Episode 9 — Let the mind sigh
The Scene
Broklin entered apartment 14, rainwater streaming down his face and mingling with the neon lights that shone through his face. Broklin stood in the center of the room, motionless. The stillness of the environment was aggressive. There was no sound of her breathing. There was no warmth from her body. The only proof that Kelma had been there was the brutal absence she left behind.
He brought his hands to the nape of his neck, fingers interlacing in his hair in a gesture of contained frustration. His mind, trained to solve complex equations and master audio frequencies, was now running in an infinite loop he couldn't close.
Mental Flow
The song lyrics began to play inside his head, not as a melody, but as a diagnosis: "There’s a current of love in the air… That moves my blood… That moves my mind…"
He felt it. It was physical. An electric current that didn't come from the outlet, but from the memory of her skin against his. He wanted to scream. A silent scream, stuck in his throat: AH-AH-AH-AH! But the Tech Lead doesn't scream. He processes.
The Fight Against Desire
He walked to the roof of the building, looking at the neon city that seemed indifferent to his pain. "Oh-oh-oh I don’t want pain… I want love…" He bit his lip, tasting the metallic flavor of truth. He didn't want to be the "other." He didn't want clandestinity. He wanted her. Simple as that. Complex as that.
Logical Hallucination
"This mind is so crazy… It imagines things, perceives what it doesn’t see…" For a split second, his mind was projecting holograms of hope where only loneliness existed.
"Did she regret it?" doubt whispered. "Was I just a compilation error in her night?"
Acceptance of Failure
But then came resignation. The acceptance that logic had lost the war. "Crazy thoughts full of evil… But that gives me freedom to have you…" Dangerous thoughts. Selfish thoughts. The desire for her to drop everything—drop Jonah, drop safety—and come to his silent chaos.
Broklin returned to the apartment and threw himself on the sofa, his body heavy, processor overheated from thinking so much. He looked at the dark ceiling, surrendered. There was no code to fix this.
Broklin (whispering to the void): "…let the mind sigh."
