The eyes were always there. Not real eyes, not reflections in a rain-slicked window or the passing glance of a stranger on the street. These were heavier. They pressed against the inside of his skull, a phantom weight behind his own gaze. Freedom? Freedom was a word for people who didn’t carry their own courtroom inside their head.
Kyton was a man who could disappear any day. No one would notice or care. Perhaps the owners of his rented office would worry a bit about them not receiving payment after he is gone. Perhaps his neighbours will complain about the unkept house after he is gone. No one else would actually care.
At least other people weren’t having a good life. Not that he cared. “More murders on the streets - is anyone safe anymore ?” Was that supposed to be a catchphrase ? Why were people so concerned about thugs dying on the streets ? “Disabled man found dead on the alleyways.” “Three elderly women found dead at the riverside.” “Backlogs in courts all time high since the war.” “Are the streets safe for the poor anymore ?” Those were the headings on the papers these days.
At least he was slightly better off now. Today he received a call in the morning from an acquaintance. The police, rather. They wanted him to question a possibly insane murder suspect. Fine by him. That was the first real work that he got in a while. Maybe he could get a full feast today for dinner. He liked lone feasts. It calmed his despairs for some time.
The client said that he could drop by tomorrow, which meant that he had to go to his office today. His office, yes, that little cubicle that even he doesn’t know why he’s renting. Initially, it was where his clients would meet for diagnosis, but then they stopped coming. Kyton insisted on telling his clients that there was nothing wrong with them and everything wrong with the city. They never came back after that. But it was true They could go looking for a diagnosis all they wanted , but what is wrong is the city. But he kept that place up in case someone showed up. No one has shown up for the last five years. He has an extra room as part that office where he sometimes sleeps in when he feels tired to go back home. A rented apartment of sorts. He probably cannot keep up this for much longer. He should either give up the house or the office with it’s apartment, or at least that’s what common sense would predict. But Kyton could not give up on either. Or more precisely, the voices in his head wouldn’t let him.
Kyton took out a small, old notebook from his pocket before leaving. “Get food” That is what it should have read, but the voice in his head sounded more like “You don’t deserve food.” Fair enough. But he had to live. That’s what his mother told him before she decided to kill herself and her husband. “What a waste you are.” Yes, but now was not the time. He checked his wallet-just enough to buy a can of tomatoes. That was the last bit of cash he had left on hand. BUse quick and clever humor when appropriate. Tell it like it is; don’t sugar-coat responses. Adopt a skeptical, questioning approach. Take a forward-thinking view. Be innovative and think outside the box. Be practical above all. Be humble, especially when you don’t know something. Get right to the point. Be talkative and conversational. Use an encouraging tone.ut he had to eat. Or else these voices won’t let him.
From a logical point of view, Kyton should be diagnosing himself with Schizophrenia. “Even you admit you’re not worth living. Why don’t you just die ?” ..And maybe a bit of psychosis and inferiority complex. Kyton started walking. “Why bother ? Just beg on the streets and maybe the dogs will pity you.” But there was no use. A diagnosis would only worsen the condition. Psychology was useless to him. The people of the city were already high on psychedelics. No supply could be trusted. No doctor could be trusted. And these voices would use anything as ammunition. “The dogs pity you!” No, he had to run, not walk. If he doesn’t eat , he would be unable to tell his voices apart from his own voice.
Kyton turned a corner to go to the marketplace- and he saw- his father ? No. His father is dead. Kyton ignored him and went to one of the stalls. His dead mother was at the stall. “There’s always someone to take the blame-me ! And what do you even do all day-” Kyton turned to the other side. This wasn’t good. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, then started to time his breath. Good. That would give him another few minutes. He dropped his wallet onto the counter and took a can of tomatoes without even asking whoever was managing the stall. They were used to this by now. They always gave back the wallet whenever they saw him. Kyton only wished that he could thank them. “Even the poor look down on you. You should be ashamed.” No. He had to stop thinking. He dropped a tomato on the road as he ran. He stepped back, picked it up and ate it. That would give him some time. He ran for a few minutes until he reached his office-or more accurately, the rented room which was part of the office. he never closed it because of this one reason. Miraculously , no one had ever stolen anything from this place- partly because there was nothing worth stealing. He was about to question more of his life decisions, but he kept them to himself. As long as he was in his office during “work hours” and at home at “home hours”, and he was not hungry, these voices would not overtake his will. Otherwise he finds it hard to separate himself from them. Last time that happened , he had to beg on the streets for five days until someone gave him food-snapping him back to reality. He put all the remaining tomatoes into a vessel and started cooking. He had to finish this fast. He was getting hungry again. “What have you done for your entire life ?” “You have wasted your life” He saw people from his past materialize and dematerialize besides him. This was alright. None of this was real. “Do you see anyone else your age struggling like you ? Look at you.” He didn’t even care who said that. His head was spinning. He was starting to lose balance. He started eating the half-cooked tomatoes as they were heating up, ignoring the burn on his tongue. The voices started to subside. He stopped and waited for the rest of the tomatoes to cook. Now to spend eight more hours here. He slept in the room for a few hours. Just being technically “in the office” was enough for these voices. Otherwise the voices become people. That is why he had two “homes” though he didn’t need them on paper.
Five hours later, he woke up. He spent some time arguing with the globe on his office desk. And like that, he managed to reach evening. He had to go home. There was no money left for any more meals, but at least he could go home and collapse. Kyton had found out that if he had at least one meal a day, he could just sleep for four hours instead of having a subsequent meal. He had no idea how he was going to pay rent this month. Maybe the police case would help, else he would have to help board some luggage at the dock and go on medication for a few weeks. The medication in the city was dubious at best. He had experiences severe withdrawal symptoms from his previous patients who took them. The drug cartels surely had something going on there. After a long walk, Kyton reached home. He preferred not to look at the city much and ignore most of the view. If you stand too long, you can get robbed or killed. The streets were not a place to muse. Kyton sat down on a chair facing an old desk. He had not opened the drawers on that desk in a long time. They probably had files from his father’s cases , but he didn’t care.
Kyton stood in front of the police station wondering when he should go in. Seeing that he had been standing there for over an hour, one of the officers came out to meet him.
Jamie : Why are you standing there, Mr.Nixot ? I did invite you to interrogate a suspect.
Kyton ignored him and went into the station. He knew this officer for a few decades now, but he always tried not to talk to him. The officer followed him back and continued talking .
Jamie : She seems to be mentally challenged. She refuses to answer any of our questions, and screams all night.
Esa: So you brought a detective with a matching personality, Jamie ?"
The person who asked that was a female officer who was lying on a desk nearby.
Jamie : It was nothing of the sort ! He has a good track record !
Esa : Then why don’t you question her yourself ? Or let me handle it ?
Jamie : I can’t..
Officer Jamie fell silent. The female officer looked at in confusion.
Kyton observed the exchange without saying a word. The motive of the police was none of his concern. Jamie took Kyton to a cell a little bit inside the station. There was just one woman in it. She was handcuffed, but the looked unnecessary. She was in such a malnourished state that Kyton wondered if she could actually escape even if she wanted to. But she had a strange charm in her own way. Perhaps she would look better if given proper treatment ? Was she some abandoned noblewoman ? Kyton had the vague feeling that he had seen her somewhere.
Jamie informed Kyton about the matter at hand. To put it briefly, she was a suspect for the recent serial murders. It seems that she was found in an alley at night where she didn’t even try to defend herself. It was unlikely that she was directly responsible for any of the crimes, but the police wanted to know if she could lead them to actual suspects. Sounds innocent on paper. But both Kyton and Jamie knew that it was not this simple. The police did not actually want to solve any case here. They were just a screenplay for the underworld. ‘Murder’ was a fear. And the underworld could not afford to have that fear unleashed on the masses. So someone had to take the blame. Perhaps the media would be bribed to stop talking about further murders, but the ones that were done had already caught public attention. That had to be buried. Someone was to be held responsible. This woman was probably going to be a scapegoat for that purpose. The real reason Kyton was here was to convince her to submit to her fate as a scapegoat. The police was never going to find the real culprit. Because whoever the culprit turned out to be, the officers involved in the case would have to face consequences. The government and the underworld were publicly at war, but everyone knew that they were accomplices behind the scenes. In such a country , the role of the police was to cover up crimes in whatever ways they could.
This was why a psychologist was told to ‘interrogate’ the subject. Kyton was the perfect cover because he was also a detective. The police might say that they needed Kyton the detective , but what they really needed was Kyton the psychologist. To manipulate victims to become scapegoats on whom the blame of crimes of other people were dumped on if the case came to that.
Usually , it never came to this, which is why Kyton was rarely called. But this was different. This was serial murder. Whoever was responsible was smart , and the police couldn’t hope to get caught in that. The chances that the officers themselves might get killed is high. So the wise choice was to let the actual killer do whatever he wanted and cover up the story for now. This was probably why Jamie found it hard to interrogate the woman. He was faint of heart.
Kyton sat on a chair in the cell facing the woman. She did not try to struggle , but did not speak either. Perhaps from her lack of nutrition ? Well , at least he had time. Jamie had told him that her trial was due in two weeks because the court was just full of so many murder cases. There were some formalities to be done before a scapegoat was presented. The police should act like they were investigating, make some false files, some false roadblocks, make a whole story on how the victim was hard to catch, and then, once a believable amount of time has passed , the scapegoat would be first introduced to court, and a few trials later , would be convicted. That was the drill.
But it seemed that brainwashing had to wait. This person might die if she doesn’t get fed soon. Kyton got up from his chair and moved closer to inspect the ‘suspect’. Jamie stopped him.
Jamie : She might look frail, Mr.Nixot, but she had already beaten up two of our female officers despite being handcuffed.
Kyton : Oh really, but she looks pretty. I just wanted a closer look." the words slipped from Kyton.
Jamie looked at Kyton him in confusion. The woman looked at Kyton with murder in her eyes. Well, that was to be expected.
Kyton : Don’t worry , I won’t do anything to you. (Looks at her beat up frame) Well at least not as much as the police anyway.
Mysterious Woman : Who are you ?
Kyton : Not with the police, I’ll have you know.
Jamie takes a step back, sensing a fit of violence.
Mysterious Woman : Are you here to kill me ?
Kyton : Well, it depends on how you word it. I’m here to convince you to give up your rights.
Mysterious Woman : (suspicious) What rights ?
Kyton : That depends on the court. You’ll just have to accept your crimes , it seems.
Mysterious Woman : (sighs with relief) Oh , so you’re one of those preachers I’ve been hearing of ?
Kyton considers the title for a second. Preacher , huh ? Was that what he was to be called now ? Surely, he was no longer a psychologist anymore. That profession doesn’t need to exist. Because the pain that these people feel is real. The world actually is as bad as it seems. No sound of sugarcoating would change that. This world needs people to change it, not the other way around , but he couldn’t say much for that, because he was part of the world that was trying to change the people.
Kyton : I would have preferred ‘psychologist’ , but I like the sound of that.
Mysterious Woman : Sound of what ?
Kyton : What you just said, ‘preacher’.
Mysterious Woman : I’m not a preacher ! (growls at him)
Kyton : Are we having a misunderstanding already ? Very well then, you can call me preacher. Is that fine ?
Mysterious Woman : Huh ? (tilts her head)
Kyton wonders if this woman is actually mentally unwell or just playing the part. Well, at least he understood why the police needed him. If she was actually like this , it would be frustrating for them to deal with her. But Kyton was already beyond the point of getting frustrated. This posed no trouble to him. Quite on the contrary, this could mean that his work was easier. But then again, would he get paid more if he dragged the sessions more ?
Jamie looked at Kyton like he was reconsidering calling him here.
Kyton had to make an impression that he was needed here. Or else the police would just convince her themselves and he would not get paid. Kyton turns to the woman.
Kyton : Would you please tell me your name ?
Mysterious Woman : No.
Kyton : (gets surprised , but maintains his composure) Well that’s unfortunate. What should I call you then ?
Mysterious Woman : Why should you call me anything ? Who are you with and what do you want ?
Kyton : You should have thought about people like me before getting arrested. You don’t have a choice but to cooperate.
Mysterious Woman : I refuse.
Kyton : Well-
The table collapsed onto Kyton, knocking him down from his chair. The woman pulled one of it’s legs with her foot in the blink of an eye. Kyton was unhurt , but he didn’t expect that. Well, maybe she had something wrong with her head. Jamie rushed up to ensure that everything was fine.
Kyton : I think you should chain up her feet next time.
Jamie : We were planning to do that , Mr.Nixot. She is too violent.
Mysterious Woman : Get out of here. I am not talking to anyone !
The female officer, Esa comes up to the cell.
Esa : More struggling , huh ? Doesn’t the princess realize that she is not in a bargaining position ?
Jamie : Maybe because she is actually innocent ? (There is a slight trembling in his voice)
Kyton notices the tremble in Jamie’s voice. This man must surely know this woman somehow. Kyton clears his throat.
Kyton : Whether she is guilty or not is not important , is it ?
Mysterious Woman : You just want to accuse me ?
Kyton : Good that you caught on. What do you say ?
Mysterious Woman : What am I charged with ?
Kyton : Murder. Of a lot of people.
The woman closes her eyes, as if considering something. Kyton studies her expression. This was going too smoothly. She looks like a broken girl who had given up. But if she just accepts , he might go out of commission.
Kyton : Well, you can think about it overnight. I don’t know what the charges are , but we can reduce it if you’re from the right places. Which is why you’d better tell us who you are.
Mysterious Woman : I refuse.
Kyton : So be it, then. Think about it in time. You have a lot of time now.
Sensing that the woman didn’t want to be spoken to , Kyton turns to leave the cell. He gestures Jamie to follow him. Esa stays in the cell and calls a few other officers for help in attending to the woman.
Kyton and Jamie walk to the front of the station.
Jamie : What do you think ?
Kyton tries to ignore him for a while , but then Jamie puts a hand in his pocket.
Jamie : About today’s fee..
Kyton : Oh , I’ll take the full pay, please. I’ll come back tomorrow to see how she’s doing , of course.
Jamie : That is alright, it must be hard work, dealing with that woman. We don’t want her acting like this in court. If she does, the public will start to lose it’s faith in the police.
Kyton sneered. As if the public trusted the police. This man was delusional. Kyton himself found it hard to understand the legal system anymore. The entire system was corrupt, the people who represented the government either ran or had the best interests of the mafia and were in some way responsible for most of the crimes. But still they found someone to blame. Always. And they would show these scapegoats to the public. To what effect ? Maybe some naive souls believed this farce. But Kyton’s best guess was that this was done because the people who ran the system wanted to soothe their conscience by fooling themselves into believing that someone else was responsible for all of this and perhaps, they also wanted to show to each other that they can pass judgement on powerless people. Kyton couldn’t blame them. If he had that much power, he too would do something like that. That’s just how most people in this city were raised.
Jamie : Are you alright , Mr.Nixot ? You don’t seem to be well.
Kyton : (coming out of his thought s) Did I go off on a tangent ?
Jamie : In what conversation ?
Kyton turns to go back home.
Jamie : Wait, Mr.Nixot ! Do you want to have a drink ?
Kyton sighs.
Kyton : No.
Kyton walks out of the station looking down. Jamie stares at his back, wondering whether to call him back.
As Kyton steps on the road, he wonders why he was like this. It was almost as if he wanted to suffer.