Psilocybin Twenty-Seven

“Mom?” I asked.

She slapped the papers onto the table. “I’m not stupid,” she hissed. Her eyes were locked onto me, and what I saw in them had my stomach twisting up into a knot. There was anger there, sure, but her eyes were filled with tears, and I had the impression that she was on the verge of crying. Then she took a deep breath through her nose, and the anger and sadness receded. What was left was an emotion that I couldn’t read. “Your fath-- Roger was a smart man. He always told me that our little mushroom wasn’t just a normal child. That you were smarter than anyone else’s kid, and I know that’s true.”

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I said. “But--”

“I wasn’t done,” she muttered.

I stopped. I had half a dozen social skills. Some of them were decently strong; I practiced them and tried to make them grow. And yet I was suddenly quite intimidated.

“You have your own business. You deal with those Union people, but you sell food to normal folk. You made friends across the city. I’ve met people that know of you, at work and elsewhere. Some people think that you’re going to be one of those great geniuses one day, if the city doesn’t crush you. And I know you went to that school, disguising yourself like a boy. I didn’t like it, but I was still proud.”

I nodded, slowly.

“Did you destroy the dungeon?”

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

She didn’t hit me or anything. I kind of wish she had. Instead, I watched the woman, my mother, fold in on herself and sob. “Gods. All of you, forgive me,” she said.

“Mom?” I asked. “I... you don’t understand, I had to.”

“I don’t understand,” she agreed. “I don’t understand how we could have given birth to a demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” I said.

“Do you regret it?” she asked me.

I took a small step back. “What?”

“Do you know how many people died? Of course you do! You’re smart. You saw when Roger... passed. You can’t not know. People died in the riots. There were parts of the city that burned. People were without work, and some of them still are. I know some of them. They have families to feed. And now you did it again?! I know it was you! I heard the descriptions. The clouds, the gas. You talked to me about it.”

I swallowed. “Did you tell anyone?” I asked.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” she shouted, finally snapping enough to raise her voice. She went quiet right after. “Are you more worried that you’ll have to face consequences for what you did than anything else?”

I stood my ground. “Yes,” I said. “Because we’re not staying here. If you told people, then that’ll make escaping harder.”

“Escaping?” she asked.

“I destroyed the dungeon. I destroyed Ditz too. I’ve killed plenty of people. I don’t think I killed many that didn’t deserve it. If all goes well, I’ll be killing more.”

My mom stepped back, a hand going over her mouth. The tears were back. “Why?”

“Because the world is ending,” I said. “Or nature is. Feronie warned me, and--”

“She’s an evil god!” my mom said. “Is that it? Were you tricked by her? We can go to the church. One of them, they’ll help!”

I shook my head. “No, Mom.”

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“They’ll forgive you, right? You’re just a child! Someone had to be telling you what to do, even if you’re smart and clever. That goddess had her hands on you, and lead you down a dark path, but there are some who--”

“Mom!” I barked. She stopped.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring across at each other.

“I...” I paused. I needed to get my thoughts in order, which took a moment. “Mom. I’m leaving the city. Probably tomorrow. At most the day after. I want you to come with me. No, wait, let me finish. We can’t stay. I don’t know what you plan on doing about me, but no matter what, we can’t stay here. The slums will burn. There are already riots starting, and the Union is preparing for a war. Tomorrow’s trains out of City Nineteen might be the last ones. They’ll be expensive, and we can’t bring much, but I can afford it. But no matter what, we need to leave. This city is done for.”

“You destroyed it,” she said.

“Yes. And I’m going to destroy another, after. That’s my mission. That’s what I’m here for. Feronie... She's not a bad goddess. I’d never describe her as good, but she's not evil. The ones who are evil aren’t gods at all. It’s the nobles and the owners. The people that put things in place so that good people like dada die.”

“Don’t bring your father into this,” she said.

“It’s far too late for that,” I replied. “Dada became part of this before he was killed, even. You too, in a way. But I can only blame the victims so much. Mom, we can talk about this later.”

“Later?” she asked.

“In another town, or another city. Somewhere else. We need to pack.”

“And you expect me to just abandon everything because you told me to?” she asked. “This is my home. I have a job. I have friends.”

“This isn’t a good home. You and Dada made the best of it, but we both know that this isn’t a good place. Your job isn’t worth much. They’re manipulating you, and you know it, and they treat you no better than cattle. And your friends... I’m sorry about those. But they’re going to be swept up in the destruction too.”

I was winning her over, I could see it. It wasn’t like my logic was all that complicated and--

“No,” she said.

“What? But Mom.”

“Just... get out,” she said. “Get out. I can’t do this. You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to be distracted from the fact that my little mushroom is a murderer!”

I leaned back on my heels. “Mom, if you stay you’re going to die!”

“And what about the people you killed? Did they have a choice?”

“Yes!” I shouted right back. “They could have been good people.”

“You made the same choice as they did, then!” she sniped back.

My hands were clenched so hard my nails were almost drawing blood. I had to step out of here, but then, my Mom was being a liability. If she ran to the bullies and... no, actually, it was unlikely to do anything. They were too tied up in the riots, and my Mom didn’t know who to reach out to. That, and I was certain that for all her bluster, she harboured a deep distrust of the men in uniform, just like everyone else in the slums.

I slowly unclenched my hands. “Fine,” I said. “You’re right. I’m not a good person.” That wasn’t hard to admit. I was never one for moralizing, but I knew that I was objectively a bad person. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me, or even be happy with what I’ve done. I had my reasons but... yeah. Mom, I need you to come with me. If you stay here, you’ll die.”

“Would you even be upset?” she threw back at me. “Do you even care? Sometimes you’re gone for days, weeks.”

“I do!” I replied. “I do. Please. “

“You can’t make me leave,” she said.

“If you stay, you’ll get caught up in everything,” I said. “I have a few pounds saved up. I was going to invite Bet, and the other girls. They could use you as well? There’s enough for all of us. We’ll leave, go to another city, set up. If you want, I can even promise not to do my dirty business there.”

“But you’d do it elsewhere?” she asked.

“It needs doing. This is bigger than either of us,” I said with a wide gesture. “This is about changing the world.”

“By killing people?” she asked. I could tell that some of her energy was gone.

“Is there any other way? Do you think the factories didn’t have a cost in lives? The delvers? The bullies? The world paid in good people to be the way it is, and now we’re making it pay the same price to return it how it was. But you have to know that it’s not good now.”

My Mom breathed in through her nose, a wet, disgusting sound. “I... where would we go?”

“Wherever the next train out can take us,” I said. “Tomorrow would be ideal, but the day after, maybe. I think the city will stand that long.” It would be chaotic, and messy, but that’s how it was. Riots and big change happened in waves, and even the worse of the last riots had entire afternoons where nothing happened. Rioters needed to eat and sleep too.

“I’m not going to help you,” my Mom said.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“And I don’t want you to kill people anymore. This... this isn’t over.”

I nodded again. “Okay, Mom. Okay.”

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