Chapter 3: Claire
By the time I got out of the hospital, I was in full freak-out mode.
For most people, making a mistake is a normal part of life. It's unpleasant, but not panic-inducing. For us it's different: every time we fail to do something that we think we should have been able to do, a bell rings in our minds, asking: 'Is it just a mistake, or is it a sign of something far worse?'.
Is it the Disease?
Every wraith has a small ritual to test for the symptoms. These rituals are not always reliable, but it's better than nothing. My mom used to play the piano. I remember her playing to me every day, smiling, beautiful sounds of old music flowing through our small apartment and through me. Those moments were special to me, almost magical.
But I also remember her skill deteriorating, her melodies becoming slow and unsure, breaking, until one day all I could hear was the cacophony of mismatched notes. Her smile turning into confusion into terror. That was how we knew.
She taught me to play, too, but after she was gone I couldn't be close to a piano, let alone touch one. I invented my own ritual, as far away removed from hers as I could imagine. But it was a while since I felt the need to perform it.
I walked the streets looking for what I needed until I noticed a colorful sign above a glass door. The wind chimes rang when I came inside the toy store, and several customers, mostly women, gave me a glancing look. The thing I was looking for was easy to find: a simple Rubik's cube in a plastic cover. I bought it with the loose change from my pockets and hurried outside.
My feet took me to the lakeside, where grey water was freezing under a cloudy sky. I sat on a bench and unpacked the cube, nervous. My hands were shaking badly.
It took me a few minutes of breathing to calm down a little. I mixed the cube, trying not to pay attention to the feeling of dread rising in my chest. There are two ways to solve a Rubik's cube: one is improvisation, and the other one is memorization. The algorithms you need to memorize are not very hard, and if you practice long enough, your muscles will remember what to do. But I was very careful not to learn the algorithms. For me, solving a Rubik's cube was an exercise in three-dimensional thinking and creating mental abstractions. Which were some of the first things you lose when the Disease gets its claws into your mind.
So, maybe, If I can solve a Rubik's cube, I'm alright.
Finally, I sighed and started working. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. After a few minutes, though, the cube was done.