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In a windowless hospital room, a man named Derek Hutchins has been conscious for twenty-four hours. Conscious meaning non-comatose, dreamless, able to be woken if prompted. Over the past day, he has been prompted exactly 51 times:
15x Avery moving out of his reach
24x DMS agents shining a light into his eyes
8x brain scans and short cognition tests in which he is asked about Hastur
2x DMS agents taking blood samples
1x fire alarm(?)
1x Avery having a nightmare
All of these things register only barely, save for the last, which prompts a little more from Derek in the form of a hug and a plea to return to sleep. It’s like he’s catching up on months of rest, pulled into a dark corner of his own brain to shelter from the storm, blanket-safe from the monsters. He clutches onto this feeling of safety, aware that there is something waiting just outside the edge of his vision to swallow him whole. A figure behind the door, footsteps blocking the crack of light.
He feels the blanket being ripped from him and, for the 52nd time, he is pulled from mindless sleep back into the harsh hospital room of the DMS facility. His hands grasp to keep hold of whatever was comforting him.
They clutch onto Avery.
“Avery has to go now,” his least-favourite DMS agent – the one with the penlight that hurts his eyes – says.
Derek feels like he’s woken up halfway through a very important conversation. He tries to recall anything he might have overheard and internalised in his sleep, but his brain provides a useless slurry of half-facts:
Studies by Charles Simon and William Emmons in the 1950s showed that subjects learned no new information that was presented whilst asleep (discrediting earlier theories around the potential of ‘sleep learning’) – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was inspired by a dream that she, young and wild and alight with grief and invention, had of a medical student standing over a reanimated corpse – Avery is being taken away from Us – Researchers from the Netherlands Institute for Neuroscience and the University of Lausanne in 2025 discovered a ‘wave’ of activity in the brains of 1,000 research participants upon waking, with those waking from REM sleep experiencing faster waves of brain activity.
A voice that is not entirely his scratches its way out of his throat. “Avery isn’t going anywhere,” it says. Derek’s hand grabs on harder.
Desperate to understand what is going on around him, Derek tries to mentally describe what he can see, as though putting words to the overstimulating mass of bright shapes around him will help contextualise it in his mind. Avery is sitting up on the bed next to him. He looks down and sees that his fingernails that are pushing down, pulling at the skin of Avery’s arm and drawing blood that pools underneath Derek’s ring finger. Is he… hurting him? Can he let go?
“It’s okay,” Avery lays a hand over Derek’s. “I’m not going anywhere. I already gave one of them a black eye when they tried to take me away earlier.”
Derek looks at Avery desperately. “Explain,” he says.
“They want to wipe my memory and send me back now you’re awake. I told them to fuck off. I’m not leaving you, I promise.”
A screech begins in Derek’s ears, rising right up to the crown of his head. It’s worse than any migraine he’s ever had and tears him from his senses, blinding him as it pierces through his skull. All he can do is grab onto Avery even harder, so afraid to lose him that the guilt about hurting him doesn’t even register as an accessible emotion.
“No!” He shouts. His voice is as loud as the screaming in his ears. He hears something large and glass shatter in the room. He repeats himself, his voice deeper and surer than it has ever sounded before.
The first recorded instance of ventriloquism was Eurykles of Athens, whose ‘belly speaking’ convinced others that he was a prophet – The human body is capable of something known as ‘hysterical strength’ when under immense pressure, though this phenomenon has been attributed to more than just adrenaline; namely, trance and possession – Faithful Knight, I will not allow Us to be apart from him –
“Hey, look at me,” Avery’s voice grounds Derek, but instead of meeting his eye contact, Derek looks down to see that he has clawed a significant wound into Avery’s arm. “Don’t look at that, look at me.”
Derek does so, loosening but not removing his grip.
“Good. See? It’s fine. I’m still here,” Avery says, shooting a mean glare at the DMS agent, who is now frantically taking measurements from the machines charting Derek’s vitals. He gets their attention by waving his free hand. “Hey, you,” he says. “Get Constance in here. She’s the only one of you with any sense.”
Rolling their eyes, the DMS agent presses a few buttons on their pager before returning to their work monitoring the activity spike. Soon after, an older woman enters the room.
Derek recognises her as the only DMS agent who has never poked or prodded him; the one administering the cognitive tests. She’s wearing a pantsuit instead of a lab coat like the others, and from the brief interactions they’ve had, she seems primarily interested in establishing some line of communication with Hastur and only secondarily in his wellbeing. He doesn’t trust her one bit, but Avery smiles when she enters and greets her like an old friend.
“Can you do something about these guys, Constance?” He says, bold and confident and – frankly – brilliant. “You know I’m a nice cooperative guy. The whole kidnapping thing really brought us together. Let’s fake my death and I can stay here. Pinky promise I won’t give any more of your staff a black eye. I’ll even clean the place for you, free of charge. See – beneficial to all. I’m a great janitor.”
Constance looks from the smashed glass window behind her, to Derek, to Avery, to the other DMS agent, and then back to Avery. A slight smile, forced down by professionalism, lifts her mouth.
“Interesting,” she says, looking over at the monitors that Derek is hooked up to but cannot see. She speaks only to her fellow staff member. “And this is when we mentioned taking Avery away?”
They confer more quietly for a moment before Constance turns to Avery. Derek watches her plaster a false smile on her face. Now more awake and aware of the infinite knowledge contained in scattered pieces across his mind, he can see the sinister buzz of branching paths around her. She chooses bad things in many lifetimes. But Avery – smiling right back at her – is so gentle with a world that has displayed more than enough cruelty to make him jaded. Derek looks at him and sees no past, no future. Just a warm, safe present.
“You’re right, Avery,” Constance smiles, gesturing with her head towards Derek. “It makes sense for all of us to keep you around. We don’t want to cause any… undue stress during what is anticipated to be a difficult recovery. I’m sure we can make you comfortable somewhere onsite.”
“Thank you,” Avery says – tell him not to be so naïve.
Derek pushes down the cruel impulse and instead says, “I have conditions.”
“Oh?” Constance turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “And what conditions would they be?”
Derek falters. He’s not actually sure, but he knows he needs to establish some level of control over the situation now.
Clearly having picked up on his impaired state, Constance smiles like she’s taking pity on him and turns back to Avery. “Naturally, you’ll both be subject to strict conditions. Neither of you possess the clearance level to know as much as you do about the DMS in general to be allowed back into society without a memory wipe, so you’ll have to be confined here. Don’t worry – our facilities are extensive. We have a few long-term residents.”
Avery squeezes his hand. “What do you think?” He asks.
“You’d have to give up your whole life,” Derek says. “I want you here, but-”
“You gave up your life for me. And I don’t really have much.”
“No,” Derek says. Though the dog is the first animal domesticated by humans (with some estimates dating the symbiotic relationship back as far as 33,000 years), some have argued that human relationships with animals that may be considered ‘parasites’ by modern standards, such as dung beetles, that require no domestication and are merely mutually beneficial due to living in close proximity to one another, predate even this – His reasons are not Our concern. Derek ignores this. “It can’t be a debt. I can’t do that to you.”
“I want to be here,” Avery leans forwards, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be out there without you. I’ll agree to any conditions you ask for.”
“I want Avery to stay here until I can leave hospital,” Derek demands, looking at Constance.
“Can’t be done,” she shakes her head. “We need to run far too many tests, and you need to focus on physical rehabilitation without any distractions. He can visit for an hour each evening on the condition that you comply with everything required of you.”
“Two hours,” Avery counters. “C’mon, Connie. I’ll bring dinner for us all.”
“I can agree to two hours,” Constance says.
“What about you, Derek?” Avery asks.
“I suppose. How long before I can leave, then?”
“We can’t say. It won’t be tomorrow, that’s for sure. It all depends on how much you’re willing to work for it. Starting now.”
She stands up, motioning for Avery to join her. Derek’s heart begins to beat faster as a full-body sense of dread – the kind that occasionally accompanies a blood transfusion and is the body’s way of saying that something is about to go very wrong – takes over. His vision blurs as he is presented with a potential future where all of this is just a con to get Avery away from him and wipe his mind anyway.
“Proof of life,” he gasps. “I need proof of life.”
Avery takes Derek’s hand with a smile as he stands up. “Trust me. I said I wasn’t leaving, so I’m not.” He leans in and whispers, “I’ve got this.”
With all of his infinite knowledge, Derek knows that Avery is more than capable. But trusting anything in his current situation feels impossible, especially with an itch in his hand like something is trying to puppet it and keep Avery here.
“I’ll see you soon,” Avery says. “I promise.”
They must have sedated him, because he doesn’t remember letting Avery leave. Derek’s mind fogs with fear and he loses his presence within his body. Thankfully, right now the only thing that is required of him is compliance. DMS agents move his legs and arms, detach him from the majority of the IVs and machines, and clean him up without any protest. He’s finally assisted to change out of the hospital gown into a pair of loose pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Logically, he knows that to fight the agents manoeuvring his body would be to prolong his agonising wait in the in-between, and he wants the time to pass the way it does when he is asleep. He wants to do nothing and think of nothing until Avery is by his side again, at which point he might finally be able to put the thoughts of their permanent separation out of his mind.
Unfortunately, he is not allowed to sleep. He notices that his arms are no longer being held up by people, but instead by a pair of crutches, and he is leaning against the wall. Across the room, Constance is sitting on one side of a desk, gesturing towards an empty chair opposite her.
Physiologic atrophy occurs when a person doesn’t use their muscles enough to avoid them wasting away – Right now, Our right leg is smaller than Our left; Our dehydrated muscles have shrivelled – A Knight must serve his King no matter how harsh his wound – You must move Us –
Derek’s leg juts forward and he almost stumbles to the ground. Constance doesn’t flinch, let alone stand up to assist him. The other DMS agents hover carefully around him but similarly, they do not intervene. Gritting his teeth, he hauls himself up and leans on his arms to balance himself as he walks to the seat that could have just as easily been placed on the closer side of the room.
When he slumps down into it, the exhaustion pulls at his spine.
“Good work, Derek,” Constance says.
“I want to see Avery,” he demands.
“You’ll see Avery once we’ve run some cognitive tests.”
“I need to know he’s okay.”
“Interesting,” she takes a dictaphone from her pocket and places it on the table between them. “Subject cannot access his infinite knowledge to determine the fate of his friend Avery.”
“Fate?” Derek questions. “What have you done?”
“Evident paranoia,” she continues. One of the DMS agents from earlier hands her a portable monitor. “Brain activity spiking in the left hemisphere with similar characteristics to earlier mentions of Avery.”
“I’m right here!” Derek slams his hand on the table. “The least you can do is wait until I’m not around to talk about me like I’m not a person.”
“If I’m not mistaken, the least we could have done for you is left you paralysed and suffering immense bleeding to the brain on the floor of your apartment.”
“I’m not so sure,” Derek huffs. “Can we get this over with? I want to see Avery.”
Constance hands the brain activity monitor back to the DMS agent and receives a small, leather bound book in return. She runs her hands over the cover with a smile before sliding it across the table to Derek.
He takes it. It feels strangely warm and freshly bound. The leather moves underneath his fingers like it has not yet forgotten how to be skin. It bears no title, author, or cover image.
“All you have to do is read the first few pages,” Constance explains. “And then you can see Avery.”
Greedily, Derek tears the book open and his eyes have no time to protest before landing on the words on the first page – still without title or attribution.
Along the shore the cloud waves break / The twin suns sink behind the lake / The shadows lengthen – You will gain nothing from this / In Carcosa / Strange is the night where – The somatosensory system is a subset of the human nervous system responsible for regulating perceptions of both external and internal stimuli – black stars rise / And strange moons circle through the skies / But stranger still is – This will not serve Us – Lost Carcosa / Songs that the Hyades shall sing – The somatosensory system can trigger in times of trauma to cause a resurgence of pain once experienced / Where flap the tatters of the King – Our mind cannot handle this because You cannot handle this / Must die unheard in –
Derek’s eyes flutter away from the words as a sudden, intense cluster headache overtakes everything from the bridge of his nose upwards. There’s a cap of molten gold on his head and he is scrambling in the dark against a pain that has been lying dormant in his body since he first saw beyond those golden gates. The branches of infinite knowledge carry the constant possibility of trauma re-emerging in another dimension, which now leaves Derek shaking as he falls from the seat to the ground. His shoulder hits the floor and, though the impact hurts much less than the migraine, the feeling still registers. It is impossible to become saturated when pain has learned to fractal around the unreal.
He vaguely hears Constance ordering one of the DMS agents to ‘Fetch him quickly.’
Nobody comes to his aid. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back – Are you satisfied, Knight? – Have you learned?
Derek manages a spiteful smirk. Hastur speaking in relatively easy to process sentences means that Constance’s little experiment must have hurt him, too. It must be one hell of an adjustment for him to be contained within a human mind and restricted by bodily experiences.
The door to the room opens and the pain dulls the moment Derek sees Avery standing there, slightly breathless.
He’s alive. Constance kept her promise.
Derek reaches up and Avery drops down to hug him, burying his face into Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his warm, strong arms around his whole body.
“You’re okay,” Derek breathes.
“You’re not,” Avery mumbles. “What did they do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just some tests. Hastur didn’t like it either. You’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just like I promised.”
Derek closes his eyes as the paranoia slithering across the mass of nerves in his skin eases up slightly. Just having Avery this close is a great comfort. He breathes him in, soft hoodie and light aftershave against Derek’s wet cheek. Has he been crying? Avery rubs his back.
He immediately feels better. His mind calms, and Hastur has little to say. When the DMS agent tries to pull him away, brandishing that godawful penlight again, Derek clings harder onto Avery.
“Fucking hell,” Avery huffs. “Give him a minute, will you?”
He gently lifts Derek’s head. Derek sees that his arm is bandaged and tries to turn away in shame, but Avery will not let him. He smiles until Derek smiles back, then tilts Derek’s face forwards and plants a kiss on his forehead.
“I’m proud of you,” he says. “It won’t be long until you can come home.”
“Home?”
“New home,” Avery says.
“What’s it like?”
“Nicer than my old place, to be honest. The kitchen is pretty big, and there’s a huge pantry downstairs. I was going to cook something to bring you but they came to get me earlier than planned because of… well, you know. They even gave me a little ID card so I can check which areas we can go into. It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be easy to live with,” Derek admits.
“It’s alright,” Avery laughs. “I snore.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I let things expire in the fridge for months.”
“I don’t mind that, either.”
“I leave fingerprints on every single screen I find.”
“I’ll forgive it,” Derek smiles.
“So you’ll have me?”
He nods, tears welling in his eyes. Everything is so painful and scary, and there’s a horrible feeling in the back of his mind that it always will be, but Avery is his port in a storm. It’s quieter around him, and Derek finds himself able to muster the motivation to suffer if it means that one day Avery will take him away. It doesn’t negate the desperate wish in his chest to escape it all, give up control and slip back into the dark corners of his mind to cower under the blankets, but it soothes him slightly. Gives him a small sense of purpose. A little something to look forward to. Dinner and a strange, government-funded home for two.