Psi Tales: Wizard Battle

Deshawn vs the Harlem Sorcerer

Previously: We meet the Mapmaker (aka Deshawn), a 15-year-old who obsessively makes maps of psychogeography. He covers the walls of his room in tin foil to avoid the brainwaves and mental noise of people on the street.

○ Months after the Great Opening, Manhattan

Deshawn stood at the intersection of Frederick Douglas Blvd and 124^th St with his cheeks twitching like crazy. 

“Let’s go back,” he said.

His mom looked down at him. She was the one person whose face he couldn’t ignore, like one of those cuddlefish that mesmerizes prey. He squinted through the glare of the sun over her shoulders. Her nostrils flared between commanding cheekbones. “You said you wanted McDonald’s for dinner. You said you were tired of ‘all that organic stuff’ from the farmers market. Didn’t you say that?”

“Yeah…”

“Well you want to eat, you go get it. Here’s some money.” She pushed a 20 into Deshawn’s hand. “I won’t subtract it from your allowance.”

He began to breath very quickly. There were too many people around them. He tried his best to curl his mind up like a pillbug so that nothing could get in.

“Mickey D’s is just a couple blocks away. You’ll be OK. Look at me.” She stared at him fiercely. “I don’t need you to be normal. I know you’re different and I celebrate that. Hell, I was a freak-and-a-half at your age. But you need to learn how to be an independent adult soon, baby. You can’t just lock yourself in a tin foil prison all day. OK?” 

He began to breath even faster.

“Hey.” She cupped his twitching cheek. “You don’t even have to sit down. Just get take-out. In and out, all right? I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

Deshawn nodded quickly and crossed the street alone, treading deeper into hell.