Niko hums and sings to himself as if I’m not here. I just follow along, observing him and hoping to figure out which drug he’s on. They’ve deactivated the elevators from a security room and Thore checks the cameras each night. They don’t have any way to communicate once they’re out here besides the security intercom so there’s a limitation right there. One benefit is that whoever is trying to move through the building will need to bash in the portion of the lock that verifies identities like I did or maybe pry a door open. I doubt anyone is strong enough to do that besides Thore.

Niko isn’t taking this patrol seriously at all. It‘s no wonder we were able to get in here and shelter without them noticing us first. Maybe they did notice us, and chose to leave us be, I’d have to ask Thore if he saw us. Niko is doing sloppy combat rolls into different rooms and pretending to draw a gun on people who aren’t there, with a gun he doesn’t have. His lanky frame tumbles without grace across the cold hard hospital floors but it doesn’t deter him. I manage to spot a few bruises on his arms where he’s probably done this every time he has patrol.

“Hey Niko, you never did tell us how you met the group,” I try to start a conversation.

“Oh,” he suddenly remembers I’m here. “Thore brought me in. He saw me out there trapped by some of the grubs, trying to protect myself by just running fast,” then he continues to play action hero.

Does nothing get through to this kid, “what were you doing before Thore brought you in?”

“Just hanging out, trying to figure out what to do, a little home chemistry.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he’s an adult, and he probably created whatever drug he’s on.

“Did you want to go to school for chemistry?”

“School didn’t work for me. I got kicked out when I was sixteen.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he gets serious.

“I’m sorry to accuse you,” he’s still a kid who doesn’t like being accused. Adult by law but still very much an adolescent. “What did they say you did?”

“There was a series of stabbings and I got blamed.”

“Why did they blame you,” I have to keep asking him questions to get more information from him as if I’m focusing his brain for him.

“Because I liked to practice self-harm. Sometimes they’d lock me up for my own good. I guess, they just assumed I started hurting other people, but it wasn’t me. I heard after I got blamed, the stabbings didn’t stop but they got rid of me, and I was a problem child.”

“Is that why your parents decided to come here?”

“Yeah, they wanted to give me a fresh environment but you can’t just move someone and hope everything changes. I had the same issues, and when I turned 18, they left.”

I understand why the kid stays high out of his mind now. Doesn’t mean I have to allow it allow it, or encourage it. I just need to find a way to get through to him without sounding like I’m lecturing him. I’m thinking back to the basic psychology classes I had to take and nothing is jumping out at me. Perhaps if I share some information about myself, it’ll encourage him to give me more.

“Something similar happened to me,” I start after he dives into a room as if he’s shooting two guns.

“Really, I find that hard to believe,” he laughs from the ground.

“I’m serious, Marshall can verify my story.”

“What happened?”

“Like you, I was a problem child. I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else. I was just, angry, all the time. I’d break things. Windows, walls, electronics, vehicles and anything else I could get my hands on. I spent a lot of time being bounced around, hospitalized, locked up, forced to attend different religious meetings, and everything else you named. None of it worked, it just made me angrier. Then one day, a server was destroyed at the school I was attending. The obvious answer was to blame me, but the thing is I didn’t even know where the server room was. On top of that, it was wiped before it was destroyed. I’ve never been a hacker, and I’m still not. I got shipped off to military school after that. I’m lucky I had parents who kept trying. They didn’t give up on me and lead to some self-destructive path like addiction,” there it is. That’s my hook.

“Addiction, you think I’m an addict?”

“I noticed you were high when I met you. Pupil dilation, erratic behavior. When you mentioned home chemistry, that was confirmation. I think you’re an addict, but I think we’re all addicted to something. If we left today, you’d be a liability. If you stopped cold turkey, you’d probably go through withdrawals out there, and that would not be good. I want you to stop, you have to stop, for your own good. I’ll be here every step of the way. Detox and everything afterwards. If you have a bad thought come get me.”

Niko doesn’t answer me, he just turns his back and continues to check for any intrusions as if I said nothing. He still dives, and does combat rolls, but they’re in silence now. I got him, but he’s trying to act if nothing has changed, but I can tell. He’s doing everything not to face me right now, thinking of my words.

“You’re not making fun of me right,” Niko asks with his back turned to me.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ll really help me?”

“I promise.”

“You’re not going to leave or decide I’m too messed up right?”

“I meant every word I said.”

“Then I need to show you something.”

We finish the designated route before Niko leads me to a locker near the living quarters of the hospital. He quickly inputs a button combination, and opens the locker. He reaches into a backpack and pulls out a large sandwich bag full of what look to be orange colored pellets.

“I call them sunshine, my life’s work. The only thing I’m proud of. One will keep you going for five days. I’ve sold some to folks off world, and they’ll probably replicate it, but this is the last original batch. Please don’t destroy it, but keep it away from me until this is all done. I’ll want them back. There aren’t any withdrawals so I should be fine all clean in two days. I not an addict. I just get bored, and when I get bored, I get dark thoughts. Creating stuff like this,” he rolls the bag around in his hands, “it takes my mind off it, and when it doesn’t the actual pills do a pretty good job. But take it,” he hands me the bag.

We head back to a few patient rooms, just so I can find a bag to place the pills in so I don’t look suspicious. I can just claim I liked the bag. Niko doesn’t think he’s an addict, but I do. Until I see that there are no withdrawal symptoms, I’m still going to keep an eye on him. I might do that even afterwards. My upbringing was terrible, but I had people who at least tried to guide and shape me. He never had that. It’s sad, because if what he says is true, he has a real talent for chemistry.

“Hey, Niko, can I tell you something else?”

“Someone once told me, you’re not a problem child. You’re a star child, you just don’t know it yet.”

“Wow, did you take some Sunshine that fast,” he laughs.