Pity wasn’t medicine.

Giving broken things consolation never sealed any cracks; life on Earth learned that the hard way. Even when people set out to broker themselves a life of security and bliss, they’ll still succumb to the hell of radiation.

The impassionate forces that choreographed this anarchic play were callous, celestial puppeteers juggling the strings of all things damned. Apologies could foster so much heart but fail to give decaying beings a reviving breath.

Their eyes could grieve all they wanted. Their mouths could gasp all they wanted. Their minds could weep all they wanted.

The animals would die; such destiny coursed through the bile they spewed. There was no anger behind their tortured eyes—only an urgency to perish.

“Hurry,” Theta sighed perfunctorily, glancing between the desolate looks the three adults gave and the equally grim appearances of the animals. “You each get to harmonize with one of them; don’t concern yourself with the ethics. No matter how you try to look at it, these animals want nothing more than to die.”

The toad croaked phlegm. The tortoise cried as its abnormal wings folded into themselves. The salamander breathed its excretions.

“And that’s a fact.” Theta folded his arms with a casual flourish, brooding and expecting. “So?”

Cosima was a victim of facts. Having led her life with bountiful acceptance in her soul, she had come to differentiate between variables and constants; her path had definite roadblocks. If someone didn’t like how she presented herself, she’d swallow the poison and pursue the necessary measures to circumvent the blemish.

She found herself peering at the creatures more than she needed to. Everything shown to her felt shallow—fragile bodies and weak spirits. These were clearly facts, and she didn’t dare to doubt them.

That’s what scared her—she felt too familiar. In this dark room where the animals suffered, it felt like—by some esoteric punishment—that she was gazing into a reflection.

Somehow, on the first day of her newfound commitment, the pity that Theta explained turned into a feeling that would eat her like the reflections.

Crap.

Empathy.

She stumbled, feeling like she had just overdosed.

A hand held her in place, however. She glanced up at Sinjin, who looked blank but had a stone-faced expression that wrapped over the disgust in his squinted eyes.

“Cosimama, make the call if you need to.”

The whisper was cold.

She understood the intention.

I shouldn’t regret this at all; this is the only way.

She scratched her coarse skin, letting putrid air flow out of her mouth in a sigh as she considered finally grasping at straws.

“I think we have to do this—“

“You’ve considered everything, right?” Sinjin interjected, eyebrows lowering in direness. “This whole culture ain’t new, y’know? We know that people die from taking this route.”

“What other option do we have? We—“

“I have my answer… I just need yours—“

“Sin, I know what I want—“

“I know what you want to do, and trust me; I always have your decision in mind—“

“Yeah—“

“But if we’re gonna do this, I need you to understand the full consequences of the actions you’ll take.”

“Hmm, yeah.”

“Think it over now. Carefully.”

They let an uncomfortable yet intimate silence pass by.

“Thank you, Sin.”

Sinjin wore both appreciation and weariness on his face, loosening his protective grip on his girlfriend.

She was now stable. Despite the empathy that plagued her, she let her mind pinpoint the pros and cons of her actions.

Death, disgust, and pain—all that is obvious. Yeah.

Cosima twisted a dry hair strand with her free hand.

The biggest pro is that I find an animal or something housing the cure, but it’s considered rare, no?

She dipped her face out of her hoodie to glimpse more at the deformities on the floor.

It’s a freaking cruel world.

That was something she knew didn’t need to be said.

The toad caught her eye. It choked on the cannon. Soon enough, it felt like it would stop moving. Its short life hung on a thin thread, inevitably becoming a tool to help one of the three adults progress.

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No. Hell no. I can’t stay still.

She clutched harder at Sinjin’s sleeve.

I need this.

Cosima shivered, having moved a tad more than her body would allow her.

If this will be my lifestyle for a while, I’ll need to adapt.

“Sin.” Cosima turned to Sinjin, managing to spot him gazing at Tanairy, who stood aloof nearby. The blonde’s eyes still gleamed a vibrant blue, the light shining through the beads of tears that prickled at the sides. Her nails would possibly open up the recent wound. Her face wrinkled in ire, and her stare was intense.

Contradicting the warm nature she put out during the first greeting, she appeared ungraceful and severely unrefined.

Why is he so drawn to her?

Without hesitation, Cosima tugged at her boyfriend midway into his shift of focus from the blonde to her.

“Hmm?”

“I want this, Sin.” There. He’s focused again now.

Sinjin blinked inattentively before smiling and nodding at her with melancholy.

“Then I’ll do this too,” Sinjin agreed. “It’s not ideal; we’ll obviously try our best to minimize the amount of… crazy crud we get into.”

“Yes.”

“Good, so it’s settled—“

A resonant sniffle slurred from Tanairy, the woman wiping at her burning eyes with a swift thumb swing.

She breathed in. Then she breathed out.

Her eyes slowly constricted as she repeated the breathing exercise.

“Right, I’m ready.” Tanairy breathed hotly through pursed lips, screwing her sight onto the animals before facing the other two adults. “How are we going to do this?”

“Are you doing, uh, well there?” Sinjin queried, putting up a cordial thumbs up. Cosima tensed.

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry—”Tanairy waved her hand dismissively—”about me. I just got a bit emotional—I’m fine now.”

“Don’t blame you. It’s messed.”

“Yeah, but… we gotta do what we gotta do.” Tanairy rubbed her arm awkwardly.

“I won’t say it’s a necessity. After all that has happened,” Sinjin groaned.

A much-needed pause.

“I feel you. I really, really do,” Tanairy agreed before forcing a soft smile. “It’s not ideal, but let’s try to make this work.”

Cosima became more rigid.

“Agreed.” Sinjin pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is wrong—God.”

Another pause.

“Well,” Tanairy began, moving her gaze from Sinjin down to Cosima. Her dimples became more pronounced. “I’m fine with picking last.”

Cosima grimaced internally. How could she possibly become tenser?

Her shoulders suddenly felt heavy, swelling further as she became the target of Tanairy’s overly gentle smile. The magical light in her eyes was ever-present, but it felt that even without it, Cosima would be blinded by what she perceived as a foreboding force. The other woman stood too tall for her liking, with her skin fairer and hair cleaner than hers. It almost looked like she had nothing to worry about—not even a sliver of care in the demeanour flaunted.

In Cosima’s state—regardless of her expertise in appearances—Tanairy would be the bare bones of perfection.

A thought erupted, and the cold room didn’t stop the heat from rising under her black collar.

Why does she feel so…

“Thank you,” Sinjin said, nodding to Tanairy with an understanding look. He turned to Cosima, hooded and closed off. The kind look he gave her didn’t tear her away from Tanairy’s front. “Want to pick first?”

Condescending.

To her, it was like another overdose just being in her line of sight. So when Tanairy diverted her focus away from her and towards the animals, short-lived relief washed over her.

Sinjin doing the same, however, was crushing.

It crushed her back to what the supernatural forces forged her to be: an oddity. The unfaithful empathy chewed on her, and soon—like these dying abominations—she’d be eaten up and left in the thick void of stagnancy.

Dejected, she inspected the floor; the other two adults were normal.

Like ravenous clockwork, preying on Tanairy was a reflex she readily accepted at the moment. As she noticed that Sinjin’s hand lingered near hers, she believed she couldn’t stay still.

If this is the only way to fix me, I won’t let her look down on me.

Her blood bubbled as she gazed from the floor at her available choices.

I could give up now, but—hell freaking no. I will use this chance to make the best choice.

She seethed.

Anything to get me out of this body and keep Sin away from this loose cannon…

“Fine, I’ll go first,” Cosima huffed gutturally, acknowledging the distaste of agreeing to the other woman’s suggestion. However, the eyes finally landed on her, quickly shattering the obscure shell that had concealed her. On the pedestal given to her, she felt as if she could finally take hold of the final straw as she whipped around to a calculating Theta, awaiting their responses with glee like a school teacher. “Can I get a summary of these animals?”

Theta furrowed a brow.

“You sure can ask obvious questions that are clearly surface-level,” he responded sarcastically, smirking playfully at the sickly woman. “But I suppose I’ll give the rundown: a toad that expectorates stomach acid at high speeds from a mouth tube, a tortoise with funky-looking dragon wings, and a salamander shooting cannabis out of its spine.”

“Is it… cannabis?” Tanairy asked.

“Those rafflesia bulbs may as well be pooping it out; I got hit with those pheromones once, and the effect was very… inhibitory.” Theta inched closer to all of them. “As I said, and as you three know already, expect everything. Be aware that the unreal exists and make use of it.”

He frowned at the three animals.

“Analyze as many characteristics as you can. As long as you don’t have your hands on the new remedy, every single harmonization is practically irreversible.”

A cold sweat befell the three amateurs—another piece of common knowledge that always held weight. The air nipped at their skin as they assessed the choices, even with their layering.

It didn’t stop Cosima from immersing herself in the atmosphere.

I need the best bang for my buck.

She eyed the toad.

High-speed acids with the con of a cannon that is large…

She eyed the tortoise.

Wings for flight. A potential add-on is the high endurance of the shell. That Theta only went to the wings.

She eyed the salamander.

I’m not the kind of person who can use those abilities well. I need, uh, something that hits hard.

She eyed the golden opportunity.

Just by being looked down upon, I’m able to pick what is definitely the strongest one.

“I shall pick the toad.” She didn’t elaborate further. The two next to her froze up at the little to no lack of hesitation. She could hear Theta’s satisfied hum nearby as if she had hit all the right buttons. The toad made a hum too, and despite the grotesque display, Cosima shuffled in front of it and looked down on it.

It will be painful. But oh, hell, is it the right choice.

“I’ll go with the tortoise,” Sinjin stammered, earning his share of quizzical stares. His bloodshot eyes quivered at the sight of the tortoise, which couldn’t even carry its flailing neck. “If it’s… going to die like this, I’ll be able to make use of the hard shell and flight.”

Cosima rejoiced in her head.

“I feel, however, that those… weird dragon wings leave something to be desired. So I feel… this poor thing has more to it than meets the eye,” Sinjin explained, rubbing his damp scalp. “Hope that’s fine with you, Tanairy?”

Cosima repulsed in her head.

Why are you concerned, Sin? From what I see, you picked a versatile option. The salamander isn’t something to underestimate, but its applications are less apparent.

“No worries, I’m fine with the salamander,” Tanairy answered humbly, beaming sympathetically at the animal. She frowned as she noticed how it scuttled in distress at the bright light from her eyes. On impulse, she hovered her hand over her vision, shielding the mutant from more torture and covering the fresh onslaught of tears. “I’ll do it a good service. I’ll make sure of it.”

I respect the dedication. But in this world, you don’t settle for the short end of the stick that easily.

Theta hummed twice, each successive one growing in vigor.

“I must apologize, as this is obviously very inhumane for everyone—whether you choose to stick to this culture or not,” Theta said, acknowledging Tanairy’s silent sobs, Sinjin’s empty contemplation, and Cosima’s hunched stance. “However, this is simply the norm now, so we must get used to this absolute hellhole.”

Sinjin squeezed Cosima’s hand, embracing the impact of the following words.

Cosima nodded to her boyfriend, knowing what he would ask.

I’m ready.

“Now,” Theta announced, holding his hand out. “It’s time for the harmonization procedure. We all should know how to ensnare things.”

Like universal clockwork, the three adults outstretched their shaking hands towards their respective downtrodden beasts as if they were next in line for a spiritual blessing.

Cosima had a shrivelled hand poised for the unsightly assimilation of her favored choice and had her other hand in Sinjin’s grasp. She pressed his reddish fingers firmly, expressing that she felt fine.

She was fully engaged now; a goal was in sight.

I never knew I’d stoop so low as to join people in something so sadistic.

Cosima caught a glimpse of Tanairy’s soul pouring relentlessly, a hurricane of emotions twisting in the blueness of her heart.

But whatever spiral this path takes me on, I’ll adapt.

Their palms contorted.

Sin. Let’s keep focused, please.

Their palms bubbled.

Tanairy. Hold back the tears and learn from your mistake.

Suddenly, the skin from their hands lurched forwards in a screeching flash, engulfing the animals and giving them their best service yet.

To Cosima, it was almost as if she had eaten her reflection then and there.

Pitying isn’t medicine.