Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Mind Of A Killer (Part 1)
With a rough but solid plan now set, Don felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew executing it wouldn't be easy, but having a plan lessened the worry he felt.
He moved the two sheets of paper away from his face before folding them neatly until they could fit in the palm of his hand.
While they were like this, he placed them into the drawer, at the very bottom of a rim of paper. 'Not the best hiding place, but I can't really trust keeping things digitally for now.'
Now that he was done writing, Don walked toward the window and peeked through a small space to see what was happening in the backyard. But it was still just Summer and her friend, talking about the same topic until now.
Don moved away and just sighed while shaking his head. 'Well now isn't a good time to go downstairs. Might as well keep busy by trying out one of the things on the schedule ahead of time. I doubt I'll be able to even follow it fully with how busy I might become.'
With no interest in acting like a mediator for the conflict downstairs, Don took out his phone and looked at his schedule, trying to see what he could try to pass the time.
He initially thought some reading would suffice, but as he was scrolling, he paused to look at the Mental Conditioning for two hours set for 6 pm sharp.
'Well, it's almost 6 pm, so might as well,' Don muttered before retrieving his aviators and an earbud.
Once he had them, he immediately activated his augmented reality and Gary Assist.
["Good evening, sir. How may I be of assistance?"] it asked as the default tabs in the augmented reality appeared in front of Don.
It still felt strange to do, but he was beginning to get used to it. "I'd like to try out the mental conditioning exercises scheduled for 6 pm tomorrow, just to get a feel of what I should expect."
["I see. If that is your wish then it's no problem at all. However, I must warn you that some of these mental simulations can be very taxing on the mind and may affect your mental health significantly if you're not able enough."]
The warning did cause Don to stop and think for a moment, but there was no use. It wasn't like he could cheat his way to the rewards of the exercises, as far as he was concerned.
So after a brief moment of silence, he answered, "Well, there's only one way to find out. Whether I find out today or tomorrow makes no difference."
["Understood, sir. In that case, may I suggest that you retrieve the associated visor lenses from your packed optics case? After you wear the lenses and feel no discomfort, proceed to the bed. Remove any hazardous items from close proximity and then lay on the bed flat on your back."]
Don already began to walk toward the dresser next to his bed as Gary Assist started talking. He retrieved the optics case where he put his aviators and removed the contact lenses kept in a separate smaller compartment of the same case.
After quickly wearing them and adjusting them into place, he began to remove things from atop the dressers and placed them on the desk.
Once done with that, he took off his shirt and belt, remaining only in his pants. After this, he lay down on the bed before speaking again, "Alright, I'm in position, what now?"
["Simply wear the other earbud so that you can create an environment devoid of external auditory stimuli. The exercise demands concentration and so anytime you open your eyelids or move your body, the exercise stops and will be considered a failure. The goal is to remain immersed in whatever you are seeing and hearing."]
"When you put it like that, it sounds like watching a really interactive movie," Don commented, feeling a little less worried to begin.
But Gary Assist maintained the warning. ["In a way, it is. Only far more stimulating. Please remain vigilant and willful, sir. Beginning simulation now."]
———
The exercise initiated, and the world around Don felt like it shifted.
Don found himself sitting at a small, cozy dining table, a delicious meal spread out before him. Across the table sat a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, his expression weary and worn.
"Man, this week has been rough," the man said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Work has been relentless, and I barely had any time to rest."
Don felt himself nodding, though the motion was not his own. He tried to look around, to take in the surroundings, but his vision remained fixed, his head locked into place.
The man continued, "It's just been one thing after another. You know how it is."
"Yeah, I get it," Don found himself responding, his voice calm and understanding. "Sometimes it feels like the whole world is against you."
He could feel the empathy in his own voice, the genuine interest in the man's troubles. Yet, a sense of unease began to creep in.
The man took another sip of his drink, then paused, a puzzled look crossing his face. "I suddenly feel... weird," he said, his words slurring slightly. "I usually don't get drunk this fast."
His smile faded, replaced by a look of growing concern. He glanced at Don, or rather, the man whose perspective Don was watching. "What did you d—"
Before he could finish, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed forward, his head hitting the table with a dull, bone-jarring thud.
Don's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to move, but stopped himself. His perspective unfazed as the man continued to eat while humming a lullaby.
"Hush little baby, don't you cry,
Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby.
And if that lullaby sounds wrong,
Mama's gonna sing it all night long."
The melody he used was haunting, filling the air with an eerie dissonance.
The man finished his meal slowly, savoring each bite as if he had all the time in the world. The room felt colder, the shadows deeper, as the song droned on.
"And if that lullaby turns to screams,
Mama's gonna show you what it means.
And if those screams don't scare you right,
Mama's gonna hold you tight all night."
Finally, he set down his utensils with a delicate clink, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up. The silence that followed was oppressive. With calmness, he picked up a fork and walked around the table to where the unconscious man lay, his breathing shallow and ragged.