She told me that she could turn off my nerves. That's how it started.

Just nerves, my OB-GYN said. Happens to everyone. Might have been hormones talking. Might have been pandemic-related. God, this pandemic fucking sucks. Worst possible time to get pregnant.

She said pain is just a signal. She said she could turn it down, like turning down the volume on the radio. She turned off my nerves.

(Where are you, Kat said. Amanda briefly had the odd sensation that Kat was standing right in front of her, and yet Amanda couldn't see her. Wasn't important.)

I'm in my house, like I have been ever since the pandemic started. I'm sitting on the couch. At least I think I am. Can't feel the couch under me. Can't feel anything.

(You're numb, aren't you?)

Yeah. She turned off my nerves. Can't feel anything.

(Stella. A dreamy smile played over Amanda's lips as she heard the name.)

She's on the couch with me. She said there was a slider on my hand, and all she had to do was sit next to me and touch it. That's how she turned off my nerves. Just strokes my hand, over and over, until I don't feel anything. She said this is how it will be when the contractions are at their worst and I need to push my hardest. It's really nice.

(What does Stella do next?)

She turns off my nerves. I don't feel anything any more. My body from the neck down. It's like going to the dentist. She tranced me like that one time. I sat back in a recliner and she held a flashlight aimed at my eyes. Like the light over a dentist's chair. I said, "How am I going to relax when I'm thinking of the dentist?" But then, the light. I got lost. Light. Lost.

(Focus, Amanda. What does Stella do next?)

She turns off my nerves. I don't even know what I was nervous about. Can't remember. She asks me if I can feel the baby kicking. I can't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

She says, "But the baby is kicking, I can feel it." And I. I don't know.

She says, "You really can't feel anything, can you?" I can't. I can't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

She says, "What kind of mother doesn't feel anything?" And I.

(Amanda was silent for nearly a full minute. Kat could have made a suggestion, or repeated Focus, Amanda yet again, but her intuition told her not to.)

She says, "You really can't feel anything, can you?" I can't. She turned my nerves off.

She says, "What kind of mother doesn't feel when the baby is kicking?"

(Doesn't matter if you're talking about a religious cult, a multilevel marketing scheme, or an Army drill sergeant, Kat had said to Marisa once. The key to a good brainwashing is repetition. She listened to two more cycles before Amanda remembered...)

I thought of this one time I was in Times Square, and I saw a mother yell insults at her kid for picking their nose. And when I got on the subway I thought, Am I just as bad, because I didn't say anything? And I realized she was the mother who wouldn't feel anything when the baby was kicking. And I was just as bad, because I didn't feel anything.

(Kat watched Amanda's glassy, half-open eyes. Amanda had relegated this story in her trance monotone, with no sign of emotion. Kat said, Did you tell Stella about the mother in Times Square?)

I didn't need to. From the tone of her voice. She already knew. She knew the baby was kicking when I didn't. She knew everything.

She says, "How are you feeling, Amanda?" I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

She says, "Why don't you watch the ceiling fan for a little while?" The fan is spinning. Slowly. Lost.

(Focus, Amanda. What does Stella do next?)

She says, "Look here, Amanda." I look, and Sean is there. He's naked.

She says, "Sean looks good, doesn't he, Amanda?" Yes, he does.

She says, "How does he look so good, Amanda? There's a pandemic. The gyms are closed." He isn't pregnant.

She laughs and says, "Just like all those models that work for you, yes?" Yes.

She says, "It's so difficult to lead by example, yes?" Yes.

She says, "Sean should take the lead, yes?" Yes.

She lifts up her skirt. She isn't wearing any underwear. She says, "Sean, use your tongue." He starts going down on her.

She says, "Look close, Amanda." I look but her dress is in the way.

She says, "Has he ever done this for you?" No, not ever.

Her hips start bucking as she comes. He's making these grunting sounds. She says, "Do you want to see this, Amanda?" No.

She says, "Look close, Amanda." I look as Sean slumps to the floor. He looks like he's sleeping. His erection is bigger than I've seen in months.

She says, "Sean, you need to keep going." He stands up right away. He puts his hands on her hips, like he wants to. Um. His erection is so big.

She pushes him away. She's smaller but she pushes him away. She says, "With your tongue, fool!"

(How does he feel about being pushed like that?)

I don't know. His face is blank. He starts going down on her again.

She smiles at me and says, "He's intense, yes?" I don't know but I say yes because. Yes.

She says, "He must have practice, yes?" Yes.

She says, "He must have practice with me, yes?" Yes.

She says, "How do you feel about that?" I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

She starts moaning with pleasure. "He never does. Oh! This for you. Oh my God. And you feel nothing?" I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

(Kat shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Amanda's impression of Stella's pleasure had been just good enough for her to worry about passers-by. Maybe doing this in public had been a bad idea.)

She says, "What kind of mother doesn't feel anything?" And I.

(Again, Amanda stared at nothing in silence for many seconds. Again, Kat bit her tongue.)

I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off. And she asks me what kind of mother I am and I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off. I don't feel anything about feeling anything. Doesn't matter what I feel. I don't matter.

(Another long silence followed. Finally Kat said, Focus, Amanda. Did she say anything else?)

She came a few more times. Then she said, "Tell me about the Syndicate." I don't know.

She says, "You know about the Syndicate." I. What? I don't know.

She says, "How do you feel about the Syndicate?" I don't feel anything. She turned my nerves off.

She puts a hand on my forehead and says SLEEP

(Amanda said the magic word in a booming voice, like a street hypnotist dropping a wandering college co-ed, and she collapsed against Kat. Kat counted her up from 1 to 10, trying with each number not to scream Eureka! to the heavens.)

TO BE CONTINUED