Neil turned to a keyboard on the nearby table, began tapping keys. Thomas heard the hum of something overhead, like a printer standing by.

'You son of a bitch!' Thomas raved. 'You fucking cunt! I'll kill you! Kill yo—!'

But he paused, first in confusion, then in dawning realization. Neil was right. There was no need to worry. He breathed deeply and smiled. How could he be such an ass?

'Better?' Neil asked.

'Yes,' Thomas said, grinning. 'Much better. What did you do?'

'Not much. So you're not worried about Frankie?'

'Fuck him. He'll be fine.'

Neil shook his head. 'No, Goodbook, I'm afraid he won't.'

'No?'

'No. Actually he's dead.'

Thomas laughed. 'No kidding?'

'No kidding. There's only one procedure that can undo an affect feedback loop—at least the devilish way Mackenzie does it.'

'What's that?'

'A bullet to the head.'

Thomas snorted with genuine laughter. Intellectually, he knew it shouldn't be funny, but it was… And it seemed the most natural thing in the world that it should be. 'You always were crazy.'

Frankie. Poor little kid. He was going to miss the little bugger…

'So all this,' Neil asked curiously, 'seems normal to you?'

Thomas tried to shrug. 'Well, I suppose to an outsider it would seem strange, but it really is quite normal when you think about it.'

'How so?'

Thomas flashed him a bright Are-you-stupid? smile. 'We're longtime friends. We always play gags on each other. Though I suppose we're getting a little too old for this.'

Neil scratched behind his ear with a pen. 'But at some level you know what's happening, don't you? You know that I'm stimulating the neural circuits responsible for your feeling of normalcy and ambient wellbeing.'

Thomas frowned, happy and perplexed. 'What can I say? You always were elaborate.'

Neil shook his head the bemused way he always did whenever his cynicism was confirmed. 'This,' he said, wagging an I-told-you-so finger. 'This is the part that sold me, that made me realize'

'You've lost me, Neil.'

'The confabulations. I mean, think about it, Goodbook, I just shot your son in the head, and you genuinely believe everything is right as rai—'

'C'mon,' Thomas interrupted, trying to shake his head. 'You're over-analyzing again. I-know-I-know, listen to the neurotic psychologist talking about over-analysis, but sometimes it really is just that simple. Sometimes you just gotta—'

'It was the same with the first terrorists I tweaked in this way,' Neil continued. 'You know I actually spent two days arguing with one, trying to get him to see how dire his situation was? Two fucking days! It was like the guy only had two buttons, shuffle and repeat. Did you know the brain has an entire module dedicated to the production of verbal rationalizations?'