Still no word about the fate of my friend “Toby”. I have made a few connections among the staff here (being able to help them with their children’s homework helps) and when they know something about how he is doing in his new life in the Powered ward, I will know too.

I don’t know what I am expecting to hear. From all I have gathered about the Powered ward, his fate will be identical to all the other chemical zombies there.

And to think, the people in charge here consider that the humane option. After all, the patients are easy to manage and they are, in a highly insipid and demeaning way, “happy”.

I, for one, would rather die.

Speaking of death (always a favorite topic around here), my main worry for my friend is that his slippery, clever personality will find a way to play games with people’s minds even in the Powered ward, and he will get himself in enough trouble to get transferred to that most dreaded of wards, the Uncontrollable Powered ward.

The powers that be deny it exists, but my people in the Powered ward have seen patients disappear and never come back. Shortly thereafter, their records disappear from the computer, and people who ask about them end up facing disciplinary action on one trumped up charge or another.

The message is clear. These people were never hear.

This happened to someone I worked with once, whom I will call The Minotaur. There was no question of him being in the Unpowered ward. He is indestructible, has unlimited stamina, is strong enough to throw a small building into orbit, and can dominate people with his mind.

He is also an excellent cook and plays a very cunning game of chess. We got along well enough.

And to his credit, he fooled them for a while. He acted like a drugged out zombie, even though the drugs barely had any effect on him, and blended into the flock while he planned his escape.

My people claim they were never fooled (as people do) but didn’t think it was important. They learned different.

One day, an orderly dropped a tray right into the game of chess the Minotaur was very slowly playing with a fellow inmate, and the Minotaur unthinkingly backhanded him into the nearest wall.

The orderly, I am told, will recover. His legs, however, will not.

After that, the Minotaur was subjected to all kinds of tests that proved he was not controllable, and within an hour of the incident, a doctor none of them recognized came to transfer the Minotaur to a “special facility” for “individual treatment”, and all the paperwork checked out, so they had to let him go.

And now, he only exists in people’s memories.

Rumors are rife as to what happens to people like him. There are dark tales of tortuous devices draining their victims of life force and keeping them on the very edge of death so they can be studied anyhow the scientific sadists please.

Personally, I assume they just kill them. It’s what I would do in their place.

So I worry for my friend “Toby”. A lot of people would assume that for people of my ilk, true friendship is impossible because there is no way we could ever trust one another.

I would argue that the lack of trust makes our friendships all the stronger. When you go into things knowing that both of you would kill the other in a heartbeat if it served their needs, you can build your relationship with that in mind.

I know I could never trust “Toby”. He is, after all, an alien life form genetically programmed to loathe humanity with his entire being, to the point where he looks at us as an exterminator looks at bedbugs.

And of course, knowing this, I view him similarly, and would end him in a moment if they opportunity arose.

And yet, I am also quite fond of him, and I think he feels the same about me. We respect one another. We recognize in the other qualities we value. And most importantly, we enjoy talking to one another.

Perhaps that doesn’t fit the usual mold of friendship, but it works for us. Oh, and sex and romance work similarly.

Had a visitor today. A former foe. Not sure what the policy is on using their names, so I will call him Solomon. He visits now and then, whenever he wants to relive his glory days.

At first, I enjoyed these visits as much as he did, and for the same reason. But over time I have learned to dread them, because his deterioration upsets and depresses me. He is clearly drinking again, and getting into senseless fights, and who knows what else. He just cannot adjust to civilian life.

If I had know that this would be the outcome of my stripping him of his powers, I would have…. well, I suppose I would have done it anyway. But now… I feel responsible.

That’s why, despite my dread, I could never turn him away. That’s unthinkable. Not only because I feel responsible for his condition, but the way he talks sometimes gives me the impression that our visits are the only things keeping him together.

I have no idea what would happen if I turned him away. Maybe nothing. But he and I have a long history together, and I have always admired and respected him despite his proclivity for foiling my plans. He was a strong and noble warrior fighting for the highest ideals when we clashed swords, and I never begrudged him his enmity for me. I didn’t even share it.

After all, I would feel the same if I were in his position.

And I refuse to let someone like that fall apart if there is a single thing I can do to prevent it, or at least slow it down.

My worst nightmare concerning him is that he does someone drastic and ends up in a place like this.

I have now “journaled” the requisite number of words, and thus, I conclude.