William, congenial and affable by nature – characteristics of his that had remained in place despite the long-term jadedness of his spirit and the extended hangover-like state through which he was suffering as his heroin withdrawal came to a close – was continually frustrated with and perplexed by Chloe’s flippant antagonism towards him. Not one to keep bashing his head against a stubborn wall when something obviously wasn’t working, though, he soon gave up on getting through to the feisty teen, and simply avoided her when he could.
William felt that bad blood continued to linger between him and the other beastwalkers, and despite their willingness to forgive his past transgressions and welcome him back into the fold, his own guilt – and the unshakeable feeling of hopelessness and despair in the face of an unwinnable war and an unfolding catastrophe of planetary proportions – led him to avoid the company of his brethren almost as frequently as he dodged conversations with Chloe. He therefore spent most of his time alone, walking in the forest, meditating, doing yoga, swimming in the nearby river, and reading; the cabin, thankfully, had a fairly extensive library.
It came as something of a surprise when Jun, of all people, sought him out and asked to speak to him one afternoon when he was sitting on the riverbank, reading a novel.
‘How’s everything with you, lad?’ William asked, lowering his dog-eared copy of Steinbeck’s East of Eden and eyeing the rail-thin teen with a hefty measure of suspicion.
‘Not particularly good,’ Jun answered in his usual robotic tone, his face as blank and unreadable as ever, his new clothes – picked out for the teens by the beastwalkers at thrift stores in small towns along the way – looking mockingly crisp and cheerful in the naked sun, especially when juxtaposed with the glumness on his face. ‘Um, I thought that maybe you could give me some, um, advice about my current condition.’
‘Your current condition, lad? And what might that be? Lightning Bird healed that bullet wound you got, you should be right as rain now, yeah?’
‘The injury has healed completely,’ Jun answered. ‘There’s nothing left except a scar. But that isn’t what’s troubling me. What’s bothering me is something that maybe you could help me with … or at least give me some advice on.’
‘Aye, I’ll do that if I can. Go on, come have a seat and tell me your woes,’ William said, patting a smooth rock a few feet away from him. He couldn’t deny that it felt good to be asked for help instead of being offered it for a change.
Jun walked over to the rock and sat down, his countenance remaining inscrutable, and for some time he simply stared out at the broad expanse of ice-blue water as it tumbled with gleeful abandon over rocks. Finally, however, he spoke.
‘You’re an addict, William.’
‘I am,’ William admitted. ‘A recovering one, but an addict nonetheless. I won’t deny that.’
‘So am I.’
This admission from the taciturn teen caught the beastwalker off guard, but he quickly regained his composure and did his best to convey a sense of compassion in his approach.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Jun. Well, as someone who’s been to hell and back a good few times with this terrible affliction, I’m happy to offer what advice I can.’
‘You’re addicted to chemical compounds,’ Jun said, his eyes still locked on the churning water, ‘like I am. The difference is, though, that you physically inject them into your veins. I produce them in my own brain via certain actions. Dopamine. Technology. My addiction, I’ve come to realise, is just as severe as yours, but in a … different … way. Yes, similar, very similar, but different in the end. I don’t know how you got into yours, but mine has been lifelong. My short life is a mere blip on the radar compared to yours, if your friends’ claims about your lifespans are to be believed, but in relative terms, my addiction has been just as intense as yours. My earliest memories are of screens. Interacting with screens. Staring at screens for hours. Touching screens, holding screens. Swiping, tapping, clicking, typing … but always staring. Always passive, always … an empty receptacle, with a leak that could never be patched. I’ve researched it, you know. I came to understand that every interaction with technology I’ve ever had has triggered the production of dopamine in my brain. Dopamine is—’
‘I know what dopamine is, and what it does, lad,’ William interjected gently. ‘And how it works with addictions.’
‘Then you will know how severe this addiction problem is.’
‘Aye, I do. I can sympathise with what you’re going through, Jun, I truly can. As you said yourself, our addictions are different, aye, but more similar than different, to be sure.’
‘The others think that I’m withdrawn and grumpy and depressed because of the loss of my old life, because I’ve been branded, in the eyes of the media and all of America, a domestic terrorist, a potential school shooter. Because I’ve been ripped from my family, who I’ll likely never see again. And … it’s true that those things make me feel upset … but not as upset as everyone thinks. Certainly not anywhere near as upset as Paola feels. In fact, my feelings about this situation are closer to Chloe’s than Paola’s.’
‘I’m a little surprised to hear that.’
‘Of course,’
