Chapter 2

The lights in the apartment flickered several times before finally shutting off altogether. Cyrus had received a text message earlier that morning from his electric company, reminding him of today’s scheduled power outage, but the time between the notification and the actual outage felt much shorter than he had expected. He was playing his favorite VR MMORPG as usual, and was mid-raid when the electricity to his apartment went out, abruptly disconnecting him.

The quick disconnection from the game startled Cyrus, causing his heart to race, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what had happened and get his heart rate back to normal. The surrounding darkness was also disorienting; Cyrus normally kept the drapes over his windows pinned closed, preferring the dim LED lighting to actual sunshine. This kept the outside world "outside" where it belonged, thus preserving the sanctity of his home. However, this level of darkness was beyond the norm, and Cyrus felt almost blind, which brought his heart rate back up once more.

With a grumble, knowing there was nothing he could do about it, he slowly removed his headset and reflexively set it on the charging rack on the table next to his gaming chair. The apartment was now fully engulfed in darkness, but the motion of setting the headset down was so ingrained into his muscles that he had no problem placing it on its cradle.

After re-homing his headset, he then fumbled around for his phone and almost knocked his drink to the floor in the process. He used a sealable bottle to drink from because he had done this exact thing multiple times before, but still, his anxiety rose as his fingers clumsily bumped into the bottle and it wobbled before returning to its stable upright position.

Upon finally touching his phone’s screen, it illuminated, bringing a hint of reality back to the surrounding darkness and washing away thoughts of monsters, ghosts, or shadow figures from Cyrus’s mind.

Cyrus was not a people person, to put it lightly. Most would call him a shut-in, but that was how he preferred his life: orderly, clean, and without external distractions. He rarely even watched TV, opting to consume the small amount of media he did through his VR headgear from the comfort of his one-of-a-kind gaming chair built especially for him.

There was a very good reason for this seclusion, a reason that haunted Cyrus every day of his life, a memory which, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to suppress.

This memory was of an event he had experienced at age fourteen, an event that profoundly changed his life, shifting his mental state to the place it still resided today—a place that many would call unhealthy.

While walking home from school on an otherwise typical Tuesday, Cyrus was looking down at his handheld gaming device and not paying attention. He knew his house was the next one down, having walked this sidewalk so many times that he knew every blade of grass along the way.

But on this day, something caught his attention. At first, he didn’t give it much thought, but then he realized the strange noise was coming from just ahead, from his house.

The sound was similar to a person spraying water from a hose, and his mind assumed it was his mother outside watering the lawn. However, there was something about the noise that didn’t seem to fit with the scenario his mind had come up with.

He was just looking up from his screen to determine what was actually making the noise when… his entire house exploded.

The shockwave from the blast caught him completely off guard, sending him hurtling backward, his entire body becoming airborne. He was flung several feet from where he had stood mid-step and landed hard on his back, hitting his head against the sidewalk, which consequently knocked him out and caused a serious concussion.

In that brief, surreal moment, as he flew through the air, he saw his house disintegrating into countless fragments. It was as if he were watching a scene from an action movie rather than living through his own nightmare. This detachment was his mind’s desperate attempt to shield his young psyche from the horrifying reality of what had just happened.

He had always loved action movies and enjoyed watching huge explosions on screen. However, witnessing one in person, feeling the actual heat, concussive wave, and explosive power emanating from the exploding structure, not to mention coming to realize that everything he owned was now gone, changed his perspective on explosions and life in general forever.

Cyrus was told that several minutes after the explosion occurred, his neighbors came running out of their homes to see what had happened. They found him on the sidewalk and called an ambulance. He was rushed to the nearest hospital, but was airlifted to the major trauma center in D.C. once it was determined that his injuries were beyond their capabilities.

He remained there, in a coma, for several days, his fate uncertain.

Finally, he did wake up, but to an empty hospital room. The only sounds he could make out as he lay there motionless were the machines whirring around him and voices in the hall.

His first thoughts were to wonder why his parents weren’t there with him. His second was of the explosion he had witnessed.

Many uncertainties and tears flowed out of Cyrus that day as doctors and nurses poked and prodded. He was examined from top to bottom and everywhere in between before finally being allowed to sit up and gently sip some warm broth.

Later that same day, he was visited by a kind lady who introduced herself as Ms. Norris. She wasn’t a police officer and didn’t dress like a typical doctor. She explained to Cyrus that she was a grief counselor.

His immediate thought was to ask why he would need a grief counselor, but his still-jumbled mind wasn’t yet putting things together. Instead of asking why she was there, he asked why the people outside his room were saying such horrible things about his parents.

Ms. Norris bowed her head and took Cyrus’s hand. “Cyrus, there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s not going to be easy to understand or accept,” she said softly.

She went on to explain that his parents, who worked for his home country's embassy, were actually foreign espionage agents, better known as spies. Their cover had been compromised, and they had been eliminated, not by the USA, where they all lived, but by an unknown faction altogether.

The paper trail, photos, and digital information proving their status had been released to the media at the same time as the explosion, both confirming their identities and proving to the world that he, Cyrus, had no knowledge of what they were doing and had taken no part in their undertakings.

Cyrus listened in stunned shock, unable to fully comprehend the enormity of what he was hearing. As Ms. Norris continued to speak, he remembered overhearing a heated conversation outside his hospital room earlier. Two police officers were arguing with some loud and unruly people, and amidst the commotion, Cyrus had distinctly heard people calling his parents traitors and commies, words that reminded him of the history lessons he was learning in school, but not in a good way.

Not only was he now homeless and traumatized, but his parents had cut ties with their family when moving to the United States, leaving Cyrus with no idea who he was related to, that information not seeming important until now.

He spent the next few years in hospitals and care centers, working on his recovery and overcoming the physical ailments, but he was never able to truly overcome his anxiety.

He developed a severe case of agoraphobia and had many issues with going outside. The incident, along with the weight of his parents’ betrayal and their violent deaths, pushed him into isolation.

He could no longer face the world outside, not with the whispers and stares that seemed to follow him wherever he went, and not with the knowledge of his parents' secret lives.

And that is why the darkness of his apartment became his refuge, the only place where he felt safe from the chaos of the outside world.

Luckily Ms., now Mrs. Norris, had stayed by him through the years, finding him assistance, setting him up in this apartment complex, and always encouraging him to push further and do more. That's why, with the electricity out and a single errant beam of sunlight peeking through the bottom of the drapes, Cyrus decided it might be okay to let in a little fresh air.

Cyrus moved to the window and drew back the curtains from the top center, careful not to unpin the material from the wall. The sun was bright, and the sky was a clear shade of blue, with only small puffy clouds along the horizon.

It took his eyes a few moments to acclimate to the brightness, and he blinked rapidly from the strong rays. Once they adjusted, he pushed himself further than he had in quite a while and reached up to the upper pane, slowly opening the window.

A cooling, fresh breeze streamed in as the pane slid down, carrying with it the scent of lilacs, which were in full bloom on this mid-May day in the Midwest city of Edina. He had moved to Minnesota to escape the stigma of his upbringing while still being close to a large metro area where he could maintain his secluded lifestyle.

A large lilac tree near his window blocked out much of the view of the rest of the complex, which Cyrus greatly appreciated, even though he rarely opened his drapes. Its lavender-colored blooms brought a much-needed pop of color to his view, contrasting sharply with the mainly gray and black interior of his apartment.

The breeze was soothing, especially since the AC wasn’t working with the power outage. Cyrus was grateful that the temperature outside wasn’t too hot and that the nice breeze blowing in through his open window was helping to cool him off.

As Cyrus turned away from the window to move into the kitchen, he caught a pungent whiff of his apartment's stale air. He had apparently gone nose-blind to the mustiness, as one does when living in a place with little added air circulation. The apartment’s AC and heat pushed the air around, but without the introduction of new scents or the clearing out of the old ones, the aroma of the apartment tended to linger.

The floral-scented air briefly overpowered the usual mustiness, making Cyrus realize just how stuffy his place had become.

"Okay, this place needs a good airing out," Cyrus said aloud, to nobody in particular. He was almost always alone, unless Mrs. Norris came over, or a delivery driver insisted on knocking on his door, but found that talking to himself didn’t mean he was crazy at all. It wasn’t as people suggested, that talking to oneself was a sure sign of mental disease. He often spoke aloud and found his own company quite pleasant, if he did say so himself.

With that thought, he made his way to the kitchen, where he proceeded to open the small window above the sink to encourage some added circulation. He then decided it would be a good idea to open all the windows in the apartment to really let the breeze take away the many manly smells sticking to the walls and carpet.

On his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed a tube of potato chips and popped them open as he moved down the hall to the bedroom.

A couple of steps down the hallway, his watch began to buzz and ring; he had set his ringtone to the familiar intro music from one of the old-school console games he played as a kid. Hearing the digital music, he brought his wrist up to see who was calling and saw that it was his counselor, Mrs. Norris. He had left his actual phone on the table near his chair, so he tapped the screen on his watch and took the call on audio only.

“Hi, Mrs. Norris, I’m on my watch. We can switch to video once I get back to my phone if you’d prefer,” he said in greeting.

“Oh, hello, Cyrus, that’s okay. I’m actually glad to hear that you are away from your phone and that you sound like you’re doing well today,” the female voice on the other end of the line spoke in a soothing and cheerful tone. “I was a little concerned when the electricity went out that you would be having some anxiety issues.”

“The power company texted earlier and said it would be going out for a few hours today, so I knew what to expect, although it seemed to happen sooner than I thought it would,” Cyrus continued. “It was a little triggering at first, but once I realized what was going on, I was okay. In fact, I am actually opening the windows a little. The breeze outside feels nice, and I didn’t realize how stuffy this place had gotten.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Cyrus,” Mrs. Norris said excitedly. “Have you thought any more about what we were talking about last week, maybe getting some sunshine? It’d be a perfect day to do that if you are comfortable enough.”

Cyrus visibly winced at the thought of going outside and was glad this conversation wasn’t on video chat. “Uhh…” he stuttered, “I hadn’t, but you are right, it is a nice day, and there’s nothing really for me to do inside, so… maybe?”

There was a short pause, and Cyrus swore he could hear Mrs. Norris’s huge smile as she beamed in delight at him even considering the idea. “Well, Cyrus, I think it would be a great idea if you feel up to it. I could even stop by if you would like a little extra encouragement.”

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Cyrus liked Mrs. Norris, and she was one of the very few people he didn’t mind having over. She had followed him to Minnesota from Virginia, where she had lived before. Her husband was originally from St. Peter, which played a part in their decision to move back to Minnesota. This all happened around the same time that Cyrus was looking for a place away from D.C. Mrs. Norris had mentioned their move to Cyrus, and it greatly influenced his own decision to relocate.

He was generally a clean person, so he wasn’t embarrassed about his apartment, but having people in his space always felt so intrusive, like they wanted something from him or judged him for being so reclusive. So, unless there was someone very special, he rarely allowed anyone over.

“Okay, well, I don’t want to bother you with that; I’m sure you have plans. I think I’ll be okay by myself,” Cyrus replied as he cranked open the window in his bedroom after removing the pins and setting them in a cup on his nightstand. “If I take a walk or something, though, I’ll let you know.”

There was some slight disappointment evident in Mrs. Norris’s voice as she replied, “Oh, okay, Cyrus.” After a brief pause, she added, “If you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask. You know I’m always here for you.”

To an extent, the relationship they had built was more than just counselor and patient. He had been there when her career had just started, and she had stuck with him throughout his life. He knew that, in some way, he was like a son to her, and he had to admit that she was also a parental figure to him.

A baby started crying in the background of the call as Cyrus spoke. “Okay, Mrs. Norris, I will let you know how things go today.”

Cyrus could hear Mrs. Norris’s footsteps as she walked over to where her baby was fussing. Her shoes clicked on the wooden floors, and the baby’s crying got louder as she drew nearer. “It sounds like I need to get back to Sophie anyway. Take care of yourself, Cyrus, and we can talk more tomorrow at our usual session.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Norris. Talk to you tomorrow,” Cyrus said and hung up the line. He was glad for the finality of the conversation and appreciated that Sophie, Mrs. Norris’s baby, provided the distraction to allow him to end it quickly. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way—she had always been so nice to him and had helped him beyond measure throughout the years—but he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable when talking about leaving his home.

Even though his parents had been found out as spies, he was completely unaware of any of their doings and so had been able to claim the insurance policies they had left for him, both from the house they had owned and on their deaths as well. They may not have been loyal to their country or the one they lived in, but they had been prepared and loyal to him, leaving him with the ability to care for himself once they were gone. While this hadn’t made him rich, it had set him up with the things he needed and enough money in savings to lead a relatively easy life without having to work for anyone.

That didn’t mean he was totally idle, though. He still had a few side projects that made him some extra income, but they were more hobbies—things he enjoyed doing, like making cooking videos or proofreading and editing manuscripts. These activities were enjoyable for him rather than feeling forced.

This is how he managed to live the life he did. He received some assistance from the state, mostly in the form of healthcare, but overall, he felt he contributed more to the economy than he took from it.

Cyrus made his way back into the living room and stared at his gaming chair. He popped open the can of chips again and reflexively grabbed several, tossing them into his mouth with a crunch. He had intended to sit down and stare out the window while enjoying his snack, but the conversation had brought the idea of going for an actual walk to the forefront of his mind.

He looked down at his body. It wasn’t the lean, athletic shape he had as a kid; that body was long gone. What he saw now was pretty much just skin covering blubber. He hadn’t taken the initiative to keep up his physique. He didn’t exercise regularly, other than cleaning his house and making food. His life revolved around playing video games, reading sci-fi and fantasy novels, and cooking.

He stood there and pondered his limited existence for several long moments, another couple of saddle-shaped, cheddar-flavored fried potato crisps entering his mouth as he did. He thought about how much life he had missed by locking himself away in his safe place.

‘Maybe I should go outside. The exercise would be good for me, so would the vitamin D from the sunshine. I could make a sandwich and have a little picnic down by the pond,’ he thought to himself as he mindlessly chewed and swallowed, the actual flavor lost on him after eating so many of the flavor-bombed chips over the years.

A small voice at the back of his mind made the case for staying inside, telling him, 'There’s nothing but violence and judgment outside, it’s not worth the effort. Just sit here and let nature take its course.'

This was the voice he listened to the most. It was the voice that had kept him safe. It had started almost immediately after the incident and had helped him stay alive and well for years now.

But as Cyrus continued to look from his body to the sunlit grass outside, a new, smaller voice entered the conversation in his head. 'But have you actually lived? You haven’t left here in over a year, and then only to get your medications that one time because the delivery was stalled. Is that really who you want to be?'

The iconic image of an angel and a demon sitting on his shoulders came to mind as the voices spoke to him. He could see and understand the veracity of each argument. It was easy for him to justify staying inside, hidden away from the scary parts of the world; but he also remembered how much fun he used to have when he was young. He understood that not everything was scary, and not everyone wanted his money or to cause him pain, but it was difficult to believe that for him.

It was an argument he had with himself frequently, yet he almost always pushed away the voice telling him to be ‘normal.’ The smaller voice telling him that it would be okay to leave, that he might actually enjoy himself if he stepped outside.

His gaze rose to the window once more. He could see through the branches of the lilac tree to the pond in the distance, its water sparkling and ducks floating lazily on top. The fountain in the middle jetted upward, its plume shimmering as it cascaded back down into the water.

'You could take some of that popcorn you bought, thinking you would snack on it instead of chips, out to the ducks. They won’t mind that it tastes like cardboard,' the smaller voice spoke once more, its volume growing ever so slightly louder.

“There really isn’t anything to do here at the moment, is there?” Cyrus said aloud, in an attempt to convince himself.

He could feel his legs quiver as he seriously began considering the idea of having an outside excursion. He couldn’t decide if it was in anticipation, dread, or perhaps just the thought of getting some actual exercise.

He heard small birds tweeting outside his window, and the scent of the lilac bush wafted in strongly once more. The smell was sweet and spoke of relaxation and contentment.

Cyrus looked around his apartment; everything was in place. There was nothing that was going to expire or change if he went outside for a little while.

With a huge inhalation of air, Cyrus closed his eyes and made up his mind. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said to himself, reaffirming his decision and gearing himself up.

The next few minutes were spent making a sandwich with turkey, roast beef, white cheddar, pickles, lettuce, and honey-dijon mustard on rye bread; mixing a mixed-berry smoothie with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream; and stuffing the remaining chips from the tube, some cookies, diet soda (of course), and the aforementioned cardboard-tasting popcorn into a small duffel bag.

Cyrus put on his best walking shoes, which just so happened to be the only pair of actual shoes he owned; the rest were slippers he wore inside. He then stood at the door to his apartment, his hand resting lightly on the knob.

‘Am I really going to do this?’ he asked himself. He was already sweating, partially from the exertion of getting everything ready, but mostly from the thought of leaving.

‘You got this! Just think of how good you’ll feel once you are outside with the grass and sunshine, feeling the breeze and smelling nature,’ the once small voice spoke inside his mind once again.

Cyrus could swear he heard a condescending ‘pfft’ come from the other voice in his mind, letting him know how foolhardy it felt this outing was.

“I can do this,” he said aloud, trying to force his hand to twist the knob. The sweat from his palm made his hand slide around the silver metal doorknob, forcing him to grip even tighter, his knuckles whitening.

“Come on, you stupid door,” he growled. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at the door or his sweaty palm, but it seemed like the universe was fighting him. He was trying to do something good, to get outside and fight against the mental shackles placed on him, and these obstacles were making the task that much more difficult.

Cyrus inhaled deeply, wiped his palm on his shorts, and gripped the handle once again. This time, he twisted as he exhaled, and the door unlatched. He pulled the door inward into his living room and faced the hallway.

He had overcome the first obstacle. Now he needed to cross the invisible barrier that kept him separate from the rest of the world. Cyrus knew it was all in his mind, but he swore he could see a shimmering blue force field partitioning his apartment from the hallway.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing once again and extended his right foot forward. His foot easily passed through the mental barrier and landed on the hallway floor with its diamond-shaped gray and blue repetitive design.

Opening his eyes again, he saw that his foot was actually outside his doorway. With another bout of effort, he pushed himself forward and forced his left foot to join him.

A wave of tension rolled over him as his torso passed through the plane of the mental barrier he had erected.

Then Cyrus realized he had made it through and was now outside.

Immediately, the warring voices in his head began competing for dominance, almost screaming at each other in their bid to make Cyrus move either forward or in reverse. One side encouraged him, telling him to continue outside and that what he was doing was great, while the other reprimanded him for leaving, warning him of the dangers lurking in the outside world and demanding he turn around and get back inside.

Cyrus closed his eyes again, focusing on his breathing and simply listening to the world around him, hoping to silence the voices. Luckily, there weren’t any other people in the hallway; their voices would have tipped the scales and sent him running back to his sanctuary.

He did hear a dog barking in the distance and the same birds singing as he had heard inside, but the sounds of nature were encouraging rather than frightening to his anxiety-ridden mind.

With another effort of will, Cyrus pulled the door closed behind him and heard the telltale click of the lock as the handle slid into place. He had a self-locking door, and only by having a specific key card or being able to log into the app on his phone could he get back in.

He made sure he had both the key card and his phone on him, with the app open just in case he needed to re-enter quickly.

It was only about four steps to the end of the hall, where a glass door covered in children’s sticky handprints kept out the elements. It took Cyrus several more seconds to gather the courage to take those four steps, contending with the mental juggle he faced every time he tried to leave his apartment.

Once he was ready, he slowly and deliberately stepped forward until he found himself gripping the handle to the door to the outside, his brain protesting the entire time.

His apartment was his sacred space, but the apartment building, in general, was also a type of sanctuary. Once he moved through this next door, he would truly be without shelter. Once he was truly outside, he would be vulnerable.

It took Cyrus several more moments of listening and breathing, calming himself, and intently focusing on the encouraging voice in his head, but eventually, he found the strength to pull open the door, exposing himself to the vast world outside.

A cool breeze immediately flowed over him; it was humid outside, but the breeze was refreshing. The temperature wasn’t overly warm, and the smell of freshly cut grass filled his nostrils, the scent carried on the wind.

He could hear the whir of the lawnmower as it continued its work, its job here at his building already finished. The trickle of water from the fountain and the quacks from the ducks blended in with the normal sounds of the city: the horns, engines, and people.

And that was the crux of Cyrus’s problem: people. Nature he could deal with. Nature followed rules; it had hierarchies and did things out of necessity, not emotion. People were the opposite. People did things because they wanted to, because it felt good, or made them money. People did things that made no sense; they hurt each other, deceived themselves as well as one another. People were the scary part.

Now that he was beyond the doors, outside where anything could happen, Cyrus both froze and melted at the same time. He was still, frozen in place, but his emotional baggage, the coldness that surrounded his heart, melted as he felt the peace that can only be found in nature.

He stood there for several moments, the happy, encouraging voice singing its praises, while the now smaller, negative voice grumbled in a dark corner. Finally, he began walking, placing one foot in front of the other as he made his way away from the apartment building.

He eventually reached a small table near the edge of the pond. A few other people were around: one walking a pair of small brown dogs, an obviously romantic couple enjoying lunch by the water, and a small group of workers with weed eaters and leaf blowers trimming and cleaning the areas where the lawnmower couldn’t fit.

For Cyrus, his anxiety continued to mount as he made his way to the table, but no one seemed to pay him any attention, so he was able to push forward. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart thudded loudly in his ears when he arrived, but he sat down at the table and began removing the food he had packed from his bag, vowing to make it through this ordeal.

‘I’ve made it this far; I am going to finish,’ the mantra repeated in his mind.

He took out the sandwich and twisted the lid off the bottle of diet soda, setting up a nice eating area for himself. Some small flies and a bee felt entitled to his food, but he shooed them away as he began eating his picnic lunch.

As time passed, sitting in the sun and feeling the breeze, his anxiety lessened. He was being left alone, enjoying himself outside, with the ducks coming up to gather the popcorn he had thrown to them. The insects were annoying but tolerable, and the sensation of being free, open, and unrestricted was a balm for his anxiety-ridden brain.

Cyrus even found himself smiling after a while. He had finished his sandwich and actually enjoyed watching the ducks squabble over the small white kernels he threw to them. The sounds of the world seemed to melt into a small buzz at the back of his mind. He was still aware of its presence, but it was easily overlooked for the moment.

He began to wonder if this was how ‘normal’ people felt.

‘If I could feel like this all the time, I wouldn’t have to hide away so much,’ he thought to himself while tossing another handful of the flavorless popcorn to the ducks and other small birds now surrounding him.

Cyrus felt the sun warming his back and stretched his arms up to meet it. He cracked his neck from side to side, rolling it and letting his nerves relax. Then he realized the sun was beaming down more from his side, not on his back, and he turned to verify.

He found that the sun was indeed more to his left side than to his back, yet the heat from behind him was growing in intensity. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was warmer than the rest of his body.

Continuing to turn around to see what might be causing such an unusual sensation, he found nothing there but his apartment building. Then he noticed what looked like small reflective particles raining around him.

The heat, which had been centered on his back, expanded and now engulfed his entire body, and a strange, almost weightless sensation quickly overcame him.

The fear of the unknown caused Cyrus’s stomach to jump into his throat as if he were on the steep descent of a tall roller coaster. Panic washed over him, and a new layer of sweat rapidly dampened his clothes.

The reflective particles multiplied exponentially, and Cyrus found he couldn’t move. He was surrounded by them.

The surrounding world quickly faded until all he could see were the silvery shiny points of light holding him in place. The sensation of heat was replaced by a feeling of rising too quickly in an elevator, as if his feet were trying their hardest to be in the spot his head was currently occupying. His heart pounded in his chest, and a wave of dizziness made him feel as though he might vomit as his vision began to blur around the edges.

Then, after being bound for what felt like an eternity but was probably only twenty or so seconds, the encircling particles simply evaporated, and Cyrus’s vision returned; the feeling of rapidly rising also ending.

Unfortunately, as Cyrus’s eyes readjusted, the park with its freshly cut grass and shimmering pond was no longer surrounding him. What he saw now reminded him more of one of the video games he played than the real world, and Cyrus’s hands reflexively went to his head to double-check he wasn’t actually wearing his VR headset.