that made you an Observer must have dulled particular aspects of your nervous system, and in its absence, you are experiencing these aspects in full force. Exponentially more than what we ordinary humans experience! How fascinating…"
"This is hardly fascinating for me." September felt a burning sensation in his eyes, accompanied by constriction in his chest.
Walter felt a pang of guilt. He realized the other man must have been punished for trying to help him, and felt it was the least he could do to offer him some assistance. "Let me check your vitals," Walter said. He led September to the examination table and laid him down. He noticed a look of anxiety cross the former Observer's face. "I understand you may be uncomfortable with medical procedures at the moment… Such discomfort is something I am no stranger to myself! But, I assure you, I mean you no harm." He placed a hand on September's shoulder and set to examining him.
"You've got quite the knot on your head, but there doesn't appear to be any damage to your brain. Your body temperature and blood pressure are elevated," Walter explained once he was done with his examination. "Nothing that won't subside with a few days of rest, perhaps some sedatives. Fortunately, I have no shortage of those. However, your blood sugar is very low. How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"
September merely grimaced at the thought of eating, attuning to a tight, gnawing sensation in his stomach. He turned away.
"Quite some time, then, I presume!" Walter chuckled. "You need to eat something."
"I do not feel that I can."
"That is a problem, then, isn't it? Perhaps something to drink first. Peppermint tea?" Walter suggested.
"Pepper…mint?" He'd heard the name before, but had never tried anything containing it.
"A common herb containing menthol. It has quite the opposite effect of the capsaicin-rich substances that your kind are so accustomed to consuming. Which is to say, it cools your insides down, rather than warming them up!" Walter explained. "Or, at least, it feels that way. The tricks chemicals can play on us," he mused.
September nodded. "I will try it."
Walter immediately fixed him a mug of the tisane, gave it a few minutes to cool, and handed it to him. September sat up and took a sip, and his eyes went wide. "It is warm, and yet it feels like ice," he said. He savored the taste of it – there was sharpness and sweetness to it at once. Before, he had only been able to taste spice, salt, and the metallic flavor of blood. The flavor and warmth of the liquid were the first new sensations he found pleasant. "Thank you, Dr. Bishop." He took a few more sips and then set it down on a nearby table.
"You are most welcome," Walter answered as he prepared a slice of toast for September. He spread a small amount of butter on it and placed it on a plate which he then set in September's lap. "Here. At least try to eat a small amount."
September picked up the toast and bit into it. It was not flavorful like the peppermint, but the soft, yet grainy texture was enjoyable enough. More importantly, it went down easily and gave him enough nourishment that he no longer felt quite as disoriented as he did before.
"Any better?" Walter asked.
"Yes, somewhat. My head still hurts, and my muscles, they feel… they feel as though they are burning."
Walter sighed. "It is to be expected."
"How long do you believe this will last? Before I adjust to being like you and the others?"
"Well, according to what I know of the regeneration of the nervous system, at least after being affected by long-term chemical use, about thirty days. Hah! Thirty days hath September." He paused. "I'm joking with you, I have no idea. Your issue is the result of the removal of a device that I don't even know the structure or elemental make-up of."
"Is there someplace I can stay?" September asked. "I do not wish to impose, but the others appear to have left me to my own devices."
"You may stay with me. Peter has moved in with Olivia, so I have space to spare," Walter said.
"Thank you," September said, finishing his toast and tea. "We need to resume our work," he said after a long pause. "That is why I have come back here. The most important part…" He leaned forward and began to tense up. His eyes were wide and delirious, which Walter noticed immediately.
Walter made stern eye contact with September and placed his hands on both of his shoulders. "It can wait until you are stable. Rest. Do not push yourself."
September relaxed, gave a reluctant nod, then laid back down on to the examination table and curled up. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep when he felt something cold on his head. He opened his eyes to see Walter placing an ice pack over the bruised area, and promptly closed them again. His mind raced with thoughts, but he tried his best to ignore them for the sake of regaining his strength.