Seeing Cynthia beat Lori was something I wish I didn't. I struggle to keep my hands from shaking. My lips are tight knowing nobody else would really care, let alone be able to do anything about it.

At the breakfast table. JJ and Magdalene are flirting as always, albeit slightly less. Magdalene is just going in and out of sleep on his shoulder while he sits back, watching a rapid sequence of short videos on a holo-deck. Ari is across the table, quietly working on another art project– something bizarre, and highly abstract– and I don't know why she still bothers to sit here.

Hands still shaking.

~~

"Lori has a better ass," one of the Last Men approach me from behind as I'm watching the last episode again.

I look at him briefly, and look back.

"What, you don't agree?" he remarks, seemingly taken aback by my lack of reaction.

Lori has a smaller chassis and so many more vectors of movement. She's also more experienced and can outmaneuver Cynthia. Why the fuck is she losing?

"The one with red hair kinda looks like a lesbian," another comes along.

"I agree," JJ's voice approaches. "Ain't that right?" he bumps my shoulder with his knuckles.

"Fuck..." he lunges back as I jump up and shove him, "off!"

JJ and the other Last Man stand back with their eyes peeled.

"Hey, cool it! We're not here for a fight!" another Last Man approaches as the other two back off further.

"I'll 'cool it' when all of you leave me the fuck alone!"

Right as we place hands on each other, a group pulls us apart.

~~

"Mr. Seussman, is everything alright with you? You've been acting erratic lately," a masked doctor with a voice distorter asks me.

"I'm... okay. Just... restless," I feebly try to confuse them by delaying my words, unable to bullshit her as well as I had hoped.

She tilts her head, and takes a few seconds to assess me. "Is there anything bothering you? We notice that you've spent a lot of time isolating yourself in the library."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Fuck.

"I'm just a big fan of the Jackal Hunter series, and asked... not to be interrupted while indulging in my fandom."

"We can see you're frustrated with something. Boredom from even the most desireable of routines can lead to bouts of emotions we can't always explain. However, today's interaction lead to a potentially dangerous confrontation between you and Mr. Heiss," she continues. "Should we find evidence of deliberate and foul play, either party could suffer disciplinary action, and all parties concerned would likely prefer it not to come to that."

Frankly, if they let me out with the Jackals, that'd be my chance. Well, so long as the yard or wherever isn't a closed field.

"With that all said, is there anything we can do as Compound staff to improve things for you?"

Nope. Except bring me to-

"No, but thank you."

"If that changes, let us know. You are a valuable part of the Compound, and we want everyone here to harmonize. We spoke with Mr. Heiss earlier as well, he holds no grudges with you."

Sure.

We both get up from our chairs, and she holds the door open from the sterile white room.

~~

"Holy shit, man, you're killing it today," JJ mutters as I outpace everyone on the lat pulldown machine.

A few Chosens eyeball me from the corner as they move along the ellipticals and treadmills.

I manage 10 one-arm push-ups each. The vessels in my head feel like overinflated balloons. Almost like how Lori's veins bulged when she got fired up with that off-stage fight with Cynthia. At least what I could see from that shaky video off TwigPost.

It doesn't even hurt anymore. Nothing here can hurt me anymore. It can't hurt more than seeing Lori lose.

The next thing I know, there's 3 dudes on each side of me as I wake up on the floor. They help me up, as I stumble and momentarily black out again.

"Come on, you're good for today, bro. Go rest," one quietly says.

~~

My blood pressure restabilizes as I lie bored on the leather infirmary bed.

"I'm going to go get lunch."

"Are you sure?"

"Why are you asking me? Isn't this the part where the patient, like, protests against the nurse's instructions?"

She just kind of looks at me.

"Okay, take care," she stands up, offering a hand, as I effortlessly get up, only slightly sore.

Noon rolls by, and in the windowed hallway, two lineups of children– segregated by boys and girls on what I'm guessing is a school fieldtrip– spectate us through the windows in the hallway as we proceed to lunch. I guess it blows them away, to see adult men in the flesh.

Filtering through the crowd, a small number of excited Chosens walk up to the glass like spectators of a fish tank in an aquarium or museum. The children and Chosens wave and gape at each other, though more enthusiasm coming from the Chosens, it seems.

It's touching, to see child and adult alike so excited, but also... strange, to see so few Chosens come around. Aren't women supposed to be interested, fascinated, excited by the presence of children? At least more of them? Though, what do I know, all I've seen is through movies and stories of pre-Ex life...

Just as everyone reaches the lunchroom and lines up for pan after pan of whatever variety they have for us today, I'm on the ground again, but this time, with chunks of concrete around me. I hear nothing but ringing, frantically looking around to see the other Golden Boys around me scramble from the source of what I guess was an explosion.

Palms on my hurting and completely deaf ears, I turn to see what I swore I saw in a dream a few days ago.