by Shiloh White
“Is it really alive?” I asked in a small voice. The Lieutenant closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked at me and nodded. “Yes, and it's why—”
A knock at the door to the room cut her off. In the doorway stood a petite young woman who didn't look much older than me. She stood a little taller than me, and she had silver hair. Something about her seemed odd to me, but my mind was too full to handle another stray thought.
“Ma'am,” the silver-haired woman addressed the Lieutenant with a quick salute. She took her eyes off of me, and turned around to face the woman. “Yes, what is it, Officer Halsey?”
Officer Halsey shifted from foot to foot. As she looked down at us, you could see her realizing something was going on. But she continued, trying her hardest to make eye contact with the Lieutenant. “It's the trackers. They're back, and they need to talk to you.”
The Lieutenant let out a tired sigh and headed up the stairs. The odd woman Halsey backed out of the room, as the Lieutenant cleared the stairs. She turned around and pointed at Dart. “Catch Hale up on our job.”
Then she looked at Scott, who flinched, like someone was about to hit him. “We'll talk about your insubordination later.” she said. Then the Lieutenant walked out of the room.
“Insubordination?” I asked. Scott put his hand up to quiet me. “It's not important,” he said. “We have more pressing things to discuss. Dart?”
Dart was hunched over in his office chair, staring deeply at his laptop. “Right. There's so much junk on this thing...I should really just put our orientation video in its own folder”
Scott cleared his throat impatiently.
“Fine,” Dart said. “We'll do it the old-fashioned way.” He closed his laptop and looked at me. “Things are different here in the Dust than they are where you're from, Lucy.” Dart said.
“I can sort of see that,” I said, looking around the room, “I just don't get it.”
“Think of the Dust as a layer underneath your world,” Scott chimed in. “Only, most people have no idea about it. And the few who do have no clue how to even look for it.”
“Exactly.” Dart swiveled back and forth in his chair. “And the two layers are linked by many things, one of which being Depression, with a capital D. It's a bigger force than just the illness you say it is.”
Dart's eyes lit up, like he was telling a campfire story. This topic must have excited him. A lot of this made zero sense to me, but the stern look on Scott’s face reminded me how serious they were about this, so I said nothing and just nodded. At one point, I gave a quick glance to Chloe. At this point, I was ready for anything that would get my sister back.
“Each piece of that illness that you experience,” Scott continued for Dart, “has a manifestation here in the Dust. It's bent on sucking any and all emotion out of the person linked to it.”
“You had me,” I said, “and then you lost me at manifestation.”
Dart pulled his chair on wheels closer to where I sat, looking me dead in the eyes. Under different circumstances, it might have been funny. Right now, it just made me uncomfortable.
“You don't really think the only voice in your head is yours, do you?” he asked.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, trying not to panic.
“Think of it like looking at a funhouse mirror,” Dart explained. “The normal one is your world, and all you see is you with messed up thoughts and emotions that bring you trouble. Now take a look in the funhouse mirror—the Dust. Here, they're more than messed up thoughts and emotions. They have physical forms, and they feed on emotion. Using anything they can to get it. We call them Depression Agents.” He looked up at Chloe.
My heart sank. Not only me, but now my little sister was involved. I thought back to everything I did. Avoiding people; sticking to what I was already close to. All of my efforts couldn't have been for nothing.
“Wait,” I said, looking up at the monitor again, “how can that thing belong to me? I don't even have depression anymore. I've handled that over the past few years.”
“Well...” Dart squinted his face, and put a hand on the back of his neck. It didn't make me feel secure about my answer.
“Well, what?” I demanded. “What do you know that I don't?”
Dart held up his hands in defense. Before I could keep pushing, Scott cleared his throat and spoke up again.
“Lucy, these Depression Agents, they each reside in a concentrated area of a person's Depression known as Depression Zones.”
“When you say concentrated areas, you mean—”
“Anything. Think of it like a swimming pool full of anxiety instead of water. Any thought that leads you to anxiety is being siphoned in from the Agent swimming in that pool—err, Depression Zone.”
I tried to imagine someone sitting in a pool following me around and splashing anxiety at me. Why couldn’t I just leave the pool? I got the sense I was still missing something.
“Forget the analogy,” I said. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Because everyone who's ever had Depression,” said Dart, “has a Depression Zone floating out somewhere in the Dust.” He pulled open his laptop again. “It's our job to monitor them.”
“Monitor them?” I asked. “What for?”
“We fight Depression, remember?” Scott said.
“Well, more specifically,” Dart poked, “we keep these Agents in check until each person is strong enough to take care of their own depression.”
I couldn't believe that as long as I dealt with this problem, there was somebody helping me in this fight. I didn't know what to do with that thought. I was glad someone was on my side. But at the same time, it made me feel weak. Did I really need help to fight my own battles? Not to mention, these people knew what my problems were now. They probably had for a long time.
It made me feel exposed, like someone emptied my bag of business on the counter for everyone to gawk at.
“Now,” Dart said as he spun around in his chair, his laptop sitting in his lap. “When it comes to your Depression Zones, Lucy, they've been growing Dormant over the past few years.” My heart skipped a beat. “Dormant…like asleep?” I asked. Dart's eyes went wide. He shook his head so violently, his chair lurched forward and he almost fell over. “Course not. That would be bad. But they were on their way. Almost off the grid. Probably why you think you've been fine all this time.”
“I am fine,” I told him. “My depression can't be doing this, because it's gone.”
“Not gone. Neglected.” Scott said.
“Dormant.” Dart corrected Scott, emphasizing as well as he could.
He set his laptop back on the table, and clicked something that caused the giant screen to shift. My sister's hospital room disappeared and was replaced by a large gray area. It looked just like the outside of the Dust: a bunch of nothingness.
As if Dart could read my mind, he said, “Gimme a second...” He clicked something else on his keyboard, and the grayness on the screen got bigger. Darker spots appeared all over like a bunch of specks on a dirty windshield. The screen kept zooming in until we were looking at three dark wisps sitting in the Dust. They looked like pinwheels, and were almost as gray as the Dust behind them. Dart pointed up to the big screen and said, “These are your Depression Zones, Lucy.”
“H-how...I thought that—”
I couldn't form a sentence. Too many emotions were swimming around in my head. Each time I thought I understood this; there was another level to the mess that was my Depression.
“Your zones were on the way to being Dormant,” Scott jumped in. “Until one day, there was a sudden burst of activity—when your Depression Agent jumped the gap to your world.” Scott said.
“How did it do that?” Scott and Dart exchanged a look, but neither of them said anything. It made me uncomfortable. I felt my finger tapping the side of my leg. Finally, Dart spoke up, saying, “Well, it hasn't happened in a long time, but once a Depression Agent gets strong enough,
they can use their link to the host to jump between the Dust and your world.”
“Why would you let them do that?!” I said, trying not to freak out. “Didn't you just say it's your job to keep them weak?”
“Lucy, we couldn't do anything if we wanted.” Scott said calmly. “When you ignored your Depression, you gave it the freedom to drain you of your emotions over the course of three years—”
“Not to mention, we couldn't find your Zones. This image was from a few days ago.” Dart cut in, pointing at the big screen.
“You gave it plenty of time to become much stronger, to the point where it could bridge the gap between the Dust and your world and finish you off.” Scott said.
“Finish me off? Then why is it going after Chloe?” I asked, holding my hands up in confusion.
“Fantastic! Now we're all on the same page.” Dart exclaimed.
I didn't find that a good reason to celebrate. Scott shot him a look that said “you're not helping”. Dart shrugged apologetically.
“What I meant to say was,” Dart continued, “we don't know why it's going after Chloe yet, but…” he trailed off.
“But what?” I asked.
“Well, we know it won't end well.”
“Won't end well…” I echoed. “What do you mean by that?”
“Depression Agents feed on their host over the course of their whole life,” Scott said. “There's a special link between them. But if the agent got ahold of someone else, their emotions could be sucked dry in less than two days.”
✽✽✽
I looked back up at the screen that showed my Zones. Depression was always in the way, so I just ignored it until it went away. But now on top of not going away, the danger my sister was now in was my fault because I ignored it. Gone forever, in just a matter of days, if I didn't do something.
“Is there any way to save Chloe?”
“I'm glad you asked.” Dart grinned. “It's just a theory now, but it's pretty straightforward. If you take out your Depression Zones here in the Dust, not only will your Depression go away, but it will destroy all of your Depression Agents—including whichever one went after your sister.”
My heart thumped in my chest, filling me with newfound energy. I was ready to move.
“Why aren't we taking on Depression right now, then? Chloe doesn't have much time.”
But even as I said it, my stomach protested against me, doing flips to get me to back out. I silently told it to knock it off.
“I'm not sure that's the best plan right now.” Scott said.
“Why not?” Dart asked. Scott's eyes shifted to the ground.
“Well, Lucy just got here. She's probably still banged up from the journey here.” As much as I didn’t want to believe it, he was right. I did still feel a little dizzy. And the white room wasn't easy on my head.
Even my stomach was against me too, doing flips and flops everywhere. It might as well have been the home for my anxiety Depression Zone. I convinced myself none of that mattered, however. Chloe's life was more important.
“Scott, I can do this,” I told him. “I feel better than before.” I folded my arms and stood up straight to help make my point.
“Better than when I had to carry you in here?” he asked.
“Scott, relax,” Dart said. “She wants to do this. Lucy will be okay.” He pulled a small metal rectangle out of his lab coat pocket. It looked sort of like a phone, but not any phone I recognized.
“Okay, so she's feeling okay. Still, we can't send Lucy in alone. She doesn't have any training. Or her own Handle for that matter.”
“What's a Handle?” I asked.
“It's a unique weapon every Depression Force Officer uses and never goes into the field without,” Scott explained, placing his hand on his belt. I looked down at Scott's baton that hung there. I remembered that it changed shapes when he fought the Depression Agent in the hospital.
“Anyway,” Scott continued, “they're the only thing that can take care of Depression Agents. Without them, you have no way to take them down.” Scott sounded satisfied, as if his argument were strong. I started to realize it was like he was worried about more than the plan right now.
“Scott, Lucy won't need a Handle because you'll be going with her.” Dart said with a smile, shutting down Scott's way out. Or so I thought.
“What about Lucy's zones? You said yourself that picture”—he pointed to the three dots on the large screen—”was a few days ago. We don't even know where to find them.”
He had me there. I didn't have the first clue about where to look for my Depression. A small part of me was still hopeful this was all a hoax and I rightfully didn't have Depression at all.
“Yeah, about that,” Dart said. He walked over to his laptop and closed it. Then he pushed his chair into the desk and leaned against it. “Once Lucy got here, her zone's readings started to fluctuate. It gave me enough info to run a test on her first zone, and—”
“So can we get there or not?!” I blurted out, louder than I intended to. Dart flinched. I admit I was starting to feel a little self-conscious. The entire conversation was about me, and yet I was no part of it. Plus, I didn't feel good about someone running a test on my emotions without my consent. It would be the same thing the psychiatrist would do. It frustrated me, and I didn't want to stand by anymore.
“Uhh,” Dart stammered, “Not enough for us to take our usual course. But it's enough for that machine to go off of.” Scott gasped.
“We don't use that machine anymore. It isn't safe. Besides that, you don't even have permission to use it,” he said. Dart waved a little handheld device at Scott.
“You mean the permission the Lieutenant just gave me?” Scott said nothing. I stood quiet too, while my stomach played tug-of-war with itself.
We were going to save my sister. But the way they talked about this machine, whatever it was, didn't sound good.
“It's our only shot, so we better take it.” Dart said. He unhooked his laptop and took it with him as he left the room, gesturing to follow him. I went up the stairs and turned the corner to catch up with him.
“Where did the Lieutenant go?” I asked.
“We were tracking someone. A lead came up, so she went to deal with it.” Dart answered, focused on the hallway in front of us.
“Oh.” I said.
“Don't worry about it, Lucy. These things happen all the time here. Otherwise, there'd be no need for us.” He stopped at a brown door at the end of the hallway, and turned around. “Anyway, you should be focused on your Depression.”
“That doesn't sound very positive. Why should I do that?”
Dart flashed a grin at me. “Because we're going to use it to catapult you into your Zone.”
9. I Trip Down Memory Lane
I didn't like the idea of being catapulted anywhere. But I figured I was too far in to back out now. Chloe certainly was.
Dart opened the brown door and we walked in the room. Dust flew into my nose, and I wished I could sneeze. The room smelled like an old attic. At some point Scott joined us. He walked in after me and hit a light switch. It made the room glow with a dull orange tint. I did a three-sixty around the whole room.
“Why is this room so old compared to everything else?” I asked. Just like your typical attic, the room was made out of wood that looked like it would fall apart at any second. There were also your basic antiques—what looked like a pile of old stuff covered with dusty blankets. Next to it, in the middle of the room was a tall coffee table the same color as the wood. Dart set his laptop down on it, and pulled a fold-up chair from the corner over to the table.
“Because it is old compared to everything else, or at least, older than everything at HQ.” Scott said in a strained voice. He started coughing into his elbow. He must have gotten dust caught in his throat. “Come on, Scott. Quit fooling around.” Dart said in a mock-bossy tone. I held in a laugh. Dart opened up his laptop and plugged in some cords he grabbed from underneath the table. T
he cords ran over to the awkwardly shaped pile of junk covered by the blanket. “But he is right, Lucy.” Dart said from the desk. “The TransPort's real touchy. There will be specific instructions for you to follow.”
“TransPort?” I asked. Scott's coughing fit ended and he pulled the blanket off of the pile of stuff, launching more dust into the air. I plugged my nose and waited for the dust clear. The pile of old stuff underneath the blanket was actually an old chair. The padding was brown leather, but it was all cracked. Above the headrest was a strange machine that looked something like a helmet. Overall, it looked like a cross between some sci-fi mind-reading machine and a reclining barber shop chair. I was in no hurry to use it.
“Right. Named for obvious reasons, the TransPort is what gets you to your Depression Zones. Go ahead and get strapped in.” I didn't budge.
“It looks like it's going to fall apart any minute.” I noted. The poor helmet looked like it was hanging on its last few screws. “Why do we have to use this?”
“Your readings aren't clear enough,” Dart admitted. The coordinates are too shaky to use the standard machines.”
“So this old thing can handle those shaky coordinates?” I asked.
“Unlike our new machines, this old beauty can use the individual's raw emotions tied to their Depression to find their Zones.” Dart explained. “It'll be simple. So let's get this show on the road.” With all his technical talk, Dart reminded me from a guy off an old space show my dad watched. He even called the antique machine an “old beauty.” To me it just looked like a deathtrap. I reluctantly sat down in it. There were straps for my ankles and wrists, and Scott helped me with those.
“Just hone in on the feeling that comes to mind. The TransPort will do the rest. It won't be hard.” he reassured me. “I'll be there shortly after you arrive.” Then he left the room, and jogged out of sight down the hall. I was unsure of him all over again. His whole demeanor was different from when he tried to convince us not to go. I saw him in action before, but I hoped that he would be able to stay focused when we got there. As upsetting as it was to admit, Scott was right. I had no training. Or a weapon. I was going in blind against my own Depression.