The Empath

Written By Felicia York


She loved him in the days where love had been replaced with receptors and transmitters; neurological synapses that conveyed meaning without feeling. The humans elected not to feel long ago as emotion caused many of the crimes they experienced in the past. Separating themselves into groups, they were the entities and empaths. Entities ate in order to fuel their bodies, they slept when fatigue plagued them, they had sex to procreate and they flourished. The pursuit of pleasure, the attempt to appease their ego was kept at a minimum. There was antiseptic peace among them.

Shyra felt differently, electing to become an empath. Empath communities were spread throughout the colony of New York City. Hiding in the depths of the municipality, they struggled to keep the relic institutions of their old lives in tact. Schools, synagogues, mosques, churches, hospitals and other empath-only businesses were kept in the darkness as they were targeted and systematically disenfranchised. Entities hated what they stood for and wanted them dead. The death of an empath was taken lightly for empaths were seen as weak; the last of the species anyway and any attempt to shorten their existence was secretly applauded.

And in the midst of the calculated chaos, Shyra loved him, an entity. She knew it was foolish to believe that he could even begin to love a man like him. Still, she offered herself to him in the bowels of the night hoping that he could love her back, wanting something that he could not give her. In the light of the Sun, she passed for one of them – an entity. In the evening, she wept at his feet cursing at what she’d allowed herself to become – need and clingy, wanted something of this man he was not able to give.She would need to choose to become an entity or live her life feeling the aftermath of living without her love.

She had resolved to let it all go. She was sick of being a slave to a system that was stacked against humanity and so, she would do something inhumane. She needed to break free. The air was crisp and fresh up there where they stood. The moon loomed over them imposing on her last moments with him. The clouds were dark and gray watching her shame. Her wild curly hair flew in her face sticking to the tears that fell from her eyes. “This hurts,” she said as he looked at her motionless. “Bottling your emotions is a double-edged sword,” she said as she washed his blood from her hands. In that moment, it all made sense. She would get through the initial shock of having no emotions but she would get used to it. She would become what she hated the most: an entity. It was fitting, she thought, “Victimizer becoming victim. Besides, in the end, we all become what we hate the most.” She flung the hair from her face ready to walk into her new day strong.