The hum of the psych lab seemed to amplify, a high-pitched whine that mirrored the tension coiled within me. The image of Cutie, the mad logic of his self-proclaimed divinity saving us all despite himself, lingered. Calvin, her face an impassive mask carved from granite, fixed me with her unwavering gaze, the silence stretching, "Now, Mr. Weston, I would appreciate your considered assessment of this particular anomaly.

## What will you do?