Free We Are Monsters by Brian Kirk

the end of the world,” Crosby said. Cool air rushed through the large vent overhead. He placed his hands under his legs to warm them. “There’s a war going on behind the scenes. I’m a soldier of God.”
    Alex nodded his head as if Crosby had just told him that he enjoyed playing racquetball. “What forces?” he asked.
    â€œDemonic,” Crosby said, chewing his lower lip. “The legions of hell led by Satan himself. It’s an ancient battle that’s nearing its end.”
    â€œAnd…” Alex held a fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat, “…you’ve seen these demons?”
    â€œI’ve seen their shadows.”
    â€œPlease explain.”
    The therapy rooms had all been given names. It was one of Eli’s initiatives to create a more calming hospital environment. This one was called Tranquility, which, in Alex’s experience, was a misnomer. Nowhere else had Alex heard more irrational ideas or observed more erratic behavior. It did have a tabletop rock garden, though, to reinforce its theme.
    â€œThe demons take human form. They look just like you and me.”
    You and I look nothing alike, Alex thought, staring at the scrabbly man before him.
    Crosby continued, “But their shadows show their demonic form.”
    â€œYou’d think they’d only come out at night, then.”
    Crosby furrowed his brow; his chin dimpled. “Well,” he said, thinking, “that’s true. I guess it’s ’cause most people can’t see them, so they feel safe.”
    â€œAh.” Alex grabbed the tiny rock-garden rake and began combing the sand. “And why do you think that is?”
    â€œWhy what is?”
    â€œWhy is it that so few people can see them? Why hasn’t God called upon more people to join the war?”
    â€œIt’s not that simple. It goes deep, deep, deep. Society has been blinded through cultural engineering. God has been removed from our everyday lives and replaced with false idols. People worship money, material things, movie stars. It’s all part of a plan to distance us from our true nature. From our divine past.”
    Crosby’s past was far from divine. According to his patient file, he had been raised by a single mother who, by all accounts, was mentally ill herself; a condition she treated with a mixture of meth, men and gallons of cheap vodka. He had been sexually assaulted by more than one of her transient boyfriends and moved to a foster home after he found his mother murdered at the age of fourteen. Strangled, presumably, by a boyfriend, a pimp or a drug pusher. The case had never been solved. The fact that Crosby had been able to eventually secure a job and stay off the streets was indeed a miracle, but Alex doubted that it had anything to do with God.
    â€œAnd, so, God’s soldiers. How do they avoid being blinded by these cultural distractions?”
    â€œUm, well, I know from my standpoint, first of all, I don’t own a TV. Well, I do, but I don’t have all the channels. Only a few. Just the basic ones.”
    â€œSo, cable is Satan’s most effective weapon?”
    Crosby puffed his cheeks and blew out a gust of air. “It’s complicated,” he said.
    â€œI imagine so.” The miniature rock garden was becoming a series of rigid lines pockmarked with pebbles. “Have you seen any demon shadows here?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œAnd why do you think that is?”
    â€œThe pills, most likely. They put your head in a fog so that you can’t see clearly. But I don’t mind. I’m not sure I want to see the demons no more. I’d rather just live my life. You know what they say, ignorance is bliss.”
    Sounds like something social engineers would say.
    Alex had been a staff psychiatrist at Sugar Hill for over eight years. During that time, he had learned that there was no way to reason with schizophrenics during one of their