I looked through the one-way window to see Ice sitting at the metal table, firmly restrained with a shock collar around his neck. His blue eyes were glassy and glazed over, practically lifeless if it weren’t for occasional soft, slow blinking. His breathing was slow, as though he were asleep.

After a few more moments of preparing myself, I slowly entered the room.

Ice showed no reaction.

Keeping my breathing calm, I sat across from him.

“Ice?” I whispered, leaning forward. “Ice, can you hear me? It’s me, Calvin, your doctor. I just…. I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

Again, no reaction.

I slowly and softly continued, “I think you can hear me, even if it’s just a little bit. I know you’re… not exactly responsive right now, but I need you to come back. I need to ask you some questions about the people that hurt me, about how you knew I was in the closet.”

He blinked. For a second, I thought I saw a flash of life in his blue eyes.

“Ice?” I raised my voice a bit. “Can you hear me?”

His ear twitched.

His lips parted.

He rasped out, “I’m here.”

“Ice?”

“...Yeah.” He glanced up at me, “Are you feeling better?”

I gently smiled, “Yeah, yeah, I’m feeling better, thanks. I-I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but… how did you know that I was in danger? I can assume you found me by just… sniffing me out. But… how? How did you know?”

He frowned, squinting, “I…. I don’t know. I just…. A feeling.”

I slowly nodded, “Okay. A feeling.” I looked up at him. “Ice, the people that put me in there told me not to ask questions I wasn’t ready to know the answers to. I have a feeling they were talking about you. And the chip in your neck.”

His eyes slowly widened. His ears were pinned down. His breathing quickened. He dug his shoulder into the side of his head. A small whimper escaped through clenched teeth. His metal hand twitched and trembled.

“Ice?” I slowly reached out, almost touching him. “What’s wrong?”

“Th-they’re gonna keep hurting you,” Ice whimpered. There were tears in his eyes. “‘Cause you’re involved with me. Th-th-they don’t want you knowing what happened, they don’t want you to know a-about the others. I-I’m sorry, I can’t talk anymore. Th-they’ll make me h-hurt you.”

He soon fell silent and still, eyes regaining their glassy dead look.

Abruptly, he jolted, snarling at me. I shot backwards, heart pounding at the jumpscare. His ears were pinned back, eyes blazing with rage.

I stood up and left the room, taking a deep breath from my inhaler.

“What. The actual. Fuck?” Jr. Dir. Thompson firmly said, having been watching the entire time, alongside Jr. Dir. Swann.

“He’s being controlled.” I took a deep breath, muscles tensing in anger and confusion. “The people that are controlling him are the same people that tried to kill me. We need to get that chip out of his neck, as soon as possible.”

“Until we do, let’s lay off the cybernetic questioning,” Swann said. “In fact, until we come up with a plan, best stay away from 54.”

“Agreed, we don’t want these people gaining more information, about you or anything else,” Thompson nodded. “Perhaps you can help Dr. Grant with 39; I believe they’ve been busy with 53 lately.”

My eyes widened, “EW-39? That kid needs a nutritionist and psychiatrist, not a biologist with a Master’s in robotics and technology.”

Thompson’s brows shot up. “You raised Sean by yourself.”

“Sean is very different from EW-39,” I firmly said, offended on my son’s behalf. I sighed, “But, I suppose, if Max is busy, I can at least take him his meals and make light conversation.”

I didn’t like the idea of tending to EW-39, but what Thompson said was true; I had somehow raised Sean, a traumatized boy, while working from home for almost a year until he was comfortable enough to be home alone for long periods of time. I could handle a traumatized boy with severe depression, an eating disorder, and some suicidal ideation. Probably.

This was going to be interesting.

That evening, at dinner, I sat with Max Grant.

“So, I’ve kinda been barred from talking to 54 for now,” I sighed. “Need any help with 39?” I glanced at the pin on Max’s lapel before continuing to think about them.

“Mm, it’s great that you ask,” they waved their fork at me. I didn’t particularly like how their green eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ve been working with EW-53 ‒ you know, the teleporting white-eyed girl ‒ so, Caspian’s kinda… fallen into the back of my mind, which I hate.” They stabbed their pasta. “Tell me what you know about him.”

“Uh, well, he’s called the boy with a crystal heart,” I began rattling off all I knew of EW-39. “He has no physical heart inside him; his heart is supposedly a blue crystal with water floating in the center. He claims to be a Gemheart, a species that is possibly almost extinct. He’s originally from…. I don’t know, the southern United States, and was raised by his… paternal ‒ no, maternal ‒ grandparents. But, they’re dead now, so he’s here. He’s traumatized from being kidnapped and vivisected, and has developed severe depression and an eating disorder.”

“Yes, although we’re not entirely sure where the eating disorder came from, nor what exact type it is,” Max nodded, satisfied with my answer. “He is avoidant of eating, so it’s likely ARFID.”

“ARFID?”

“Avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder,” Max explained. “A general aversion to eating for whatever reason. Usually not too harmful, relatively speaking, although it can cause nutrient deficiencies, depending on the severity. All I’ll need you to do is take him a meal ‒ I’ll send you a link to his usual meal plan and what foods he likes ‒ and keep watch to make sure he actually eats, at the very least, half of it.”

I slowly nodded, “Okay. Any…. Do I…. Should I, like, do a physical exam?”

They shook their head, “Not necessary, we do that once a week with a blind weight check, his last one was two days ago. Just make some light conversation, tell him about yourself and listen if he chooses to talk. Even if it goes off-topic and doesn’t make much sense. If he starts crying, wrap his weighted blanket around him. I typically do around the shoulders but forcing him to lay down and cocooning him like a caterpillar works, too.”

I nodded, “Okay. I can do this.”

They slapped my back, smiling, “Goddamn right. Just remember to avoid the whole being kidnapped-and-vivisected thing unless he brings it up.”

I nodded. This felt very similar to Sean’s situation.

I could only hope Caspian looked nothing like my son.