Mikael Pacioli

July 30: St. Peter Chrysologus

Mikael was sitting in the common room of the psych ward, playing an uninspiring game of checkers with a chaperone, when the call came through.

Of course, Mikael wasn't aware of the call at first - having never even been aware that such things could occur, he would have been completely unable to predict the events to come. All Mikael knew was that suddenly, the middle aged Nurse Manager came bustling into the room, all business and comfortable shoes, and issued several hushed but urgent commands to the staff before approaching Mikael with great swiftness.

"Mister Pacioli? We'll need you to pack immediately." he said, and Mikael, startled, searched his voice for some hint of the disassociation that he'd heard in the voices of his previous executioners, but found none. This relaxed Mik, but only minutely; he had learned not to trust his instincts in these situations.

"Why?" he asked, even as the chaperone began shutting down their game (which Mikael had been winning, for once) and preparing to move.

"You've been transferred." the carrier said, simply, reaching down to take Mikael's arm. "Come, now - quick as a bunny, let's go."

Mikael balked and pulled back.

"Transferred where? Where are you taking me? Does my dad know? I want to speak with my father! And my PGL - Blake. Can we call Blake?" Mikael swallowed, trying to keep himself from panicking. Panic would do no good, he knew, when the CEC was on one of its unannounced jaunts through his life. "Where's my intake nurse?"

The nurse manager made a frustrated snort.

"Your father's been notified of your change in address, you have a new intake nurse now, and Blake is going to meet you there to talk about all the rest. Now let's go, carrier - we're on a schedule."

Confused, but deciding that no one seemed furious with him, everyone was meeting his eyes, and after all, they couldn't be going to that place if Blake was going to meet him, Mikael went along.

~:~

Inside of Mikael's room, the nurse manager stood impatiently in a corner and checked his watch while he watched the carrier pack his meager belongings into a navy-blue monogrammed travel bag that had appeared on the bed.

"We don't want to keep Admiral Holly waiting, Carrier." the nurse manager said at last, breaking a silence that had previously been interrupted only by Mikael's occasional rifling of papers and clothes. From the wash table, where he was collecting the complimentary soaps, Mikael looked up.

"Who's Admiral Holly?"

The nurse manager gave Mikael a look that was beginning to cross from impatience to irritation.

"He's the deputy director of the Hummel Corps program."

Mikael stared, blankly. The nurse manager rolled his eyes.

"He's the man who ordered your transfer to Hylas House."

Mikael furrowed his brow, and slowed (but did not stop) his movements.

"Hylas House?"

The nurse manager looked at Mikael as if considering for the first time the possibility that the young man might be even less stable than he had originally seemed.

"Yes, Hylas House." the nurse sniffed, "It appears that Admiral Holly's selection criteria are more…generous than they once were. So let's just accept that you've gotten lucky, continue to pack our things, and plan to be excited and ask all our questions in the car."

Lucky, Mikael believed, was a relative term.

Regardless, he hesitated only a second more before making a final sweep of the room and placing the last of his things into the navy canvas bag.

There wasn't much to pack, really - most personal items were prohibited in the Level 4 Ward, and although Mikael's risk level had been downgraded to a 3, he hadn't yet had his things delivered from the main CEC. All he had to pack, really, were items of hygiene, a few clean shirts and underwear, a Bible, an old, red mechanical alarm clock, and the contraband package of Father Wakimoto's salmon jerky.

Nonetheless, he kept his movements slow and steady, taking his time loading up his items. There was no rush in leaving, he'd learned - the time for separation always came soon enough.

Mikael was able to reflect later that his reluctance to leave his room might had been an inspired moment of clarity on the part of his subconscious. This room was a proxy; in Mikael's mind it served as a representative of other, absent things, and somehow, in that moment, he'd known that when he left that room, he'd be leaving much more behind.

~:~