Pool_2

lonely, sluggish, and almost far away. It wasn't just the mental pummeling of a night of troubled sleep. Dangling raw ends were writhing and beginning to join. Everywhere unresolved apprehensions provoked reflection on the last evening's encounter. He rolled the small enfisted amulet in his fingers unconsciously as he replayed fragments. His hands were feeling large and heavy. Life had gotten out of sync. He was no longer traveling through existence in real time, but accelerating beyond its pace. Reality was going slower or he was thinking faster, deeper, and with ever greater arm's length disconnection. Not since he was slipped a Mickey - since medical school, flailing in restraints on the neuro ward naked as a buck with a hardon that wouldn't quit calling out to an Earth goddess, an image his friends would never allow him to live down - not since then did reality unglue to this degree. Back then, he was a victim. Reality got away, trumped by disconnection. Now, he was its master, turning it mentally, inspecting its every nuance, every angle, seeing invisibles. But what did they mean? How did they relate? Something was wrong. But what? Timing is everything. Perhaps he was attaining a heightened sensitivity. But it was wasted. It didn't take heightened anything to get a jolt at the crippled children's clinic. Something was palpably wrong. Anybody could see that it was way too quiet. Were all of the morning patients out getting x-rays? Was he early? Looking from exam room to exam room, the children who would be vying for the more popular toys were not to be found. Religious holiday? Nnnoo. Any self assurances he might have wished to entertain vaporized as he met Shannon with her face pulled downward as though it were yanked, imparting a harsh grimace which set off a harsher wheezing despair. " There are inspectors here! They're combing our charts!" "Boogers? So? We keep better records than anybody." Mac said with ease. That