I paced. Simple footsteps felt insufficient to burn off the nervous energy, so I took to flying, only to quickly realize that it had the opposite effect—I would have had to fly at max speed against the wind to feel like the external effort was helping anything psychologically.

I landed, and instead of pacing back and forth across the room, I used my flight to push myself down. Walking a few steps involved a whole-body strain. I made it three steps and decided to focus on just standing instead, testing myself against that tension.

It took endurance to keep my knees from buckling or the trunk of my body from folding. It took concentration to not automatically snap to using my forcefield, which would absorb the strain with zero effort.

It helped like pacing helped, and it was a little less conspicuous.

The sound of the elevator opening was my cue to stop. I was more or less recovered and normal as Dr. Darnall emerged. Doctors left the same elevator, one pair that walked together and one alone, apparently doing their rounds.

The hospital itself was inconsistently lit. Areas were dim, where patients were asleep, and other areas were bright. It was almost backwards, that there was so much lighting where there were no or very few people, and the places where the people were most densely congregated were dimly lit and quiet. The white walls and bright fluorescent lighting made the difference from the dark, unlit pre-sunrise morning outside that much more intense, like there was nothing at all beyond the hospital. Rain droplets on the window captured the light at an angle, forming crescents.

Darnall was dressed down from the prior times I’d seen him, wearing a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, jeans, and nice shoes. He looked as tired as fuck, with lines in his face.

“Good morning, Victoria,” he greeted me. He didn’t sound tired, at least. “Thank you for coming out here. It makes things easier.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “Thank you for seeing me with no notice.”

“You’re welcome, I’m happy to address whatever it is this is. Here, this way. We can talk in the cafeteria.”

The building was the same hospital where I had visited Fume Hood, and the same one where I had done some rounds of crisis-point style visits, flying kids around. The part that had been under construction weeks ago was built, and other parts were now in progress. The hospital was set up with long-term care in mind, and the surrounding area was arranged to give the families of patients the ability to stay or live close to their loved ones.