I go to a psychic to have my palm read, And instead she tells me there's an entity in the room with a message. This being wants me to know that every person is born with a mark, and by this mark its species can determine who is meant to live a life of fortune, and who is destined to experience misery.
The role of this species in the tapestry of fate is to ensure that human lives follow their assigned course. Whenever they deviate, These creatures are meant to interfere and correct them. The psychic then looked frightened. I asked what was the matter. She said the entity is very angry with her for pretending to know the course of human lives, because they are certain they are the only species empowered to do so.
By giving people false predictions, psychics like herself have contributed to the misery of their species, as it's demanded a greater effort on their part to manipulate individuals led astray by false readings. “In your case especially,” she begins, then pauses. Then vanishes. Thinking it all must be part of the show, I leave the small room, out to where the rain slicked pavement is lit by her neon sign…
Once home, I try to construct a timeline of my life. What mark did I bear, I wondered, one of fortune or misfortune? Suddenly I feel a chill crawl up my arm, and feel a heaviness coming from a further corner of the room, one which my lamp doesn't quite reach.
I stare at this corner for some time, not making out anything but the detritus that's normally there. Then I switch off the lamp. And just for a moment, right as the light blinks out and darkness takes its place, I think I see the outline of something. Tall, but asymmetrical, like the silhouette of a scarecrow that's been crucified on a rotten plank.
That's just what it smells like, too. Wet earth. Field musk. Rain. Insects. Then, it vanishes.
Some nights later, I'm out again, and again I've arrived a little too early. The intermittent rain continues on and I look around for some place to duck inside. The orange glow of P S Y C H I C creates a a warm halo around my boots. I decide to go in. I'm not sure why… I think, maybe I'll have a more relaxing experience this time and I'll forget all about the last one.
The reading begins usual enough. This guy is hunched over a knock-off emerald gem mounted on a gilded hand on the table between us. He tells me I'll have a very important decision to make very soon. Then, something shifts in his body language. His back goes straight and his eyes dart side to side, as if he's between two speakers and trying to register both conversations at once. Then he says there is some sort of presence in the room and it wants me to know that if i don't return to my assigned path immediately there will be severe consequences not just for me but for all human beings. Then, he too vanishes…
What do I do? I've deviated from my path in life. But how? And how can I return to it without any idea of what it is? And why should my behavior have consequences for everyone else? It doesn't seem like a fair burden to put on one unexceptional person's shoulders. Should I make myself more miserable, or less?
There's only one answer. Like the homeopaths of old, I will take an enormous dose of destiny and observe the effects. I decide to walk directly into traffic, reasoning that if I'm not injured by this dangerously impulsive act, then I must be on the lucky side of fate's forked paths. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital, surrounded by family members.
I'm told I was hit while crossing the street. It was raining and dark. I'm going to be alright though, they say. Just need to stay in a few days to be monitored. After a while, they leave. The smell of rain-drenched cornfield returns. I can see it this time, something standing in the corner of the room, and it is nearly as tall as the television mounted in the far upper corner.
A voice speaks. “It could have been worse,” is all it says. “It could have been so much worse for all of you. “