Cognitive Deviance

46. Rehab

"Secondly," Andrade continued, "I'll admit it is a lot like LSD. Or more like LSD combined with meth and Xanax. It alters all five senses, makes you so horny, you'll wanna fuck everything within your line of sight, and by the end of your ninth or tenth orgasm, you just feel calm. Like so calm, you feel like you're floating down a river without a care in the world. And once the high is over, you feel like you're alone in the world. And you feel like a hundred people had just taken advantage of your body. Which, when it comes to Wonderland, is almost always true."

Margo's frustration slowly wore away, replaced by sympathy. Not for Andrade, however, but for all the women and men who had been violated while intoxicated. She had heard horrible stories before of the things people did in their pursuit of happiness. Or whatever feeling that was close enough to that. Andrade was lucky enough to be one of those who could still tell her story, yet the experience had still cost her an arm.

Or at least Margo thought it did. She hadn't gotten a confirmation yet.

"That sounds horrible," Holden grimaced. "Was all this how you lost your arm?"

Andrade looked down at her cybernetic limb, wiggling her mechanical fingers around. "In a way, yes, Sanger," she replied. "My roommate Bethany introduced me to two out of three of the drugs I got addicted to. I found Wonderland and got her into it. Got ourselves into...each other. But she was always stronger than I was. One of the reasons why I was attracted to her. And she broke the habit years before I did. One day, I was strapped into the car seat already high on that Nympho shit. Beth told me we were driving up to Atlanta so she could introduce me to her family. What I didn't know was that Atlanta had become one of the first cities in the country to register its citizens to the P3S. Crimes committed by and against the mentally ill were totally nonexistent. When we got to the hotel room, I finally realized the whole trip was an intervention, and both of her parents worked for Psychwatch. I tried to kill her then and there in the room. Beat the shit out of her and then tried smothering her with a pillow. Then her mother finally came in with her Fatemaker trained on me and..."

Margo and Holden looked down at Andrade's arm. She had closed her hand into a fist. Undoubtedly the same hand she used to nearly take her friend's life.

"I woke up several hours later in a hospital," Andrade continued, her voice softer and sullen. "My left arm was gone, just a shrinker around the stub where my elbow used to be. I was registered to the P3S as a Threat Level 3 substance abuser, and as ungrateful as I was, my life slowly began to improve after that. Sucks how you always gotta lose a part of yourself before you can get better. I attended rehab, got my new arm, got into sociology and law enforcement with the help of Psychwatch, and worked up the ranks as a doctor-cop. And here I am now. Inspector Daniela Andrade, recovered drug addict and proud Psychwatch officer."

Margo was impressed, but she didn't plan on admitting it to her superior. "What happened between you and Beth?" she asked.

"Well, we were never actually a thing. We experimented in more ways than one. But we were never a couple. I haven't spoken to her ever since I moved here, but I'm sure she's fine."

"Sorry about that."

"It's good. I'm not the kind of person who's easily forgiven. At least that's what her parents thought of me."

Suddenly, Margo's sympathy for her colleague decreased a bit. She couldn't have agreed more with her statement. But after having heard her life story, or a significant segment of it, she no longer felt like being unprofessional. At least not at that moment.

"So live a long, clean life, Sanger," Andrade told Holden. "Careful what you put in your body. Otherwise, other people might decide to put in things of their own."