I will not subject my intellect to the rudimentary psychoanalysis of a demonstrably inferior mind, Arthur seethed as he walked.
He had learned everything about psychology and the workings of the instinctual mind from the book. Attending sessions would only hemorrhage time from his research. He hadn't found any clues yet, but with the extra five months provided by the Board, surely he would make a breakthrough.
Failure is not an acceptable outcome.
As a group of students approached him in the hall, Arthur applied a gentle smile and executed an immaculate wave of his hand.
Observe their vapid expressions. This deference is entirely novel. My reclassification into the Honor Class has abruptly rewritten their perception of my humanity, he thought, observing them.
Several contradictory memories appeared to correct him, but he disregarded them.
A predictable farce. Nevertheless, the maintenance of the 'Cedric' persona is paramount to evading detection.
Several others passed. He deceptively offered the exact same greeting, down to the degree of the wave, every single time.
Eventually, for the first time in these false interactions, he felt the slightest release of dopamine and oxytocin. It was a microscopic amount, but for a self-inflicting boy with such limited exposure to happiness, it was enough to stretch his lips into a genuine smile.
Sure enough, it was identical to the fake one he had been using.
But the smile was ineffective against the figure standing ahead. What he received in response was a deadly glare.
It was the glare of an owl staring down the enemy circling it. The glare of a wolf—gone blind—yet still detecting the bear. A glare of disgust and hate that had no regard for manners or civility.
The glare of a man on the brink of insanity.
What is the source of this hostility? Has his perception also been overridden by the Cedric facade? Arthur wondered.
He had seen Derrick give dirty looks to Honor Class students before, but being on the receiving end was a different data point entirely. It was intense. He was surprised no one had picked a fight with the boy yet.
Hypothesis: His aggression stems from the grief of believing his primary ally—myself—is deceased.
Maybe he should reveal his identity. He had taught Derrick all the ways of William Sinclair. Derrick was the only person his age Arthur considered an equal.
The probability of betrayal is low. He is a secure asset, Arthur reasoned.
However, the variable exists. What if he deviates?
He tightened his grip on his strap. I will withhold the data for now. But I swear, Derrick, you will be the first variable updated once Cedric's retrieval is complete.