“In exchange for agreeing to work for us, we will provide you with a place to live and a reasonable income to provide for yourself. You’ll be expected to reside in the city, keep regular hours, and be available at all times. Think of yourself as…an extra hand for the Paladins of Light. Someone who can inform us and explain things,” the Doc explains. I almost ask him what’s to keep me from running off before I remember the noose still coiled back in my room. It’s not like I have anywhere to run. “You want me to sell out my own people?” I ask. “You already said you were apathetic towards any philosophical considerations concerning humanity. You’re cured, Mr. Shade. They aren’t your people anymore. What else were you going to do?,” the Doc replies. It’s not like I have anyone to go to either. I can’t even imagine what Sunshine or Dingo would say if they met me as a human. “What’s to keep me from just getting bitten again and going back to it all?” Ferris snorts and pulls out a cigarette for herself on that one. “You’ll find that you are no longer a viable host for the virus, Mr. Shade. I’m afraid the cure is permanent. You’ll understand that soon enough or maybe not, depending,” the Doc answers. A part of me wants to ask what they plan for me to depend on. What the big deal is. But that cold feeling in my stomach isn’t just nausea at needing to eat, it’s real fear. It’s the real idea of choosing between the noose and trying to carve out a living. Trying to be human. I sign the form and hand it back without another word.
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