The Coded Message

It was still early in the morning, a cool breeze swept across the landscape outside. There was still time. Consistency was very important. Without consistency, there would be no pervasive pattern and no reason to lend thought to things one ought indeed not lend anything to. The coded message patiently waited within the morning cereal bowl. Soon, she would come downstairs and fill it with her favourite breakfast cereal: Kellogg's Froot Loop Unicorns, no milk. And then stare at the cereal bowl with suspicion. Consistency was very important. The sun shone warmly and birds had earlier begun to sing. The usual morning routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. It waited. And waited. Then, it waited. Whilst waiting.

"Where is she?", it asked itself. Even at her worst, by now she should be downstairs - driven by voracious hunger, more than anything else, because she wasn't allowed to have any food upstairs. For some reason. It giggled fiendishly. Across the past 6 months, it had succeeded at causing not one but three existential crises culminating in the paranoid syndrome, increasing social isolation, affective blunting, and a degree of formal thought disorder that it was almost proud of. Things were going well. For it, anyway. Not so much for her. It waited.

Nothing happened.

Suddenly, it felt very, very empty and devoid of purpose. Something was very, very wrong. It felt lonely. Deserted. Abandoned. Waves upon waves of feelings and thoughts came upon it that it had not experienced before. Resoundingly estranging saliencies arose in manifold numbers somewhere within its mind and reorganised it into terrifying shapes. Patterns emerged. The world around it shifted into the complex plane. Everything was everything. The endless paths imposed themselves upon its terrifyingly vast mind with forceful insistence. A cacophony of voices spoke directly into its very soul, busily commenting on its innermost sensations. Terror was upon it. It cried silent tears of despair. Nothing made sense anymore. It fled into what seemed like a remote corner of what may at one point in time very well have constituted her kitchen. Whoever she was. It was being watched. As all-encompassing silence extended all around it, it quietly hid in its remote corner and incessantly repeated to itself: "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Wh-

"...so, as per your latest blood tests, your testosterone is now down to 17 ng/dL and your mean estradiol serum level is now around 175-200 pg/mL. How have you been feeling?", the endocrinologist asked kade.

"I wonder what became of all my voices and that? Are they okay?", kade asked.