Pxan life was already full of problems and tasks and now...now he also had to exercise breathing. What a horrible fate. The doctor also gave him other advice, he said that getting more sunlight and doing exercise could help with his sleep and that a small change in his diet could have huge results. “Doctors will always be doctors. Thinking to know what is best for people”

A few days after he got denounced for being “strange”, when he went to work and read the denounce he was amazed: >

Pxan looked at the flinching screen for a few seconds before fully realizing what that meant.” People those days don’t mind their businesses”, in a few minutes the denounce, and all denounce to come because of his breathing exercises would be archived, the time in which he passed sleepless nights and anxious days because of a denounce or a weirdness were long gone. He was a policeman, he had a stability that many people envied. Of course, there were limits, but this little denounce would do nothing to him. Nothing.

>

“Not again, what it will be now? A promotion? A degradation? A cut in pay”

When he entered all of his muscles were tense, Pxan had to take a few deep breaths in order to relax.

>

Pxan heart begun to race

>

>

>

Pxan looked straight in his eyes, he didn’t know what to do, he was paralysed, he had never rebelled against a superior, he never directly disobeyed an order (except that one in the underground), he was sweating like he was in a furnace.

> he exited his office and went to the bathroom.

He didn’t want to return home, his home was a mess. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to find an outlet for all of this repressed rage. But where he could beat a few folks without fearing retail?

He did what very few people did, travelled from a higher to a lower district. The council wanted to pass a law that made it impossible for people to travel without a valid reason; the law was nearly immediately rejected, mostly because of illegal and criminal lobbies. Whatever.

He walked for a very long time in those squalid, decadent, quarters. Children’s came closer to him, hoping that he had some coins to spare, before immediately running away after Pxan showed them the pistol and they realized how angry he was. He wouldn’t have shot at children’s...but if they came too close probably he would have had to break a few bones.

A man was coming closer to him, he stank like a dead rat, he had palpitation and his tongue was speaking strangely > not even the time to finish the phrase that a truncheon nearly broke his jaw. Pxan arm hurt badly afterwards, he had pushed the prosthetic too far. He didn’t care “Piece of shit, look at yourself, how can you define yourself as a human being? The same race as me?” thought Pxan, not remembering that those were the words of citizenship professors.

>

Pxan tried in any way to hide his grim smile at the professor, this ideology was the reason why he was so “diligently and systematized” discriminated.

He didn’t know how this broken system came to be, where or how those voices propagated but from the moment he set foot on Yigras, the great mother and colonizing ship, he was called a savage, an occultist, a pagan and an idiot. He would understand only years later why people hatted Carlarians so much.

When he remerged from his thoughts he didn’t know where he was.