Archive of Our Own ^beta

They ask him to put all the items he arrived with into a blue plastic tub.

Phil would know that's a red flag, even if he hadn't been briefed beforehand on exactly what he's dealing with. Not to mention literally over a decade of his life has been devoted to researching this cult. And cults in general. When Phil got his degree in psychology, he wrote his thesis on doomsday cults specifically. They're fascinating to him.

But he has to remind himself that this is not some research outing. This is serious.

"You can get changed in your room," the man in charge of his arrival says. "There will be a schedule in there too. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask the other members."

"Will do," Phil says, approximating a fragile smile. He avoids the man's gaze, trying to appear apprehensive, or nervous.

Phil never considered himself the best actor, but this is something he can do. He knows how cults operate, so he has a firm grasp on the sort of people they prey on as their victims. Phil made sure his fake identity hit all the marks. He is posing as a single man of middle age with no family and very few friends, who just moved across the country and thus has no support network. He came up with a background for himself - a difficult childhood, dropped out of school, mental health issues he never got help for - and pretended to be stuck in a dead-end job before the cult took him in. The type of person who is plagued by loneliness, desperation, lacking a purpose in life.

All that and one more thing. Anger.

The Blood God's Chosen is a cult that believes so thoroughly that the end of the world is inevitable and that modern society is deeply corrupted, that they have circled through all the stages of grief straight into acceptance. They seek members who have that same spark of fury inside them, who feel slighted by others somehow. Those in whom they can nurture that spark into a destructive flame. And who thus see no issue turning over all their worldly possessions and live in service of the cult. A cult that is convinced the Blood God will revive to bring vengeance and cut out the rotten core of humanity.

And when that happens, the chosen ones who are on the right side of history will inherit what rises from the ashes.

Phil knows how fucking ridiculous it sounds, an eldritch god that will purge humanity? The belief is like something out of a fairy tale or horror movie. But again, as somebody versed in the history of cults and how they form, how they lure people in, he can't blame the members on the lower end of the hierarchy for trusting the gospel. They are also being taken advantage of.

The leaders is who he has to look out for. Odds are only a few of them genuinely believe their own preachings. Most are manipulative bastards that saw an opportunity to exert control over others to make a profit.

The 'room' Phil is assigned to feels more like a dorm, uncomfortably bringing him back to his college days. The walls are an off-white colour matching the sheets on each of the four beds. There is a window, but it's firmly closed. The cult doesn't literally prevent their members from leaving, though Phil feels trapped all the same.

"You're the new guy?" a voice asks from behind him. He turns, looking at the man. He's tall, lanky, with black hair and eyes that are a bright green colour.

"I'm the new guy," Phil says, extending his arm for a handshake. "I'm Phil."

The man takes it, his grip unpleasantly cold. "Ender."

Ender is wearing the same simple clothes that are waiting for Phil on the bed, though he has a strange insignia pinned to his chest. The shape of an eye, resting over his heart.

A symbol granted to the higher-ranking members who have been in the cult for over a year.

"You shouldn't waste too much time. All initiates are expected in the kitchen to help make supper," Ender adds. "We're a close-knit community. We help each other."

"That's a nice change of pace," Phil says with a nod. Ender smiles thinly, the tepid warmth of it not really reaching his eyes. "I'll get changed then."

Ender steps out while he does that. Phil rubs his fingers over the linen pants and shirt that have been provided. The clothes are simple aside from some embroidery done in a blood red thread that stands out against the off-white fabric. All the seams are that color, plus a simple design on the bottom hem of the shirt. The pattern reminds Phil of little blood drops, clinging to the edges.

When he's done, Ender is waiting for him in front of the cabin. There are four more identical buildings, all small and grouped together. Each cabin contains four dorms, each dorm contains four beds. That means there could be up to eighty initiates if they're all occupied. More experienced members and leaders have their own quarters.

Phil's main goal here is to map out the commune and give a rough indicator of how many people there are. The cops already have evidence of criminal activity from this religious group. But to prevent innocent deaths when they breach and try to arrest those responsible, they need to know where the group has weapons and what each building is. And to do that, they need somebody on the inside. They tried to contact former members who left the cult first but couldn't find any that were still alive and willing to be a mole. So Phil is a bit of a last resort to prevent casualties.

"Come along," Ender says, still friendly enough though some gruffness slips into his tone. Phil doesn't like him. He feels like Ender is probably forced to oversee new members against his will while he'd rather be doing anything else. Phil isn't exactly keen on having some guy shadow him either, but he understands why they can't let somebody who moved in today wander around freely. The compound is huge and remote, not to mention entirely self-sufficient.

Ender starts to lead him toward a larger communal building near the middle of the property. It's almost like a summer camp. Phil remembers going to a place somewhat similar as a kid, even if camping with a bunch of other elementary schoolers is very different from being a member of a cult. The Blood God's Chosen are completely cut off from the outside world and rarely proclaim their beliefs to the public aside from on the internet, where they find their victims on specific forums. They have a disdain for government, law enforcement, and other organized religions.

Inside the canteen, Phil is ushered into the kitchen, where several more people are at work. Ender kind of abandons him as soon as they enter, since the man walks out again. Great. Phil looks around. He has no fucking clue how to approach this.

Thankfully somebody takes pity on his 'deer in the headlights' expression.

"Oh, do you need help?" The young woman who asked smiles at him, instantly coming across as more sincere than anybody else Phil has met here so far. She's an initiate like Phil based on her clothing.

"Hopefully? I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to be doing," Phil says.

She laughs. "First day? Here, how about you help me pour the soup." She shows him over to the counter, where a large iron cast pot of soup stands waiting with chipped porcelain bowls next to it. Phil joins her in using a ladle to fill the bowls.

"I'm Phil, by the way," he tells her.

"Niki," the woman introduces herself. Her hair is dark brown, except for two pieces that frame her round face which are bleached almost white. She can't be much older than twenty.

"How long have you been here, Niki?"

"Only a week," she answers. "It's been uh… It's been interesting."

"Interesting?" Phil echoes.

"Yeah, they do kind of leave you to your own devices, don't they?" Niki says. "The community supports each other, but they want every member to be independent too. It's nice, but scary. Where I came from that's…" She trails off and shakes her head. "Never mind. It's nice."

Phil decides not to pry. The circumstances that brought Niki here couldn't have been good. They rarely are for people who get snared into cults. He pours the soup in silence for a few seconds, enough to make his next words feel more neutral. "You don't find that a lot anymore. People helping each other out, I mean."

Niki nods. "Everybody here has been so kind. You can rely on your roommates too if you need something. I'm staying in cabin two."

"Really? Me too." No segregation based on gender then. Interesting. An unusual feature for cults so Phil takes note of it. "We can help each other out then."

"Yes, of course," Niki nods with a grin.

When all the bowls are filled, they are put on trays and Phil follows Niki in carrying them out of the kitchen into the canteen area itself. This is the first time Phil properly gets an idea of how many people The Blood God's Chosen have managed to gather in their compound. He counts about fifty, which is not as bad as he feared at first, yet still more than some other cults that fizzle out on their own without posing a threat. Without police intervention, if this group of fanatics is allowed to grow, a tragedy feels almost inevitable. He also has to keep in mind not everybody might be in the canteen right now. There are tables empty. Maybe higher ranking members do not eat with the crowd, people could be out traveling, and the cult has members that do not live within the community either. Like Phil did for a while before being invited.

He sits between Niki and a nervous, elderly man whose eyes keep darting around. Small talk comes haltingly, with Phil noticing everybody seems to be looking at others to gauge what to do and say. It makes sense since they're all new initiates. One day, you're living a relatively normal life out in the world and the next you're in a commune where every member is supposed to believe a vengeful god is destined to weed out humanity.

A loud ringing makes the room fall into complete, almost unnatural silence. Phil realizes the sound is coming from a bell near the front of the room. The brass quivers a moment longer before the person who hit it gently puts their hand against the instrument to cut off the single, resonant note.

Then they do it again. And again. And again. The wait between each ring grows shorter, the sound echoing against the walls. Voices hum beneath the ruckus, between the bell's rhythmic cadence. But they're too hushed to make out - mere whispers. Next to him, Phil barely catches the words coming from Niki's lightly moving lips.

"One of us. One of us. One of us."

After a few minutes, the ringing stops.

"A new voice joined us today," the leader who was hitting the bell says. "We are happy to bring Phil into the chorus." The man gestures at Phil, who awkwardly stands up and waves at the too many eyes suddenly aimed at him. Fucking awkward as hell. He sits down as soon as he is able. The leader continues, "Lately, our community has been growing at a higher rate than what we're used to. This is but a symptom of the infection we are all aware of plagues humanity. The end might be close. We ask that all of you focus on performing your duties to the best of your abilities in the coming weeks, and we will get through this… together."

"One of us," Niki says, as does every other person in the room. Well, except Phil. Not his fault nobody briefed him on the creepy chanting he's apparently supposed to partake in.

He helps clear the plates and such back to the kitchen, but a lot of other people are already on dishwashing duty, so Phil decides to step back out and try to socialize a bit more. This time, small talk comes easier and he manages to get some much-needed information on how daily life in the commune goes before he notices Ender striding towards him from across the room.

"It's late," Ender says. He puts his hand on Phil's shoulder without asking, and Phil barely suppresses an unpleasant shudder at the touch. "Since it's your first day, I'm supposed to escort you back to your room."

"Oh," Phil says. "It's not that late, is it?" Outside, the sun is barely setting. Other initiates and members are still loitering, some of them playing games or reading or otherwise occupying themselves in small groups.

But Ender frowns slightly. Ah, right, he hates having to put up with Phil. Better not push his luck.

"Though I guess I'm kind of tired," Phil adds. "Lead the way."

Ender does just that, leaving the brightness and warmth of the communal building behind them in favor of the dusky twilight outside. Phil looks up, noticing the hundreds of stars dotted in the sky. You don't get a sight that pretty in the big city. Phil likes where he lives, but light pollution is the bane of his existence. If nothing else, he got to enjoy a clear view of the night sky for the first time in ages.

"I hope your first evening has been a pleasant one?" Ender asks, making Phil face forward again.

"It's been welcoming," Phil says. "I can feel I've found where I belong."

Ender's lip quirks upward once, but he seems to approve of the answer.

Then Phil notices something that immediately draws his interest. Another group of people is walking across the outside area, heading from one of the buildings Phil hasn't been able to tell what it is yet toward the back of the commune. There are four adults, all of them dressed in fancier clothes that indicate their long time of being part of the cult. But between them, flanked on all sides, is a child.

A young boy, seemingly no older than eight or nine years old.

This catches Phil by surprise for two reasons. The first is that as far as any of their information indicated, The Blood God's Chosen is not the type of cult to take in families or anybody with children. If anything, they detest the very notion. They target people with little to no connections or personal relationships, so most of the members are not tied down. And having relationships of a romantic or sexual nature is against the rules. The cult is about a decade old though, so it's possible this child was born to a member before these rules were established.

The second, even stranger thing that Phil notices is that the boy is wearing a blindfold.

One of the members leading the boy catches Phil staring and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder, leading him along faster. Ender looks over at Phil and clicks his tongue, snapping Phil's attention back.

"Who was that?" he asks, unable to not let his curiosity get the better of him.

"The Conduit," Ender says. "You shouldn't concern yourself with him."

"You're calling that child a conduit?" Phil asks. "Why was he blindfolded?"

"To prevent him from being tainted by observing the outside world. Not that it matters to you."

"Why though?"

Ender stops moving, sudden enough that Phil only barely keeps himself from walking into him. Ender does not turn around, does not face him when he speaks. But his voice is grave, laced with poison.

"You shall not concern yourself with him. Understood?"

Every inch of Phil wants to protest. What the fuck is going on here and why is Ender acting like he's at fault for thinking that having a blindfolded child around is suspicious as all hell. But at the last second, reason wins over impulsiveness. And he can't blow his cover.

"Understood" Phil says, tight jawed.

But the image won't leave him. Long after Phil is tucked into bed, he's thinking about the child. The 'conduit', whatever the fuck that means. He can't remember reading anything in his research about that aspect of The Blood God's Chosen, so he can only assume they kept it a closely guarded secret. Phil doesn't know what exactly it means. Just that it can't be anything good.

And that he won't feel at peace until he can get to the bottom of this.

---

The following day, Phil concentrates on what he was actually tasked by the police to do.

The schedule that he was told about turns out to be a rough timetable of when food will be prepared and served, as well as when congregations take place. Aside from the cooking, a task solely performed by lower initiates for some reason, no chores are assigned.

The Blood God's Chosen value individuality. Since a disillusionment with governmental control and a lack of freedom in society is one of the pivotal points within the rhetoric of the cult, Phil isn't surprised that a fake modicum of freedom is presented to its members. But at the end of the day, many cults - many organized religions in general - still revolve around control. There are other ways to exert said control outside of literally limiting choice.

As long as the initiates make themselves useful, they might freely spend their time during the so vaguely named 'working hours' on the schedule.

If nothing else, it allows Phil the opportunity to flit from place to place, talking with various people and staking out the layout of the compound. He has a fair idea of what a lot of the buildings are by now, and interacted with members of different ranks.

He can't shake the feeling that there are eyes on him at all times. All activities are more or less overseen by more experienced members, who under the thin veneer of helping newer members find their way can keep things in check. If anybody should act out of line, they can swiftly be pulled aside. Phil makes sure to not do anything too overtly suspect. The plan has always been for him to only stay for a few days. Gather the info he needed, then either come up with an excuse to get back into town or worse come to worse, sneak out under the cover of night.

But part of him is hoping to see the boy again.

Not only is it hard for Phil to shake that the boy's presence could be important, since again, usually there are no children among The Blood God's Chosen, it's also normal for him to worry about a child being ensnared in something as dangerous as a cult. Phil didn't like the words Ender used to describe it either. 'Conduit' had a strange ring to it.

Because outright asking about it feels risky, Phil instead decides to check out the building the boy was brought out of and the one he was headed toward.

The first seems to be a shed with some random crap inside, and nothing noteworthy about it aside from the windows being covered in dark plastic, taped carefully so not even a sliver of light can pass through. The shed is dusty and cluttered with tools of all kinds. The middle is cleared of any items, with the vague outline of a few chalk drawings that remain visible against the wooden floorboards. There are also patches of something rust-colored hurriedly wiped away.

Blood?

The feeling that rises within Phil is even more uneasy now.

And that only gets worse when he realizes he has no chance of approaching the building the boy was brought to last night. Not while there are people loitering outside at all times, not quite standing guard but certainly keen enough not to let anybody approach unaware to them. Phil supposes it could be as simple as this being the living quarters of the most important members, but something feels off.

The first day he doesn't act. The second day, he can't help himself. Despite knowing he shouldn't and he's endangering the entire mission, Phil waits until the moon is bright outside and the quiet snoring of his roommates is the only thing piercing the silence of the night. Then he quietly gets out of bed, avoiding the already familiar creaking plank on the threshold.

He steps outside, breathing in the chilly air of late October. One foot down the small staircase that leads from the cabin's entrance to the dirt below, he hears the door open behind him.

"Where are you going?' Ender asks.

Phil cringes, shoulders pulling up to his ears. He manages to play it off as being startled - and honestly, he was. Who the fuck sneaks up on people like that? He turns to face Ender, the other man's eyes seemingly glowing in the dimness of the night and his backlit silhouette.

Ender sleeps in the same cabin as the initiates he's meant to oversee. And he's one perceptive bastard.

"Just heading to the bathroom," Phil says.

Ender doesn't reply right away. Phil assumes he is trying to judge the truthfulness of his statement. Since the cabins themselves do not have bathrooms, people are usually pretty good about taking care of that business during the evening so they don't need to get up in the middle of the night.

Eventually, Ender sighs and steps forward. "Fine. Let me walk you."

"I know where it is," Phil says.

"It's dangerous to wander off alone this late," Ender explains simply, already taking the lead again as he outpaces Phil slightly. "We're rather remote and all kinds of wildlife lurk in these woods."

Phil can't help but scoff. "You guys often get attacked by animals while heading for a piss?"

Scowling at the crudeness of his words, Ender shakes his head. "No, but I wouldn't want you to be the first. Like I said, in this community, we look after each other. If you don't get that, maybe you don't fit in here."

Phil decides not to respond.

---

"How have you been feeling about… this place?"

Phil is not a gambling man, usually. He's more of a calculated-risk guy in small doses. Or he tries to be very aware of his own limitations, at least. So he doesn't exceed them.

He can't stay much longer though. He's supposed to have sent back some kind of message to the police about how he's faring in here soon, or they'll think something terrible happened to him and come in guns blazing. Well, not literally. Hopefully not literally. All the same.

Time is running out for Phil to learn exactly what this 'conduit' thing is about.

He has noticed Niki's reluctance. She's new like him, she seems rather reserved and often chooses activities that do not require her to interact with other members. Phil can see that the cult has not wholly convinced her, maybe she took the invitation on a whim. Maybe she was going through her darkest day when she came here and now she's having second thoughts. Whatever the reason, Phil knows she's the one person he might be able to trust with this.

And that is shown in the way she glances around slowly, seeing that Phil approached her at a time when there are no prying eyes and ears around. Just the two of them in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for later.

"I don't know," Niki says.

Phil made a winning bet. "You can still back out, you know."

"Maybe," Niki says. "Where else can I go?"

"Anywhere you feel better than here."

"I don't think such a place exists," she says with a sad little chuckle.

"I'm just saying there are other options," Phil answers.

Her hand shakes where it's holding the knife. Once more, she turns her head, checking again that the kitchen is empty. Then, low, so quiet Phil almost doesn't hear it she asks, "You don't believe in the Blood God, do you?"

Phil swallows.

"No," he says. "I don't."

He waits, but Niki continues peeling her potatoes with a soft noise. Contemplative, uncertain. Not disdain so Phil will take it.

"Do you?" he asks.

"I'm not sure."

"If you do want to leave, I can help."

If he's wrong and Niki is one hell of an actor, Phil is screwed. Like, not even a little bit.

But Niki nods, a fragile smile on her face. She rubs her sleeve over her eyes and resumes her work as if nothing happened. Phil leans closer.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I wonder if you could do me a favor."

---

Phil takes back what he said. Niki is one hell of an actor. He has never seen anybody so convincingly fake a medical emergency before.

But the plan goes off without a hitch, and Ender is forced to leave the cabin in the middle of the night so he can escort Niki to get help. Phil counts to a hundred, just to make sure they're far enough gone, before he slips out of bed, into his shoes, and sneaks out.

The building he approaches is like a dark monolith. He saw it before, but it didn't sink in back then how it's tucked away at the very back edge of the property, close to the metal fence that cradles the compound on three sides. It's also much smaller than it seemed from a distance, barely bigger than the shed. Up close, Phil can see that all the windows of this cabin are covered with heavy blackout curtains. He slides up to the door, expecting it to be locked. He also wonders if there could be people inside. Will him opening the door immediately lead to him being caught?

Phil is no gambling man, but sometimes curiosity leaves him no choice. Let's just hope the cat survives this particular excursion.

He turns the handle and the door opens.

The inside is… empty. Nothing more than a bare room with a small cot pushed into one corner, and a bundle of blankets lying on it in a heap. Phil leaves the door open as he takes a step inside, since there are no lights and all the windows are covered, making it very hard to see. As he does so, a small gasp rings out from the cot.

The boy is looking at him with wide, blue eyes.

"Is it time already?" the boy asks, wavering. Phil quickly rushes over and kneels next to the bed.

"No, no, you're fine. That's not what I'm here for."

His words seem to flip a switch and instantly the boy relaxes. Phil doesn't dare ask what the boy thought it was time for. Nothing good, surely, if his reaction was one of pure fear.

"You shouldn't be here," the boy says. "You'll get us both in trouble."

"I'm one of the new members," Phil says. "My name is Phil. What's yours?"

A dithering breath or two comes before the boy responds. "Techno," he says.

"Techno, can you tell me why my being here will get us in trouble?"

"They should have told you," Techno says, looking annoyed. Phil wants to smile at the small pout that bunches up the boy's cheeks, his childish annoyance almost endearingly out of place in such a serious situation. "Nobody is supposed to talk to me. Except for Chat."

"Who is Chat?" Phil asks.

"Those that receive the Blood God's messages," Techno says with a roll of his eyes, seemingly flabbergasted that Phil doesn't know this.

"What happens if other people talk to you?"

Techno's mouth snaps shuts. He scowls. "You're not really one of the chosen, are you?"

Fuck. Phil got ahead of himself. "I'm somebody that wants to help."

"If you want to help, get out before we both get in trouble," Techno insists again. He pushes himself back against the wall, curling up tighter on the cot. The blankets cover his lap, but Phil notices the clothes he's wearing are elaborate. A white garment that reminds Phil of an ancient Greek toga, but with so much red embroidery it never leaves more than a few inches bare from elaborate patterns. Techno's long hair is braided, with pretty ribbons of white and red woven through the strands. He is wearing an outfit usually reserved for somebody who has been in this cult since the very start.

Or somebody who was born into it.

"Techno," Phil tries.

"Get out before you taint me!" Techno hisses louder.

Then he covers his ears with his hands and closes his eyes, insistent on shutting Phil out completely. The beds of his fingernails are stained pink.

"I'm going, I'm going," Phil says quickly. "Please don't tell anybody I was here."

Techno ignores him, muttering under his breath some kind of chant or plea Phil can't hear. The encounter leaves Phil more unsatisfied and worried than before, but he also can't linger. He already has to cope with the fact that if Techno does tell one of the other members that he visited, Phil might be in more serious trouble than he can even imagine.

Why then, as he walks back to his cabin still guarded by the stillness of night, does Phil feel like he won't be able to leave unless he can take that poor boy with him?

"Did something happen last night?"

Techno's breath hitches at the question, and he's glad that his back is facing Chat. His eyes dart around, using the excuse of finishing up his drawing for a moment of respite, a few extra seconds to come up with an answer. He didn't think it would be this noticeable.

"I thought I heard something," Techno says eventually. Because he cannot lie. Both in the sense that he is no good at it and that he shouldn't be doing something unjust. Lying is bad. Techno lying to Chat is worse.

"Heard something?" the man behind him echoes softly. Techno swallows, lifting his chalk away from the floor.

"Outside. An animal, maybe. It scared me."

A hand settles on his shoulder, squeezing. "There should be no fear in your heart. Only blood."

Warm, sticky on his fingers. Only blood. Blood for the deity who protects them. Techno bites his bottom lip and nods. Chat allows him to continue the ritual until he is done, then helps him upright. He takes the blindfold and fastens it around Techno's eyes, before leading him outside. Techno hasn't seen the sky in years. He barely remembers it, aside from recalling he saw the sunset once. The colors of red, orange, yellow, all melting together. It was beautiful. Chat told him that when he dies, the sky is where he goes. A star in endless black. Blazing.

Techno knows that time is coming soon.

The door clicks behind them softly, and Chat removes the blindfold. Techno walks over to his cot and sits down, curling the blankets into his lap.

"Next time you hear something," Chat says, "you should tell us first thing. We can't afford any more distractions. Time is running out."

"Yes," Techno answers, exhaling the single word. It's his fault for allowing them to notice he was thinking about Phil.

"We must cleanse you now." Chat hands him the knife. Techno does it himself. He has done so ever since he turned five years old. He's not a little kid anymore. He's the Conduit. He has to bear the responsibilities properly.

The hard part is finding a good place to cut.

He settles on the inside of his palm. Techno slices the knife through the skin, not too deep. Enough to draw blood. And then he rubs it on his forehead, each cheek, the tip of his nose. It doesn't really hurt. Techno is used to it. When he's done, he looks up at Chat.

Chat smiles down at him, which makes Techno offer a fragile smile back.

"Blood for the Blood God," Chat intones, touching his forehead. His hand is cold. Techno nods.

"Blood for the Blood God."

After Chat gives him a bandage for his cut and leaves, Techno waits a little bit before going to the window. Hesitation grips him tight, making him second guess if he should go through with this as he has done every single time before. Techno knows it's a bad idea, and he's misbehaving, and he could get in so much trouble. Worse, he could hurt everybody.

But he's curious.

With one hand he pushes the blackout curtain to the side, and then Techno slips his finger beneath the little edge of the paper taped over the window. One of the corners came loose a few months ago. Techno didn't mean to notice it. He wasn't the one who loosened it and he's not trying to be bad on purpose.

Things changed when he overheard that phone call.

Techno doesn't think he was meant to hear any of it. But he recognized Chat's footsteps out on the wooden steps that led to the door. He sat up in the cot, preparing himself for their arrival. Then, the shrill sound of a distorted music track. A cellular phone. Techno had only seen one a few times before. Chat answered it, and talked about all sorts of things. Things that confused Techno.

That day, doubt slipped in.

He lifts the edge of the paper a little higher. He doesn't want to tear off too much or somebody might notice. But with the edge lifted, Techno can see people walking by outside sometimes. He can see the shadows that move across the ground where sunlight falls through the trees. He can see little bugs on the windowsill, and sometimes a bird will touch down in the grass. Techno shouldn't be looking at the outside world. It taints him. It fills him with something that isn't blood.

Techno hopes he can see Phil again.

He feels bad about yelling at Phil the last time they met. Techno was surprised that somebody came to visit him in the middle of the night, especially somebody who isn't part of Chat. None of the chosen ones are supposed to talk to him unless they are denoted Chat, Voices that have been granted the ability to receive messages from their god. And Phil didn't act like any of the other chosen act around him, only confusing Techno further.

That's exactly why Techno's curiosity burns so bright now, deep in his chest like a star.

He peeks at a little corner of the world outside his window and thinks about how much it doesn't look like everything has ended.

---

A lot of stuff happened on the day Techno was born.

The world ended. Techno has been told that the apocalypse was a long time coming, to be fair. Chat spoke to him about how terrible humanity had already been doing, the greed and the oppression and the sickening things people did to each other. The chosen ones existed back then too, they worshipped the Blood God and sought its guidance, but they couldn't stop the end of all things. They were waiting for a sign.

They were waiting for a Conduit.

Techno is the Conduit, born on the cusp of the world's end. And after an allotted time of suffering as punishment for their sins, the Blood God will work through him to bring humanity peace. He has to stay untainted until that time comes, which means interacting with only a few people and seeing as little as possible. A vessel unfilled. That is his destiny.

Another thing that happened on the day Techno was born was the death of his mother.

When Techno came out, she didn't stop bleeding. That's how Chat knew he was the Conduit.

Sometimes when he cleanses himself and smears the warm sticky red on his skin, he thinks about her. He hopes she died happy. She was proud to carry their Conduit, since that was the point of Techno being in her tummy. Techno hopes she's proud of him even if he's scared or has doubts. He doesn't want to let her down.

"She was scared too at first," Chat tells him once. This Voice is a woman, old and grey, with deep brown eyes and crooked teeth. She brushes his hair and does it up nice for every sermon. "Oh, the first month or two she couldn't stop crying. And the first time you kicked, I swear she almost had a panic attack. But by the end, she had accepted it. She knew that she was serving her purpose." Her fingers wind the braid tighter. "You can do the same. Then you won't be scared at the end."

And more than anything Techno doesn't want to be scared.

It'd be selfish. By playing his role as Conduit, he'll set everybody free and bring an end to all suffering. He will die because the Blood God needs him to, but that's not really too bad. One for many. He won't even be alone. He'll join his mother and every other chosen that has died.

Then why do his hands start shaking every time when Chat comes to his room?

"I have a question," Techno says, voice a soft tremble barely able to force itself out of his throat. Chat is a woman today, young, bright-eyed. She is a relatively new member of Chat. Techno remembers being there for her induction.

"Hm?" she hums. Techno is wearing the blindfold, so he can't see the expression on her face.

"Why did you teach me about the world from before?" Techno asks.

In most normal circumstances, he is not supposed to question the doctrine. Things are the way they are because they must be that way. Nothing less, nothing more. Techno only has to follow. She takes his wrist, guiding it towards the food on his plate. Techno eats without cutlery because it's harder to use a fork or spoon when he can't see anything.

"You must know what we have lost to know why we worship," Chat says.

"Sure but… Why did I learn how to read and write? Why did I hear about the seasons if those don't exist anymore? Or about cars and stuff?"

The more he has started to think about it, the less sense it makes.

"The Blood God asked for it to be so," Chat says behind him. Close enough that Techno can feel her warmth near his back.

"But why?"

Something slams into the table. Techno thinks it might be Chat's hand, though he can't see it. He just felt the table shake, his plate clattering, the food slipping out of his fingers in fright. "No more! You know better than this!"

"Y-yes," Techno says quickly.

He wishes he could forget all of it. He wishes he could go back to before, when he hadn't heard the phone call, and hadn't seen Phil, and didn't wonder about anything.

"We'll cleanse you properly tonight," Chat says. "Finish your food."

Though Techno is too nauseous with apprehension about the coming pain to eat much of anything after that.

---

They never lock the door of his cabin.

Techno didn't wonder why before. If anything, he'd have to wonder why they should lock it. Chat would need to carry keys around all the time, which sounds very inconvenient. And usually, you'd lock the door to keep somebody inside by force. Techno doesn't need to be kept inside. He knows he shouldn't leave. He won't leave unless he's told to. You don't lock the door on somebody who is obedient.

Techno almost thinks they should have locked the door.

If they had, he wouldn't be turning the knob now, peeking out at the darkness that surrounds the cabin. It's quiet. He shivers as he takes a step outside, onto the wooden porch with his bare feet.

The air is cold. Techno holds out his other hand, finding it's not a tangible thing he can touch. The sensation bursting against his skin, he thinks it should be a visible phenomenon. Like the dew that clung to the grass when he peeked from the window in the early morning. Something else clings to him. He wonders if there is a name for this?

Restlessness. Uncertainty. Fear.

Techno looks up at the stars.

They're beautiful. Techno expected it all to be more horrifying since the world ended. But it's so peaceful and quiet, he can see the deep blue and black of the night and then the interwoven little dots of stars. Some bigger and some smaller. The moon is pretty too, a big disc with a bite taken out of it. Techno giggles at the thought.

And then he sees one of the stars move.

He thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him at first. Techno blinks a few times, trying to see if the shifting is caused by the movement of his own eyelids. But then he catches it again, the star that flutters in and out of existence. Techno reaches up, his fingers covering it up. He waits. Then the star moves past them, an inch or two further. Darting across the sky very slowly in a straight line.

A plane, Techno realizes. That's not a star, it's a plane.

If the world has ended and everybody outside of their compound who isn't a chosen one has been reduced to a mess of cannibalistic, violent, sinful tendencies because they are being punished, then who is flying a plane?

Maybe, Techno's mind supplies, it is one of those small planes? The sports ones that only fit three or four people. Trying to find a better place to settle, fleeing from some unseen danger. It doesn't seem very convincing. Rather, it nestles among all the other doubts Techno has found taking root in his chest. The phone call, the sound of trucks driving to and from the cabins, Phil's face when he saw him…

Techno slaps a hand into his own cheek, hard. The sting is vibrant and real, and pulls his brain away from the thoughts that scare him. He rubs the spot after, the light scratch of his nails burning. Looking at the cabins, Techno wonders which one Phil sleeps in. He doesn't know. He doubts he can find out.

But something inside him aches to talk to the other man again.

For as long as he dares to, Techno stays outside and stares up at the night sky. Then he comes up with a plan.

---

In his eight years of life, Techno has never done something bad on purpose.

Even now, as he clutches the pen in his hands, he doesn't know if what he's doing is bad. Against the rules, certainly. But the Blood God's teachings speak a lot about the futility of law. How it was only a means the government used to control the innocent. Some rules were made to be broken. Just… the right rules. Not the wrong rules. Ugh. It's all so confusing.

Techno hid a pen. He found it in the sermon room, and he slipped it into his sleeve. And he's going to use it to write a message for Phil on the paper that covers his window. If anybody else finds it, he'll be in trouble. Big trouble. Enormous trouble.

If nobody finds it, Techno won't be in trouble but he will be a little disappointed.

He antagonizes for a long while over how to phrase his totally secret message. He doesn't want to make it obvious who the message is addressed to just in case somebody else aside from Phil does find it. Techno doesn't want Phil to receive punishment for his actions.

He settles on a few vague lines about meeting him in the bathroom at night.

Then when darkness comes, Techno sneaks out and into the bathroom that he knows the initiates use. The building smells strange, chemical almost. Techno never went inside before. His entire face scrunches up at the sharp scent. He goes into the stall at the very back, locks it, and pulls his feet up on the porcelain.

He waits. For hours and hours, he waits, staring at the inside of the stall's door. Once, somebody comes in. But they simply walk to the urinal, and Techno holds his breath, trying not to gag as whoever came in does their thing. Then he waits some more. Eventually, he gets too worried that morning is coming and he won't be able to sneak back. So he heads to his cot and sleeps a few short hours before Chat comes for the daily rites.

The next night brings the same. Techno sits inside the stall and picks at the skin around his fingernails, trying not to get too frightened and head back early. He doesn't want to miss Phil if Phil does come. But he has no way of knowing if he will. And that's a problem all its own.

On the third night, Techno has worked his nail bed into bleeding, familiar and sticky beneath his fingertips. And he barely reacts when he hears the door of the bathroom open, as tentative footsteps trail inside.

"Techno?" Phil asks, a hushed whisper.

Techno pushes open the stall and steps out. "Phil?"

"You left me a message," Phil says, sounding equal parts concerned and baffled. The bathroom has harsh, fluorescent lights. It makes the white of Phil's eyes appear almost yellow.

"Where did you come from?" Techno demands.

His question only leads to Phil seeming more bewildered. Techno's eyes scan Phil, not minding how the man searches his face for something. A trick, maybe? He could think that Techno lured him here at Chat's behest. Techno bites his bottom lip.

Phil clears his throat slightly. "What do you-"

"Before you became one of the chosen," Techno presses. "Who did you live with? How did you survive?"

Another hesitation grips Phil, which in turn shakes Techno to his core. If this confuses Phil, it also expands Techno's confusion tenfold. These shouldn't be difficult things to answer.

"I lived in an apartment in the city," Phil says slowly, still looking carefully at Techno's reactions. Hoping it will clarify the reason for the interrogation. "I studied psychology at the Flowerfell University. I work there now as a professor, though I've been meaning to start my own practice-"

"How?!" Techno asks, voice picking up in volume, growing more shrill. He shouldn't be letting his emotions slip like this, it's not good for him. He is the Conduit. He is devoid of doubt and fear and- Only blood. Techno presses his nails into the soft parts of his own hands.

"What do you mean?" Phil asks sincerely.

"How were you doing any of that if the world has ended?"

For a moment, there is only silence. And Phil looks at him with something else than confusion.

Pity.

"I don't know why they told you that," Phil says, tone soft. "I'm sorry, Techno. They lied to you."

They lied to him.

The world did not end.

Techno's mother still died.

And Techno will too, though he doesn't know what for anymore.

---

Their conversation after that didn't go on too long, because Phil was even more scared than Techno that they could be caught and something bad would happen. Techno doesn't mind. He has a lot of things he needs to know, that burn and burn and burn inside him. But at the same time, he feels sort of numb. Hollow. Chat seems happy with that. They like to see that he's not scared anymore.

Techno doesn't think it will be long.

Something big will happen. Either Chat's big thing or Phil's big thing. Techno didn't ask exactly what Phil's big thing is, Phil just told him that he's doing something, and then the chosen ones will be freed, so in a way Phil isn't too different from Chat either. They're all waiting for the big thing to happen. Techno will know it when it arrives. He's certain of it.

In the meantime, he stares out the window.

He tore off the little piece of the covering paper he used to write his message and nobody even noticed. Techno can see more of the outside as a result. He can see into the trees and the shadows that lurk beyond the fence. He can see a tiny sliver of sky, clouds. He can see the world that didn't end.

He can't see the arrival of four big, black cars to the compound. But he can hear the screaming that happens as a result.

Stupidly, Techno freezes, curled up on his cot as he is. In the past few days, he has left his cabin despite knowing it would make Chat mad over and over, yet when he knows he should probably be doing something useful all his muscles seem to have turned to jelly. All Techno feels capable of is listening, waiting, the heavy thud and the shouts, and then a few sharp pops Techno doesn't recognize.

The door bursts open and Techno automatically curls up more, whimpering. He doesn't want to die. He knows he should. He should want to die - he was raised to die - but he's scared and confused and if the world didn't end then why must Techno?

"Techno!" Phil raises his voice, hands gripping his shoulders. He shakes Techno's body, a violent jolt that pulls him back, and then squeezes more. "Hide under the cot. Don't come out until it's safe."

"But-" Techno starts, only to find Phil already let go and is rushing towards the door again. His hair is messy, and there are some stains on the pretty embroidery hems of his pants. The door slams shut behind him.

Techno stays where he is a few seconds longer, until another crash has him wincing. He doesn't know where it came from but it sounded nearby. He shakily rolls onto the ground and crawls underneath his cot, drawing in his legs. The position is awkward and tense, hurting his ribs where his knees dig into his chest, pushing his cheek into the wooden planks until it leaves a mark. Techno stays quiet as a mouse even when the door opens.

Chat looks around the room wildly and curses.

"Where the fuck is he?!" Another Voice asks behind Chat. They have something slung over their shoulder, the strap of a backpack maybe. Except the thing is metallic and shaped all weirdly. Techno squints, trying to see what it is properly. It helps that Chat walks into the room and tears off one of the blackout curtains.

They have a gun strapped to them. Chat told Techno only bad people use guns.

The Blood God only approves of honorable combat - a knife or a blade, fists if nothing else will do. Guns are cheap and barbaric, and the government uses them when putting people down.

Chat turns so they're facing the cot, and Techno stifles a gasp in his palms, as if hoping it would shove the sound back down into his throat. He's certain Chat will find him, there aren't many other hiding places in the cabin. But then there's a sharp crack, and a tinny voice as if speaking very far away but also amplified. Techno can't really decipher the words. Something about a call for surrender. And Chat walks out of the cabin quickly.

Techno doesn't move an inch, doesn't even twitch a muscle.

After a bunch more shouting and a lot more of the sharp cracks, everything becomes silent suddenly. Too sudden, honestly. As if a light switch has been flipped. Techno pokes a finger at his ear, checking if it's not his hearing that's gone rather than the sound. He can hear the soft moving of his hair though, the ribbons of the braid scratching underneath his touch.

Four people walk into the cabin.

They don't look like any of the chosen. They are wearing black clothes, with strange bulky pieces and helmets. There is a weird glass thing attached to the front that comes down over their face, obscuring all features from being recognizable. Techno's eyes grow wide, brain trying to parse what's happening but he has never seen anything like this before. They look like monsters. Like all the things Chat's stories warned him about.

And it gets worse when one of them walks over to the cot with purpose.

They upend it easily with one hand, then use the other to reach for Techno.

Instinctively, he presses against the floor, trying to back away. Not that it's much use, a firm grip clutches his elbow and swiftly hauls Techno upright to his feet. He struggles and kicks, which only prompts the man to grab him with both arms instead, pulling him to their chest while ignoring Techno's squirming.

"We got the boy," one of the other men says, hand to his ear.

They move fluidly as one, Techno twisting and turning in the arms of the one who picked him up. As he's carried out of the cabin, he sees some of the chosen on the ground, not moving. There's blood on the grass. Others stand near the wall, hands against the flat surface, while more of the people in bulky black clothes train guns on them. Techno starts to shriek.

He's not trying to accomplish anything specific. Maybe he's only doing it because helplessness wells up in his chest and there is nothing else he can do. So Techno struggles and screams and he beats his fists uselessly against the man's chest as they carry him towards one of the cars.

He doesn't stop screaming until something inside his throat tears and the taste of iron lays heavy on his tongue.

---

Techno is only looking at his hands.

He doesn't want to look at the room. The four walls aren't too far removed from each other, but that doesn't stop them from feeling like too much. Too high, too wide, too much. Techno doesn't remember anything from yesterday. He should. He was awake through it all. But he didn't take in any of it.

The world didn't end when Chat told him it did. Now it kinda feels like it has.

Because Techno is in this room, and the room is in some building, and he was brought there by car, driving through the city. Techno is sitting on a sort of elevated chair-bed thing, a strange grainy textured paper covers all of it and makes him feel odd. He didn't like it when a doctor inspected him and took his vitals, it made his veins feel weird and squirmy. Somebody helped him wash up and put him in some fresh clothes. Techno misses his robes.

He hates all the questions they asked.

Like what his mother's full name was (Techno doesn't know) and if he remembers who his father is (he doesn't). They asked a lot about what it means to be the Conduit, and Techno was annoyed having to explain it all. Chat would tell it to anybody who needed to know. Techno was exhausted having to justify himself over and over.

He also doesn't like the sounds of this building. There are constantly people moving past the door, the entire place smells like cleaning products, and sometimes there's a noise that comes from the air almost. Somebody speaking but their voice is all muffled and mechanical. Techno can't stand it. He doesn't want to be here.

When the door finally opens, Phil comes into the room.

"Hey Techno," he says. Phil looks a bit different too, and Techno scrunches up his nose at Phil in his strange coat. The absence of white and red feels wrong to him. "How are you feeling?"

Techno purses his lips. He glances past Phil, where he sees somebody standing just outside the door, with their back towards the room. Techno thinks it's a police officer.

"I don't know," Techo says after a moment. He still thinks he's mostly hollow. Only blood.

"That's understandable," Phil says evenly. He hesitates before sitting down next to Techno on the tall table. Though unlike Techno whose legs dangle over the edge, Phil's feet remain on the ground.

"When will I go back to Chat?" Techno asks.

The corners of Phil's mouth pull down a bit, similar to when you taste something bitter. He crosses his arms and looks down at Techno, trying to force a smile. "I don't think you'll be able to go back to any of them for the moment," Phil says carefully, overly cautious of how Techno will react. "Does that upset you, Techno?"

Techno frowns. They've been asking him a lot about how he feels. "Not really," he shrugs.

"Good, good." Phil pauses before adding. "You'll probably have to stay with me for a while if that's okay with you?"

"Why?" Techno asks.

"Because you need to stay with somebody," Phil says. "Somebody who knows how to look after you properly. We don't want to send you to a place where you'll be overwhelmed or uncomfortable."

Techno doesn't know what sort of place Phil could mean. He fidgets with the ends of the sleeves on his oversized sweater, the fabric coarse and not white. Wrong.

"Remember how I told you I'm a psychologist?" Phil asks. Techno nods, despite not really remembering properly. "It means they're willing to make an exception, and I don't need to jump through the usual hoops for fostering a child," Phil says. "So I can take care of you for now. It's probably better, since you already know me."

Techno nods again. He thinks he prefers staying with Phil over staying with a total stranger. At least Phil also worships the Blood God, sort of.

"Good," Phil says again, expression clearing up a bit.

Very slowly he puts his hand on Techno's shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back as he does so. The weight feels heavy, warm.

"It's going to be okay," Phil says softly. "We'll figure this out."

From where Techno's standing, there's nothing left to figure out. The world didn't end when they told him it had. And the world has ended now. So not much has changed, really.

But he nods a third time because Phil seems to like it when he does that, and picks at the edges of his nails until they bleed red.

Phil never really thought about whether he wanted to have kids one day or not.

He grew up an only child. His father was an only child too, and his mother had one brother - Phil's uncle - who never married or had any children either. So there weren't any baby siblings around for Phil to dote on, no adorable younger nieces or nephews to lure out Phil's paternal instincts. He always assumed that when he found a partner, the bridge on if he'd ever become a father or not could be crossed then. But until that happened, he was quite content.

For a while, Phil was too invested in his studies and then his career to get into a relationship anyway. He honestly wouldn't have cared if he stayed single his entire life, because he didn't feel like he was lacking anything without romance, but a few years ago he met a wonderful woman named Kristin. And she happened to have a son.

Phil has been trying to take an active role in Tommy's life ever since Kristin and he got serious about their involvement. But it's still very different from having a child in his home full-time. So he has no idea what he's getting into.

"Do you know where he'll go?"

Puffy levels him with a stare over her paperwork. It is the sort of stare Phil has grown pretty familiar with since she aims it at him often. The slight narrowing of her light brown eyes means that he is fishing for information that should be confidential, but that Puffy will probably divulge anyway because she likes Phil an above average amount.

They're the same. Neither of them are technically cops, but they both have a job within law enforcement which means they frequently run into each other. Phil as a consultant specialized in criminal psychology, Puffy as a social worker who often handles the more unique cases that require police intervention.

"We're trying to figure that out," she says after a moment, brushing her fingers through her curls and casting her eyes back to the file. "There's no family as far as we know, no birth certificate either. He was probably born on the compound."

Phil nods. "That's the impression I got, yeah."

"He says his mother died but obviously we don't have a death certificate either. They did find several sets of human remains on the premises. Autopsy report isn't done yet but I'm assuming they buried the poor girl out back if she didn't survive the delivery."

"Fuck," Phil says empathetically. Because that's the only word he can really use. All of this is fucked up.

"Even if he has any relatives to find, it's going to take weeks. So he'll have to go into crisis care until then." Puffy frowns, clearly not too pleased with the thought. "Any kind of group home is out of the question."

Yeah, Phil doesn't think Techno will do well surrounded by a bunch of other kids. Or strangers in general. Finding a foster family that will have the time and ability to take care of a child with Techno's background sounds hard. Phil wouldn't even know where to start.

He steps closer to the wall, out of the way of a nurse rushing past them while the intercom blares about some emergency on another floor.

"What about keeping him here in the hospital until you find something more suited?" Phil asks.

"Maybe. Physically, he's perfectly fine. So we'd have to put him on psych hold," Puffy says. "And then he'll be in the children's ward anyway, which causes the same issue. I don't know if it'll be better for him."

Again, Phil nods.

"Theoretically he'd do best if we didn't have to put him with a stranger at all," Puffy adds, "but he has never known anybody or anything outside of the cult."

"He knows me."

Phil doesn't think about what he intends to mean with the statement, it just kinda pops out of his mouth. Objectively he's speaking the truth. Everybody else in the cult either got arrested or is facing their own long journey in therapy and support groups, needing to deprogram themselves from the Blood God cult's indoctrination. He's more or less the only one who was a part of that group without being compromised - basically because he never was truly a part of it.

"And you'd take him in?" Puffy asks, a little skeptical.

Phil tries not to take it to heart. She's only looking out for Techno's best interests, and Phil doesn't exactly have the credentials to be looking after young children either. Foster care is a complicated process, with many hoops you have to jump through to get approved.

But then why does Phil feel unable to get Techno's terrified sobbing out of his head?

"If you can make it happen," he says. "I could look after him. At least for a while, until you work out something better."

He might never have done anything like it, he genuinely wants whatever would be best for Techno. After everything he went through, he deserves a proper fresh start. And not to be immediately traumatized in a different way by being put into the system and losing everything he's familiar with. Phil is a psychologist, he has the skills to navigate Techno's fragile mental state. So all he has to worry about is the 'taking care of a child' part.

How hard can that truly be?

Well, current Phil would like to have a conversation with past Phil about impulsive choices.

"So, this is it," he says with a lame little wave of his arms. Techno barely moves his head, eyes darting around Phil's tiny apartment. Phil had to speedrun a deep clean of the place after Puffy told him she'd see about pulling some strings that would allow him to bring Techno home. Never had it been so obvious to him before that he lives in a bachelor's pad. The little bowl of potpourri Kristin put in his toilet after her first visit hardly helps. There were dirty clothes and old dishes scattered everywhere, books and papers on practically every surface, and he probably was creating a tripping hazard due to unsafe use of extension cords. Not Phil's fault that he enjoys watching TV from the comfort of his couch while being on his laptop at the same time.

But he got all of that taken care of. And Techno didn't cry or scream when they told him that Phil would be taking care of him for the time being. So that's a win.

"My bedroom is just down the hall on the left," Phil points out. "The door across from it is where you'll be sleeping."

Technically, it used to be Phil's home office but there had always been a bed in there for the occasional guests. Mostly Tommy stayed there the few times he slept over. Phil moved all the important bits to his own bedroom, so it should be suitable for Techno.

Techno nods, still mostly occupied with looking around.

"The door closest to us is the bathroom," Phil goes on. "Do you want to take a bath or a shower right now? The hospital stay might have left you feeling icky."

Looking down at himself for a moment - taking in the too long jeans and uncomfortable sweater the nurse put Techno in because the only clothes he had were the cult's strange traditional garb - Techno frowns a little. "Yes," he says, softly. His voice doesn't carry, but thankfully Phil is kind of hovering nearby, trying not to fuck up this parenting thing within the first hour.

"Great. Yeah, sure. Uh, do you need help washing up?" Phil asks.

Techno is eight years old, Phil assumes that's about the age most kids can take care of that stuff by themselves. Techno isn't most kids, though. He was raised in complete isolation and dependency, so Phil would rather double-check if Techno is comfortable doing something on his own than make any assumptions.

But Techno nods his affirmative. Phil is secretly a little relieved. "I'll get you something to wear while sleeping."

Two drawers in Phil's bedroom are dedicated to Kristin's possessions. There are mostly clothes in there and assorted small knick knacks she doesn't always want to carry back and forth when visiting him or could be likely to forget, like an extra phone charger. Phil also finds a set of pajamas that belong to Tommy. Techno is about two years older but seems to have a pretty small stature, possibly due to malnutrition in early childhood. So they should be fine for him to wear until they get proper ones.

Back in the bathroom, Techno is standing in front of the floor-length mirror, staring at himself intently. It crosses Phil's mind that he can't remember seeing a single mirror in the compound, not even in the bathroom. Vanity is a sin in the Blood God's teachings. Possibly, this is one of the first times Techno has ever seen himself.

"You can use these tonight," Phil says as he walks closer. "We should probably go shopping tomorrow, get you some stuff."

Techno doesn't react, one hand pressed to his cheek.

"Techno?" Phil asks tentatively.

The boy blinks, seemingly pulling himself out of deep thought. He turns to glance at Phil, then sees the sleeping clothes in his arms. "Thank you."

Phil leaves them on the counter for Techno and gives some simple instructions on how to operate the shower knobs before returning to the kitchen area. He sighs deeply, rubbing at his face. What the hell has he gotten himself into? What if all of this is a huge mistake?

He swallows it down a moment later. Phil is the adult in this situation. He can manage this. He needs to manage this, for Techno's sake. He starts cooking noodles with red sauce, a classic. Phil doesn't think there's a single child who doesn't eat it. While he makes the food, he listens closely to the sounds coming from the bathroom. First the water running, then the shuffling of Techno moving around which can be heard through the too thin walls. Around the time he's plating the noodles, Techno appears in the doorway, dragging his socked feet.

His long hair is wet and clinging to his shoulders, some of it getting in his face. Phil doesn't have any hair ties.

Phil smiles at him. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes," Techno says politely. He takes a seat at the table when Phil gestures at it, clearing his throat a bit. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course," Phil replies as he fetches his own plate.

"When am I going home?"

Phil almost freezes.

He decides not to respond until he's also sitting down, so he can look Techno in the face and address him correctly, making sure to choose his words carefully.

"With home, do you mean the cabins?" Phil wants to confirm. He doubts it could be anything else, Puffy was right when she said that place is the only thing Techno has ever known.

"The sanctuary," Techno corrects. "Where all the Chosen live."

Phil rubs the handle of his fork with one thumb. Techno hasn't touched his cutlery at all.

"I'm afraid you won't be going back there at all, Techno," Phil says. "It's not safe. Some of the Chosen turned out to be bad people, and they did bad things. So that needs to be sorted first."

Techno takes this information in silently, not reacting much.

"Does not going back upset you?" Phil asks gently.

"I don't think so," Techno says, though he sounds rather uncertain about it. Phil realizes Techno already struggled with uncertainty before he arrived at the cult. But it must still be very confusing, and Techno deserves to slowly be eased into the truth. It'll be better for him to come to his own conclusions, rather than have Phil spoonfeed new opinions to him.

"You can stay here as long as you like," he says. "And if you at any point don't want to stay here anymore, you can tell me. We'll figure something out that makes you happy."

For the first time since they sat down, Techno looks up at him shyly, blue eyes peeking out from beneath his soggy bangs. The sight is a little comical - pathetic in the way those wet cat memes are that Kristin adores so much - yet Phil can't help but smile at it. He grips his fork more firmly and spears some pasta.

"Eat now before it goes completely cold," he says.

Prompted by the words, Techno reaches into his plate. He picks up the end of a noodle and sticks it into his mouth. Phil stares at him doing this, trying not to laugh.

"Techno, what are you- why are you using your hands?" he chuckles.

Techno winces slightly, looking nervous. "That's how I've always done it," he defends quickly. But his eyes are already cast down again, prepared for Phil's anger.

That's why Phil is fast to wave it away. "No, it's fine. You can eat however you want. But it might be easier if I cut the food up then?"

Skeptical, Techno squints at him for a moment. But then he sits back. "Yes please."

Phil leans over the table, so he can mix the sauce and noodles before cutting them up. When he's done, Techno continues eating with his hands, sometimes closing his eyes for longer periods. He doesn't need to see his plate this way, Phil supposes. It's a little strange but not exactly harming anybody.

Techno will have a lot of habits like that, most of which he'll probably need to unlearn if he wants to function in the real world. A long road ahead of him.

All Phil can do is try and make it so Techno has a good start on that journey.

---

"Don't let go of my hand," Phil says.

Techno makes a face, almost as if he's offended by the reminder. Techno had been pretty docile during the ride over too, no fidgeting or chatter. He just stared out the window. Phil is more used to Tommy's erratic behavior.

And if he allows Tommy to creep an inch from his sight, that boy is out licking a fire hydrant or something equally unhinged. So sue Phil for being cautious.

He already picked one of the quieter moments to head to the mall. Techno does seem to be easily distracted and Phil doesn't want him to get overwhelmed. Techno wraps his fingers around Phil's, one step behind as they walk into the building. Phil spots the nearest store that sells children's clothing and heads straight over.

He recognizes one of the brands from the labels of Tommy's clothes, steering them in that direction. No need to complicate matters, right? He falters when he gets to the racks, unsure. "What do you like to wear?" he asks Techno.

Techno doesn't initially respond, looking at the frankly ridiculous amount of options. Maybe Phil is a little biased, he's not the most fashionable guy. There is absolutely no reason for a child to own ten different types of outerwear though. But he waits, allowing Techno the time to consider.

"This one," Techno says eventually, not an answer to the question technically but he does reach out to put his hand on a sweater. The fabric is lightweight and a pure white in color. There are red patterns embroidered around the bottom hem, the collar, and both sleeves.

Phil bites his tongue.

"Sure," he says after a moment. "If that's the one you want."

The most important part is that Techno learns to voice his opinion.

And he certainly seems to not care about anything else, shrugging his way through Phil also choosing a few pairs of jeans, plain shirts, a dark grey hoodie, and a simple raincoat for him.

They visit a small bookshop where Phil picks up some stationary for Techno, pens and colored pencils and coloring books since he remembers Techno drew as part of his cult life. While Phil's first instinct would be to keep Techno as far away as he can manage from any activity that connects him to the cult, the more rational part of him knows that uprooting Techno is already traumatic enough. If he wants to keep drawing, who is Phil to take that from him?

They visit a toy shop too, though Techno seems even more reluctant to pick something out from there. His expression betrays that everything about this is foreign to him. Perhaps not surprising since the religion of the Blood God is staunchly anti-capitalist and Techno probably never had toys growing up either. Phil settles on a few puzzles and a set of wooden figures with all kinds of farm animals. They are aimed at kids younger than Techno, but should be simple enough to start with.

While they're walking to the next place, Techno suddenly squeezes his hand.

"Has all of this always been out here?" he asks, a little breathless, close to upset.

"Yes," Phil says. Because he knows Techno means the world that didn't end. According to Puffy, that's what they told Techno.

Techno stays silent after that, a frown on his face.

The grocery store is last on the list. Phil needs to get extra food now that there are two people in his apartment, and he wants to get stuff Techno will like too. Not that either of them has any idea what that means.

"What about cereal?" Phil tries, picking up one of the boxes and wiggling it around a bit. "It's not the healthiest option but I won't hold that against you."

The joke doesn't necessarily land. Techno looks a little sick with consternation, rather.

"I don't know," he says. "I usually have bread."

"With what on it?" Phil asks, grasping at straws.

But Techno shrugs. "Just bread."

"Hm, okay. I'd really love for you to have more variety in your diet though." Bread for breakfast and lunch, and then a dinner prepared by cult initiates. Phil wonders what the average dietician would say about that.

"I always have what Chat has to eat," Techno says.

"I know," Phil sighs. He looks at the shelves again. "Would you be fine having what I have then?"

A dubious scowl takes its place on Techno's face for all of ten seconds. Phil is not Chat. And clearly that's something Techno doesn't take lightly.

Then, after a moment, Techno answers. "I guess that's fine."

Another small win.

---

Puffy calls him after four days to confirm that Techno has no other relatives to contact. She inquires about looking for a more permanent placement. Phil tells her to take her time, that they've been getting by.

That night, Techno wakes up from a nightmare screaming his lungs out.

When Phil enters the room, Techno's first reaction is to flinch away from him, to cower into the wall and pull on his hair. But as soon as Phil sits down on the bed, Techno clings to him instead. He cries for close to an hour, needing Phil to rub his back and remind him to breathe multiple times. It's good he knows how to deal with panic attacks, though this one is quite severe.

Techno, finally calmed down enough to stop shaking, rubs his teary face against Phil's chest.

"Why did they lie to me?" Techno asks.

And after everything, the poor child deserves the truth. More than anything, Phil wishes he had a solid answer. "I don't know," he says.

Techno falls asleep in his arms, Phil waiting for another solid thirty minutes to assure himself Techno won't wake up before he tucks him in.

---

Phil might be a psychologist, he's not a child psychologist.

One of the requirements Puffy laid out for him as part of taking in Techno was that he still has to take Techno to a proper pediatric psychologist three times a week. Phil has absolutely no issue with this. He can use all the help he can get. And he trusts Simon implicitly. They're close friends, met in their university days.

What he doesn't appreciate is that Simon is a bit too keen on making fun of him.

"Just because you have a child now doesn't mean you need to start dressing like a dad already," Simon says with a snort when he sees him.

Phil bristles a little, crossing his arms. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I always dress like this."

Simon raises an amused eyebrow, poignantly looking at the stains on Phil's hastily thrown on green jumper. Phil laughs, rubbing at one.

"Techno spilled a glass of milk this morning. I was in a hurry so I didn't change," he explains.

Smiling, Simon turns to look through the glass. Techno is sitting at a desk inside, filling out a bunch of questionnaires and exam type stuff. Phil isn't entirely up to date on what exactly is on them, despite Simon explaining it to him. From what he gathers, it's meant to assess Techno's education level. Puffy says that it's important they see about getting Techno enrolled into some type of schooling sooner rather than later, both to ensure his development and because it's a big step in adjusting to society and other people.

Knowing what level Techno is currently at will be the first step. After that, they can see about a method that would work best for Techno, whether that is some type of homeschooling, tutoring with professionals, going to an actual school part-time, or a combination of such.

It's a lot of work. An additional hurdle to the fostering process that Phil didn't expect. But he doesn't mind. Techno has been living with him for close to three weeks now and he's honestly been pretty proud of the progress.

"He still doesn't open up a lot to me," Simon says conversationally, though also probably taking the opportunity to touch base with Phil's experience. "He talks a lot about what it was like being in the cult. Being the… the Conduit." The word clearly carries some distaste for Simon. Phil shares the sentiment. "But he never delves into how he feels about it."

"Yeah," Phil agrees. "He's the same at home."

"There's some other stuff too. Body language, the way he expresses himself, or how he processes things. It's hard to tell given how he was raised, but I'd like to test for neurodivergency."

"Really?" Phil pulls his eyes away from Techno, looking at Simon.

"No harm in leaving no stone unturned, right?" Simon asks.

After a moment's consideration, Phil nods. "If you think it'd be good for him."

He hesitates to put any more labels on Techno when the immersion into regular society is already going to be so difficult for him, but Simon is right. And if Techno is neurodivergent, it'll be better to know and get him accommodations than flounder and blame all struggles on trauma.

When the allotted time Techno has to fill out his assessment is done, Simon goes inside to retrieve the papers and continue the session. Phil wanders off into the waiting room of the mental health center again, strongly in need of a black coffee. He was so busy making Techno's breakfast he forgot to have any.

A soft voice calls from behind him right as Phil presses the button. "Oh, Phil, is that you?"

He turns to see Niki standing there, awkwardly clutching some forms to her chest. Phil smiles kindly at her.

"Oh hey," he says. "I didn't know you came to this place too?"

"My psychologist has her office here," Niki says. She shuffles her feet a little awkwardly, but doesn't seem in a hurry to run away. Maybe the deer-in-the-headlight disposition is just a permanent fixture for her.

Phil takes the carton cup out of the dispenser. "You look great. How have you been doing?"

Niki tucks some hair behind her ear and offers a small, fragile grin at the compliment. Phil means it. She has dyed all of her hair the same dark brown color now. She's wearing clothes she's obviously more comfortable in than the initiates outfit they forced her to wear at the compound. The noticeable bags under her eyes aren't completely gone but definitely have become less profound.

"I'm doing-" She halts herself. "Well, to be honest, it's been a bit of a mess. That's fine though. I'm learning how to deal with messes."

"That's good to hear," Phil says sincerely. Niki wasn't as entranced within the cult as some others, being a very recent recruit at the moment of Phil's joining. While she's a far cry from being okay, she is now getting the true help she needs.

He sips the coffee, scowling at the bitter taste. "Fuck," he almost gags, and it makes Niki chuckle slightly.

Phil throws it in the trash right then and there. He's not that sleep-deprived yet.

He reaches into his coat pocket instead. "Here's my card. If you ever want to give me a call," he starts.

Niki's eyes widen, and she lowers her chin, hiding behind her hair. "Oh, no, Phil, like I said, I already have a psychologist-"

"Not as a psychologist," Phil assures quickly. "As a friend. I never properly thanked you for all your help back there. We can go grab a coffee. I promise to find a place that serves better hot drinks than this one." He nods at the machine.

Hesitating only for a moment longer, Niki takes the card from him, holding it in her hand as if it's something precious. "Thank you," she says. "I would like that."

---

Techno has discovered a newfound fascination with nature documentaries.

Phil assumes it's because he never went anywhere outside the compound. The world terrifies and overwhelms him, but from the safety of Phil's couch and under a blanket, he can watch all there is to find on the vastness of planet Earth. Or that's what the intro of each episode claims.

Phil is fine with it. He'll encourage any hobby Techno shows more than apathy towards, meaning he's not differing to Phil on what he should be doing.

He's sitting at the table while working on some patient reports when somebody knocks on the door. Phil gets up and goes to answer it, a bit confused because he's not expecting anybody.

Tommy slides past him as soon as he opens the door.

"Kristin?" Phil looks at the woman standing in front of him. The most gorgeous woman in the world. His girlfriend.

Coincidentally the woman whose texts he's been ignoring for the past few days.

"Oh, good, you're not dead," Kristin says with a little smirk, putting one hand on her hip. "Could have fooled me."

"Why would you think I'm dead?" Phil asks, allowing her to scoot past him into the hallway.

"Your last messages were pretty suspicious," Kristin returns easily. "First it was the mysterious trip to an unknown location where you'd be unreachable by phone." She counts the reasons off on her finger as she continues. "Then it was you being back in town but too busy with work to meet up. And then you asked me not to come over unannounced anymore while you usually love my surprise visits." She spreads her arms. "What gives, Phil?"

"It's- It's hard to explain," Phil says.

He couldn't tell Kristin he was going undercover in a cult, so he'd told her a white lie about a trip. He didn't feel great about deceiving her, but he'd figured he could come clean after his undercover mission was done with. Except, then Techno happened. And Phil got so busy about all of that, he never figured out how to break the news about him fostering a child now.

"All I ask is for you to have the decency to come clean if you're cheating on me," Kristin laughs, walking into the living room. She's not very serious about the accusation, but it still makes Phil hurry to catch up with her.

"It's not like that-"

"Phil, who the fuck is that?" Tommy asks, pointing at the boy sitting next to him on the couch. Tommy just made himself at home, also watching the documentary. Little shit. Techno is staring at them, still more bundled up in blankets than anything, confused by the sudden strangers.

"That is the reason I haven't been answering your texts," Phil sighs.

"Oh, so… did you get really wild in high school once or…?" Kristin ventures. "You know I love kids, you could have told me."

Phil chuckles. "It's more complicated than that."

Before he can explain, Kristin is already approaching Techno on the couch. She kneels down in front of it, smiling gently. "What's your name, sweetie?"

Techno pulls his blanket up so only his eyes peek out, glancing at Phil as if seeking permission. Phil exhales, nodding encouragingly. The child looks back at Kristin.

"Techno," he says shyly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Techno." Kristin stands up again, ruffling his hair. Techno doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch. Progress. Then Kristin looks at Phil. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," Phil admits. "But before that, can I just say you're the most amazing woman on the planet."

Tommy fake gags in the background. "Gross!"

But Kristin smiles and walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Phil Craft. Start talking."

Chat always told Techno that he looks a lot like his mother.

Of course, Techno never knew if that was true or not. He simply trusted that it couldn't be a lie, because Chat would never lie to him. Now that this has turned out to be false, since they obviously lied about the world ending, and about the not-Chosen all being bad people, and perhaps even about the Blood God freeing them, Techno doesn't know if he can trust that part anymore either.

Phil has a mirror in the bathroom and whenever he washes himself, Techno finds himself caught, unable to look away.

He hopes he looks like his mother. Knowing he does always seemed to give Techno some comfort. His mother loved him very, very much. She must have, if she was willing to die for him. And Techno also used to be a little scared that when he died and followed her into the sky, she wouldn't be able to recognize him very well unless he looked like her.

But now, when he stares at his reflection and touches his cheek, traces freckles that he fears mirror the constellations she used to have on her skin, it makes him a bit sad too.

She loved him so much that she died for him. And Techno doesn't want to return the favor anymore.

"Techno?" Kristin asks from the doorway, barely cracking it open and poking her head through. "Are you done?"

"Yes," Techno says, watching her step inside.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?"

Techno smiles and nods. He loves having his hair braided, but he's no good at it himself. Phil got him a few hair ties and has been making an effort to learn. But Phil is obviously very clumsy at it too. So Techno has been settling on having his hair in a ponytail or a bun, or leaving it as is. Kristin braids her own hair though, she knows how it's done.

Her fingers are gentle as she starts brushing them through, pulling out the segments. When they're in a rush, Kristin will make a very simple braid. But when they have the time, like today, she sometimes does the really pretty ones. The ones Techno likes most and which make him miss his ribbons.

"Are you nervous for your first day of school?" Kristin asks as she works.

Techno meets her dark blue eyes in the mirror and shrugs.

"Ah, I suppose you don't really know what to expect, do you?" she laughs.

"Phil said it's like the sanctuary," Techno mumbles. He has trouble raising his voice sometimes. Kristin doesn't interrupt, or ask him to speak up. She only smiles and waits for him to continue. "There is a schedule that tells me where to be and what to do."

Techno finds comfort in the structure that the schedule provides. He has a map in case he gets lost too, all he really needs to do is look at the timetable and make sure he's in the right classroom at the right time. And since most of his classes are in the same room, that's easy. He has to go to school two days a week, and on the other days Phil hired somebody to tutor him. Simon was very happy with him when he took the tests, because it turns out Techno isn't too behind, or not too behind that it will prevent him from catching up to the other kids in his class. Whatever that means.

"That's good," Kristin says, pulling some more hair up from behind Techno's ear. "And we went over what you had to do in case you do get overwhelmed, right?"

Techno starts to nod, but stops himself because he doesn't want to ruin Kristin's braiding. "Yes."

All the teachers at school know Techno is 'special'. That's the word Techno overheard Phil use. Techno was called special a lot by Chat too. He's used to it.

In this case, special means that Techno gets to go to the nurse's office and they'll call Phil for him whenever he wants, even in the middle of the lesson.

"Tommy will be around too," Kristin says. "You can ask him for help."

Barely, Techno manages to not scrunch up his nose. He doesn't want to ask Tommy for help. Tommy doesn't like him.

"Are you almost ready to go?" Phil calls from the living room. Kristin gives one final pat to Techno's hair, to check if it's all secured in place. Then she takes Techno's hand. Techno wraps his fingers around hers.

Kristin's hair is black, and her face is round. She doesn't have many freckles, though she does have a mole on her cheek, right at the corner of her stormy blue eyes. Tommy doesn't look like her. Kristin loves Tommy despite this.

Techno doesn't know what his mother looked like, or if he looks the same. But he knows she loved him because she died for him.

He hopes she won't mind that he waits a bit longer to die too.

---

For as much time as Techno spends talking to Simon, there's an almost equal amount of time Simon spends talking to Phil.

Techno doesn't care. There are a lot of fun things in Simon's room for Techno to mess around with. Right now he's building a tower out of wooden blocks. The tower itself is kind of lame, but once it's tall enough, Techno can knock it over and then he can sort all the blocks by shape and color again. Simon also has a lot of books. Some of them have pictures from across different continents in it, all these places in the world that didn't end. Techno likes looking at them.

Simon asks pretty often how Techno feels about the world not ending. Techno doesn't know what the answer to that question should be, because he doesn't know why Chat lied to him.

He has a few theories. Maybe Chat made a mistake trying to interpret the Blood God's messages. Communicating with a deity is hard, that's why only some of the Chosen get to become Chat. Techno never talked to the Blood God himself, but he has a hard time imagining any god would talk in plain English. It could be that something got lost in translation. Another theory Techno has is that the Blood God could have commanded Chat to lie. Everything is the way it is because that is the way it should be. That's what Chat reminded Techno of over and over. Who is he to try and guess the Blood God's reasoning? If the Blood God ordered Chat to tell Techno the world ended, that's what they will do. It's useless to think about.

Maybe it doesn't even matter why they lied. Just that they did.

Techno knocks the tower down.

Phil and Simon are talking right outside the door, but Simon left it open a smidge so Techno can barely hear what they're saying. Not on purpose. Words simply float by, and Techno can put in the tiny bit of effort needed to catch their meaning. Simon is going on about his special needs again.

Techno thinks he's pretty sick of being special.

"We should stop by the store before we head home," Phil says once they're in the car. Techno fiddles with the soft seat belt pad Phil got for him because he squirms a lot.

"Can we get strawberries?" Techno asks.

"Strawberries?"

"I've only ever had them once."

That summer was so warm, Techno thought it would never end. He spent many nights too uncomfortable to sleep, the scratchy blanket clinging to his skin with sweat, wondering if it was a sign that the Blood God would arrive soon. It scared him too much to even think about. But every time, the sun would dip below the horizon again, and the darkness chased away the heat. Until after weeks, autumn arrived. And Techno hadn't died.

They brought him strawberries that stained his fingers red.

"We can get strawberries," Phil says, smiling. Techno doesn't often ask for anything, but when he does, it makes Phil happy. "Anything else?"

Techno thinks about it. "Maybe some more of the sugar shapes?"

"Sugar shapes?" Phil wonders.

"We eat them in the morning."

Phil laughs softly. "Do you mean cereal?"

"Tommy told me it's sugar compressed into a shape. With food paint and stuff," Techno says.

"He's smart enough to know what they are, but not to stop eating them for every meal," Phil groans, not aiming the words directly at Techno. "You shouldn't take an example from him, he'll never grow up big and strong."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be big and strong," Techno defends. Not for the sake of Tommy or anything, Tommy doesn't like him. But because being big and strong sounds unpleasant to him. The government is big and strong, and always going after the little guy. That's what Chat said. And Techno's pretty sure that one wasn't a lie.

"It doesn't- Not literally big and strong, Techno," Phil says. "I meant, like, healthy. If you only eat cereal, you won't be healthy. You need to eat fruits or veggies once in a while."

"Like strawberries?" Techno asks innocently, looking out the window.

Snorting, Phil turns into the store's parking lot. "Like strawberries."

Techno used to be scared of the store. These days he just doesn't like it, though it's not as bad if he gets to hold onto Phil's hand during their trip. There are too many sounds and smells for Techno to relax, and he hates how people will sometimes randomly stop and talk to them. The sanctuary wasn't great - Techno is coming to realize that now, slowly - but it was kind of nice that Chat was the only one allowed to talk to Techno. He almost misses that.

"You could also help me pick out a gift for Niki," Phil says.

"What is the gift for?" Techno asks. "Is it her birthday?"

He found out about those very recently, when Tommy asked him when his birthday was. Techno didn't know. The Blood God's Chosen do not find cause of celebration for the simple act of coming into a sinful world. Nobody celebrated their birthdays in the commune. Others do, apparently. Phil has teased that perhaps, Techno can pick a birthday for himself at some point. Though he's not certain if he will yet.

"No, no, we're celebrating that it's been three months since she's been freed from the cu-" Phil stops himself, both in the proverbial sense and physically by stopping in his tracks. Techno's shoulder bumps into his elbow as Phil glances at him.

"What?" he asks, looking up at Phil.

Phil licks his lips, slowly going back to perusing the shelves, gripping Techno's hand a little tighter. "I meant that it has been three months since you all moved out of the cabins."

"Is Niki celebrating that?" Techno asks, a little surprised.

"Sometimes a thing that makes one person happy doesn't make another person happy," Phil says. He's doing that thing where he's talking very clearly, every single word taking effort. He's scared that Techno will be upset. And that makes Techno's gut feel all tight and unpleasant. Because it means Phil is saying something that Chat would probably hate. "Niki wasn't happy at the cabins. So yes, she's celebrating that she got to leave."

"Oh," Techno breathes. He doesn't know how else to respond.

Niki is nice, he thinks. Techno has only seen her once or twice, when she comes by the apartment to have coffee with Phil and talk. Techno usually hides in his room.

"I don't think I was very happy at the sanctuary either," Techno offers.

Phil squeezes his hand. "It's fine if you were."

"I know," Techno says. "Maybe I was happy because I didn't know how much happier I could be." Somehow, it makes sense to him.

"That's possible," Phil agrees. His thumb rubs over Techno's knuckles, and that makes his stomach ease up. "Now, pick your favorite kind of sugar shape. Tommy isn't here, so the choice is all yours."

Techno picks the one Tommy likes best, even if Tommy doesn't like him.

---

There are a lot of people in the world who do not believe in the Blood God.

Techno knew there would be. Heathens. Unchosen. Those not worthy to become a Voice, those too ignorant to think for themselves and who believe everything the government tells them. Or those pitiful few who left the sanctuary because death scared them.

Phil doesn't believe in the Blood God.

For a while after they left, Techno thought Phil did. Back when everything was confusing and his head hurt too much to string fleeting impressions of the outside world together, Phil being a Chosen was something Techno clung to. In hindsight, he probably wouldn't have agreed to live with Phil at the moment if Techno hadn't mistaken him for a believer. So it was good that he did. His teacher taught him a nice word for that. Serendipity.

What confuses Techno more is that there are a lot of people in the world who do not believe in the Blood God, but do believe in other gods.

Chat always told Techno that believing in the Blood God is easy because there is simple, undeniable evidence. Except, they never told Techno what that evidence was. Just that it existed. Techno didn't doubt them. He couldn't doubt them, because he was born and his mother died. She died because she believed in the Blood God. Techno was born because she believed in the Blood God.

If the Blood God isn't real, then why was Techno even born?

"It's more about… a feeling," Simon says.

Techno doesn't reply. He picks up the small metal disc. It's silver. He puts it in a little box full of other silver coins. He has a box for golden coins and bronze coins too. Simon says it's better for him to have something that keeps his hands occupied as they talk.

"People call it faith. It's when you trust something is real without proper empirical evidence." Simon taps his pen against his notebook. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"Not really," Techno says.

Simon chuckles. "Most adults struggle to put these things into words. It can be very personalized, and it's all connected to emotions and experiences." Techno nods, prompting Simon to write something down. "Accepting that some things happen without there being a real reason for them happening can be frightening. It makes us feel like we lack control."

Techno runs out of coins to sort. He looks up at Simon instead.

"It's not bad for people to believe in something without having strict evidence for those beliefs," Simon says. "As long as they don't hurt others."

"I think I understand that," Techno says. If not agrees with it.

"It's also not bad for you to need a while to figure out what your beliefs are," Simon adds. "You have time, Techno."

Techno - who has always lived his life knowing he would die as soon as the Blood God wants him to - nods.

He has time.

---

School has been going… Well, it sure has been going.

Techno is walking to his usual classroom. The one he has most of his lessons in. The only time he needs to change rooms is for gym and lunch, and on some days when he has specific art classes. He got the hang of the layout by now, so he's not as nervous walking around anymore, and he knows what routes to take to avoid the crowds.

The one thing that very much bothers him are the stares.

Techno didn't mind as much when he just started coming to school. Phil warned him that he'd be the new kid, and being the new kid often draws attention. But it's been weeks, and Techno is still raising heads every time he walks through the hallways. It's exhausting.

A girl giggles, leaning closer to her friend to talk behind a cupped palm while they glance at him.

Ignoring them, Techno stops at the door to his classroom. He's a little early, since he likes being the first in line to go inside. That way, he has more time to get all of his stuff from his backpack and arrange his pens. Techno's eyes flit around a bit and he presses himself against the wall, not caring when he crumples the coats he's leaning into. It's not really hidden or anything, just somewhat less exposed.

The sound of the bell makes him flinch.

More kids pour into the hallway soon, yelling and poking at each other, shouting across the length of the room. Techno hunches further but stays where he is. He usually only has to endure a few minutes of this. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, like he did when Chat's rituals were particularly straining. His nails dig into his palm and he drags them back and forth a bit, trying to pierce through the skin.

He likes Phil and he likes Kristin and he likes his new life outside of the sanctuary. Sometimes Techno needs to remind himself of that when he starts wishing for the peace that the Blood God promised to deliver.

"Ugh, he's spazzing again," somebody behind him says, accompanied by a round of laughter. Techno keeps his eyes pinched shut, rocking slightly back and forth, shoulder bumping into the wall repeatedly. The bell is silent, but it's still much too loud in the hallway for his tastes.

"Knock it off, it's annoying," another kid complains. Their hand falls on Techno's elbow, maybe to try and stop him from the continuous motion. Techno's eyes snap open.

He's about to do something - though Techno doesn't know what yet. Run away or yell or punch them, anything - when the kid's wrist is grabbed and pushed away.

"Leave him alone!"

Tommy stands in front of him, hands balled into tight fists, doing his utmost best to look more intimidating than he truly is. It doesn't help that he's a head shorter than these other students.

"Get out of here, squirt," the older boy says with a roll of his eyes. Tommy doesn't move.

"What kind of fucking loser uses the word 'squirt'?"

A few gasps come from behind them, kids quickly looking around to see if a teacher heard such foul language being used.

"What's your problem?" the older boy says, now going to grab at the front of Tommy's shirt. Tommy tries to slap his hands away, though it becomes more of a mutual flailing. Not a proper fistfight or anything. Techno might have found it hilarious if he weren't also very confused.

Tommy isn't supposed to like him.

A teacher comes by to pull Tommy and the other kid apart pretty quickly. After a demand to explain what happened results in a shouting match, Techno finds himself sent off along with Tommy to the principal's office, where they sit on crappy plastic chairs waiting for Phil. Tommy is slouched so far back that just looking at him is hurting Techno's spine, and the younger boy has his arms crossed in front of him, expression peeved.

"Why did you do that?" Techno asks.

"He was being a jerk to you," Tommy says dismissively.

Techno shrugs. "Not really."

"Yes really," Tommy insists. "Don't let them walk all over you."

Squinting up his features in thought, Techno looks at him. "You don't like me."

"What?"

"You don't like me," Techno repeats. "Why did you stand up for me?"

"Who told you I didn't like you?" Tommy drops his arms, seemingly so genuinely confused it makes Techno confused too.

"Nobody?"

"Then why do you think I don't like you?!" Tommy's voice rises in pitch, until Techno has to fight the urge to cover his ears with his hands.

"You pushed me in the park," Techno says.

Tommy's mouth snaps shut, and for a moment, he just stares. And keeps staring. Then he laughs, bending double. Techno feels heat rise in his face, stupidly.

"I was trying to play tag with you," Tommy says eventually, sagging in the chair again.

"What's tag?" Techno asks.

"I'll show you some other time."

---

The TV is often turned off when Techno enters the room.

Phil thinks he's being subtle. Techno doesn't mind leaving him in that delusion. A belief that doesn't hurt others. Simon said those are fine.

And Techno can kind of grasp why Phil is doing it. He doesn't want Techno to follow along with the news. They talk about the sanctuary a lot, and about the Blood God, and about something called a trial that is going on. They never talk about Techno. Not by name, anyway.

"Geez, don't sneak up on me like that, mate." Phil jumps a little when Techno walks up behind him. He hurriedly reaches for the remote and turns off the TV.

Techno doesn't say anything. He walks around to crawl onto the couch too. Phil shifts, awkwardly putting his arm on the backrest so Techno can lean into him if he wants to, but also isn't forced into an embrace.

"Can we go out later?" Techno asks.

Phil tilts his head, and - when he notices the small amount of physical affection isn't shoved away - brings up his hand to gently brush through Techno's hair. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," Techno says. "Everywhere."

The world didn't end. A frightening thought for Techno, but it's starting to grow on him. And that also means there is a lot of the world left to explore.

Phil laughs, perhaps at the vagueness of the demand. "Sure, but maybe some place nearby would work better than everywhere. How about the library?"

After giving it a moment of consideration, Techno nods. "The library sounds fine."

"I could text Kristin. She can meet us there and bring Tommy, we could go get ice cream?"

Again, Techno nods. Ice cream definitely sounds fine.