~I~

Carlos

Bleeding- n. the leakage of life blood from the body

Inflammation- n. the gathering of excessive blood in an area

Pain- an uncomfortable feeling caused by either bleeding or inflammation- can be further divided as:

1) Physical pain- n. a feeling of literal bodily harm, past, current or imminent- most recognized, expressed in nerve impulses along specially designed receptors, with drugs available that can often temper if not heal

2) Mental pain- n. a feeling of exhaustion, of devoting too much time (life) to one thing or another, or of losing part of oneself to something- less common, but considered a sign of doing something very good, often suggested treatment is rest of some kind

3) Emotional pain- n. a feeling of being bled out, losing the pleasant and maybe all feeling, of being unworthy or used up- often the most avoided, though very common indeed- expressed as loneliness, depression, anger, lacking self-worth, sleeplessness, anxiety and various other emotions and behaviors

There are no long term treatments for emotional pain, except changing the way one thinks about themselves, This is a long, committed process, which requires not only getting through the situation or situations that caused it, but also interacting with and changing the memories of them. Unlike most pain, emotional pain is solved by intervention by the sufferer, though sometimes, especially in severe situations, medical professionals may be involved.

Angst- n. German lit- fear, agitation or fright, but colloquially in English used almost exclusively for emotional pain and certain emotions thereof- slightly derisive, esp. when used for and by teenagers

I knew all that. Of course, as a scientist I knew a lot of things- sometimes very useless things. I glanced at my scars, at the band aids I had over scars to be. They weren't exactly self-inflicted, but I hadn't really done anything to prevent them either. I didn't want to kill myself, but there wasn't a sense of self preservation. I wasn't worth killing, but I wasn't worth saving.

At least, that's what my brain was telling me. I knew it was wrong, I hoped it was wrong, but I couldn't stop my thoughts from trying to contradict me.

And so I wept, if only inside my head. Half of me wanted to comfort myself, whispering It's okay, it's going to be okay, but even then it felt false, somehow just a reaching out of some sort of last shred of self preservation. I didn't feel myself worth the concern.

There was no cause for this. It was illogical. Yeah, people were cruel, kids were cruel, and it didn't excuse what they did, but they were cruel to everyone- why would I take it so hard when no one else had? I remember teasing people nearly as badly as they had done to me, or did I? They took it better than I did in any case. Was I being too sensitive? I recalled something akin to torture now, but I recall just gritting my teeth then and tucking my head deeper into my science book, searching out more fallacies the editors had evidently missed. I wanted out, but I wasn't weak then like I was now. Had I just become a weaker person between then and now?

I sighed and packed my things. Maybe a fresh start, following my dreams would help. I'd always wanted to go somewhere... unusual. Inexplicable. Where I could recapture that curiosity I'd used to have when I'd first been learning the workings of the world. But mostly, I just wanted to leave here, leave the half-flashbacks of what I'd done, what had been done to me, and what had happened.

I boarded the nearest train away, into the southwestern desert.

~2~

Carlos

I stared out the window, wondering if instead of studying the amazing town of Night Vale, where dozens of scientists had reported strange phenomena over the years, I should study the odd nostalgia that trains seem to bring on. No other form of transport seems to cause such strong hypothalamic reaction, and part of that seemed to have something to do with the way I was rewriting the memories.

I sighed and curled up on the bottom bunk of my sleeping car and began to doodle on my yellow tablet. Call me old fashioned, but even being raised with email, Facebook, and bounding technology had never diminished my love for the feel and smell and idea of the paper tablet. In a few stops, one to five other scientists would be in the car with me, sharing our living space for the two day ride out to the desert. I tried to use the time to think about what they would not allow me, or perhaps social constructs said not to- self pity, my fears going out there, my secret obsession with valley fever (I had worked very hard to try to develop a vaccine before I left, but I also run out of time and had to test a prototype on myself without knowing if it would work), my painful band aids, and the general dislike I had for other people.

I worked through these anxieties as quickly as I could, knowing any stop might be my first accompanied by others. By stop after stop, no one else boarded the train. I began to play a game with myself, writing a word, then a word I associated with it, starting with one of the words carved on the bunk above:

Loves

Obsession

Clean

Squeak

Squish

Soft

Suffocate

Cucurri- the Latin word for hurry away

Curry

Furry

Warm

Love

Protect

I was in the middle of writing bronze when another scientist cracked the door and peeked in. She seemed surprised: "If you're awake and feeling well enough, come over to my cabin two doors down on the left. We're having a little bit of 'fun.'" I thanked her softly before returning to the game. It suddenly seemed less important. I took a deep breath, stood slowly, and walked over to her cabin. They were scientists after all. Professionals. They would know what to do with this time.

~3~

Cecil

I slowly sat down behind the desk, quietly trying to ignore Station Management's cries of ravenous hunger. They were shrill, piercing, and it probably didn't help they I'd been out late bowling with the others. I softly set my head on the desk for a ten second break before my segment began.

Sooner than I'd hoped, the red "live" light lit, and I began to speak. Slowly, evenly, as I'd always been taught. But it wasn't fun anymore- in fact, I couldn't remember when it was. There just wasn't pleasure in it now, any of it. I just felt drained from all the interactions, so drained. Speaking was like placing a spigot in an old cactus- yes, the water was gone now, but in time it would return with its nasty and somewhat interesting hallucinogenic effects. But now, now I was so tired, not even tired now, just old and worn out and used up.

I wanted to sleep- no, not sleep, to rest- so badly. What was stopping me? Not the money, because the money was barely enough to stay alive here, and not the lackluster fame, and not stubbornness, because goddammit, I was not going to get myself into trouble with that again. What was it? It almost seemed like the routine, the lack of will- of mental and emotional energy- to push outside the tide of routine, was just carrying me along like a small crab in the dunes.

It was finally time for The Weather- my five minutes a session to relax or panic or whatever had to be done. I set my head on the desk and just listened as "Space Oddity" drifted across the soundboard. Yes, I was out there, all alone, and indeed floating in a most peculiar way. My microphone began to hover, and I gently pulled it down as it was apt to do that every once in a while- just hovering, glowing slightly and becoming a bit warm to the touch.

I was sure it was nothing, anyway. The song ended, I finished the broadcast as melodramatically as I could manage, and I packed my things to return home. I was too early to go to bed, but my bones were aching for that support. Maybe it was only my mind, but the brilliant sunset seemed to only fade into a huge stretch of gray sand, seemingly never ending, swallowing up not just me, but the whole of Night Vale.

"Good Night, Night Vale. Good Night." The final shrieks of Station Management were dull, high out here by my house. I wished them, and their unfortunate victims, something of a farewell, a wish of health and happiness in this life and the next.

I couldn't say if I would have the same.