Sometimes, it is what you do that matters. Sometimes, it is who you are. Usually it is just being in the proper place at the proper moment in time with the will to act.

I found out later that we were kept in the waiting room for two reasons: It is easier to process a group of inmates at one time, than to do so individually; they wanted some of the freaks to get attacked before they were separated off from the convicts.

It seemed a really cruel system, but I saw what motivated it. They were afraid of those who had more power than they did. After seeing what the Beast had accomplished, I could understand that fear. At this point in the story, however, I knew nothing about any of this.

I sat there, uncomfortable, with Mary leaning into me for comfort that I was unable, or unwilling, to give. I still don't know which it was.

"Alright you lot of malcontents, listen up. Everyone on their way to the juvenile facility, stand up and move over to the green door. You know who you are. Move!"

Most of the individuals in the room got up and lined up before the green door. They shuffled out, and the police sergeant walked out of the room. There were only four of us left in the waiting room. The two who had been sitting on their own, another girl and a boy, moved over next to Mary and myself. The room began to fill up again, more rough looking types, with the occasional scared, fresh face, that I was starting to associate with people in my condition.

I'm not sure whether it was the police themselves, or some other criminal pseudo-telepathy, but there weren't any fights with this next group. A couple of the rougher types started to insult the innocent looking ones, but their buddies would nudge them, and gesture in my direction. I did my best to help the situation. I sneered. Hey, I was in drama, remember?

One or two went pale, a couple just swallowed. One guy got a really wierd look on his face, and his eyes went out of focus. He shook himself, blushed, and looked away. I really didn't want to know what thought process had caused that.

It took a couple of hours, but then the seargeant was back, the convicts shuffled out, and we were left with twelve. They grouped around me again. I began to feel a little uncomfortable. I had no idea why this was happening. It seems that these people were looking to me for protection, and I had no idea what I had done to evoke that response.

At this point I had been sitting here for about three hours. Mary was already here when I came in. I wondered how long she had been sitting here. I looked at the clock. It displayed 4am. I didn't dare fall asleep yet. More people started coming in. It seemed as though I was seeing a sizeable portion of the city come through.

"How can all of these people be arrested in this precinct alone?"

Mary looked up at me, as if coming out of a daze. "This is a routing center. All of the people who get arrested in the county come here."

That made a little more sense. There were about seven million people in the city and county surrounding it. I could easily see such a small percentage being arrested in such a relatively short timeframe. As I was thinking these thoughts, a group of kids was ushered into the room. They all seemed terrified. The oldest couldn't have been more than eight, and the youngest was probably five. There were seven of them.

We had come here to find a new body for Jams, but what had we found. The sheer oppression of even the most innocent of their people struck something within me and I began to cry. I couldn't help it. These were children. They couldn't know any better, and yet they were grouped with the teenagers going off to the sanitarium.

"Everyone take charge of one of the children," I heard someone speak, and it took a moment to realize it had been me.

We opened up our ranks a bit so that the children were surrounded by our presence. The other teens began to quietly talk to the children next to them, reassuring them about what the future might bring.

"Are you going to be my Mommy now?" asked a sweet little girl of about five or six who sat next to me.

"I'm not old enough to be your Mommy, sweetie."

"My old mommy didn't want me. She said I was evil, so she gave me to the police."

"It's ok, Honey." I didn't really feel it would be ok, but I needed her to feel relaxed.

"It's ok that you don't believe what you're saying, I know you mean well."

I'm not sure what shocked me more: the fact that she was reading my mind, or the fact that there was no pain when she did it. Weren't the same pain devices in place here as in the squad car?

"The pain devices are in the cars, because the psi shields are too big to fit in them. We can't get beyond this room, so they figure we should be able to do what we want here."

"Can they monitor us?"

Mary looked up at me like I was crazy. "Don't you know anything? Psi shields are complete. Nothing in or out. They can't monitor us because of the shield, and we can't affect them."

"I'm not from around here."

'Jams, are you ok? They didn't do anything to you did they?'

'I'm ok, Sis. I've hated not being able to talk to you at all, since you are the only one who can hear me.'

"Silly, other people can hear you, especially when you are so loud," said the little girl beside me. A few of the others laughed as well. "Why are there two of you in your head?"

I spent the next couple of hours explaining who I was, and where I was from. I told them about Jams dying, and the whole thing from beginning to end. I'm not sure if they beleived me, but they accepted my story.

"When you go back, can you take us with you?" This little girl seemed so lost, but I had no idea what to tell her. "My name is Naomi."

"Well, Naomi, I don't know if I can take you. So far I have only been able to take myself."

"I might be able to help there." said one of the older boys. He was probably about sixteen.

"How's that," I asked.

"I am a gestalt."

"A what?"

"I am able to share abilities from one person to another temporarily. Share the load in other words."

I looked at him a little strangely. This all seemed a little too convenient.

"I really can do it. Here, let me show you. Give me your hand, Naomi." She trustingly reached out her hand to him. "Now you, Milady." He said this last with a little grin. As soon as our hands touched, I could suddenly hear all of the thoughts around me. It took a moment or two to filter them out, but I was able to focus in and start listening to those around me. I turned back to the person who had enabled this just in time to see his grin change into something colder.

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. When are you going to learn that I am always out here waiting."

A shiver ran down my spine. "Beast." I whispered.

"See, you did miss me. Got it in one." His smile was like death, and his eyes like empty graves. "This child thought himself better than you, Jamie. No wonder really. He thought himself safe from, how did he put it? My pitiful attempts at mind games. Well, you saw how quickly he fell."

"Leave him alone!"

"Too late for that, Jamie-doll. Tory's left the building. It's all James in here all the time. WHOOO!!" HE tossed his head while saying this last bit. He almost seemed a caricature of himself.

One of the other younger girls walked up behind the Beast and put her hand to his head. He collapse, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Go away, bad man. Leave us alone."

Tory got up off the floor rubbing his head a little. "What happened?"

"You know damn well what happened. You tried to borrow my power and ended up almost becoming breakfast."

"I don't feel so good." He said right before he threw up on the floor.

"Alright, freaks. To the red door. Let's get you all to your new home and away from the people. MOVE!!!"

They marched us out to the bus. It had no windows like the police car. We were shoved in, and the door was shut behind us.

"I'm scared, Jamie."

"Me too."

A chorus of little voices, and some not so little, joined these.

"It's all right, little ones. They're just taking us to the sanitarium. We'll worry about that when we get there. For now, hold hands with the person next to you and think about better times."

"I don't remember better times."

Suddenly I felt very Julie Andrews, and it was all I could do not to break into song. My singing voice makes babies cry.

I decided to tell them a story instead:
A long time ago, in England, there lived a king. He ruled his people well, and his knights were known for their bravery and adherence to justice. He ruled them as an equal. They sat in council, not at an ordinary rectangular table with a head and a foot, and levels of inequality in between, but at a round table where all were equal in the sight of their god.

"There is nothing to forgive, Husband."

The bus stopped abruptly at this point. The children all wanted to hear more, which I promised to give to them later. Jams smiled at me. 'I love that dream.'

They took us into a drab windowless building. What was with these people and artificial lighting. 'Maybe it's to keep people from looking in?'

I thought for a moment before answering her, 'I think it's to keep us from looking out.'

We were led into a small room with shower heads along all the walls.

"Strip" a sexless voice demanded from a speaker in the ceiling.

We looked at each other wondering where the boys and girls would go to be separate. "Strip now, all of you."

We quickly removed our clothing, standing naked in the shower room. "Close your eyes!" said one of the others urgently. I didn't wait to ask questions. I closed my eyes. Almost instantly I felt the sting of the not quite water beat down on my skin. The chemical stink of it filled the air. The beating went on for a minute or two before the voice began and the water stopped in the same instant. "Move to the exit."
We shuffled to the exit. We walked, naked, down a glass lined corridor. "These are your fellow inmates. Welcome to hell." We watched the slack faces of the other people lined along the outside of the glass. Some of them were children like those with me. Others were much older. The sight sickened me.

I caught a gleam in Tory's eye before he saw me watching, and then he showed the horror that showed in the other children's eyes. There was certainly something wrong with Tory.

We got to the end of the corridor, and they clothed us in identical grey jumpsuits. They were only one size, with drawstrings to adjust it from there. The littlest children looked like the Michelin man. Suddenly I knew that they planned for us to be here a long time. The old people had lived their entire lives in here. The realization made me want to vomit.

"Jamie, are you ok?" Mary asked me. "I can feel your anguish."

It made sense that Mary would be empathic. 'Move over counselor Troi.' Jams said with a grin.

'Who?'

She was a bit flabbergasted.

The voice guided us along to our new quarters. I never saw a living being, besides the patients, that entire first day. We huddled in the empty room wondering what would happen to us now.

The doors locked. "There will be no food until you take your medicine."

Little cups appeared next to the name plates at the head of each bed. I put the pills in my mouth and pushed them to another reality. It felt as though smaller objects required less energy.

I knew what my pills felt like, so I tried to push all of the other pills in the room to join them. I had to walk halfway down the room before I was sure that they were all gone, and then I almost passed out. Mary helped me to my bed, and went to get my dinner for me. I would have to figure a better way to keep us all clean.

We ate breakfast, returned our trays to the receptacles in the room, and the doors locked again. "Sleep now so your medication will take proper effect." The lights went out as soon as the last person got into bed.

Someone began to sing a soft lullaby, and we all went to sleep.