Preparations to depart Bell House were underway after a quick stop by the cafeteria to grab sandwiches — always a solid choice for those who needed to eat while on the move about their business. The very concept of leaving the only place he really knew was utterly surreal to Nat — who had resided here for his entire adolescence — since his parents had abandoned him, giving him up to Bell House sometime in his mid-teens. He couldn't recall any details about them leaving, only that one day he'd woken up and been told they'd left and would not be returning.

  He hadn't had an episode in the months that immediately followed, but for some reason Nat couldn't recall any details of that time in his life.

  But this was certainly exciting — he'd get to travel, sure it was with his therapist, who he'd only just met, but maybe he'd get to meet Tanner's family? Did Tanner have a family? He couldn't recall.

  Regardless, while this all seemed a little strange, Nat didn't really have a strong basis for comparison. He'd heard the same potential problems his episodes, or was it his talent, might cause at the same time as the others, so it at least made sense. Sort of. Maybe? Whatever! It was exciting at least; it promised to be new, and novelty was a guaranteed way to fascinate Nat.

  Nat had certainly read a lot of books on travel, adventure, even history when he found something unique enough to snag his attention. His life up until now just didn't have that much variety — mostly he'd find somewhere comfortable and quiet to sit and read — his room, the conservatory, the gardens, or the library if a book he was interested in couldn't be taken out. He didn't enjoy reading in the library as much though because he felt as if the librarians were constantly watching their books, lurking silently nearby, just waiting to snatch them out of his hands. It ruined his immersion, even if the thought seemed irrational — he wasn't sure it was, though. Sometimes he would wake up and a book he had been reading was just missing from his room and he'd have to get up the nerve to ask the librarians for it back; he never did ask why they kept taking books out of his room overnight, he probably should have.

  Nat and Lyn had stopped by Nat's room, where he'd grabbed the lighter, more portable of his bed mats, as well as other kit and the contents of his writing drawer. These he brought out to the courtyard where they sat in a pile next to him on a stone bench. He did not have a travel pack and there weren't yet any to be found spare, so he stuffed the smaller items in the pillow case, and tied the bundle with some twine. It would have to do for now.

  Lyn was currently around the corner with the administrator in his office, the door closed, so Nat couldn't overhear the topics of discussion. There'd been a quick conversation about how far Nat could be from them, and a different orderly was assigned to stand awkwardly across the way and keep an eye out for Nat to suddenly keel over, at which point they were supposed to shout. At least that's what Nat supposed, he was only hearing about half of what was being said, but wasn't sure if that was intentional, since this was just how doctors, nurses, other adults, and even his parents had behaved pretty much his whole life.

  The coach master — apparently not simply a driver it had been clarified, since they owned the carriage — busied herself getting the horses back into harness and other tack, hours earlier than expected. The horses had not appreciated their grazing time being interrupted, apparently, and the coach master was in a mood after talking to first Tanner, then Lyn and the administrator.

  Nat felt that he should have more to show for his life than a small pile of bedding, notebooks, and writing instruments. He didn't even really own his own clothes, all he had was the loose fitting off-white cloth outfits that were the patient standard. For whatever reason, his clothes hadn't been touched by his episodes in years — early on they'd burn off of him, but it had been a long time since that happened, which was good — the embarrassment that caused had only gotten worse as he'd gotten older. He also didn't own any of his own books he could bring — everything he'd read belonged to Bell House or another patient who had kindly let him borrow one of theirs.

  After a few minutes of sitting still waiting for things to happen, Nat got bored, which would have been no surprise to anyone who'd ever met him. He decided to ask the coach master if he could help load the carriage. He'd have loved to ask to learn about tacking the horses, but they were huge, intimidating, and most importantly — he didn't think the coach master would say yes while in a rush. Maybe later — it seemed complex and complex meant interesting.

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  The coach master was amenable to the suggestion, and friendly enough. “Sure. Tanner's gear is already loaded, so go ahead and start filling the boot”, she used a thumb to indicate a heavy wooden chest strapped to the back of the carriage, “with whatever is sure to go. Don't worry about moving things about — we'll reorganize once we've dropped him off, assuming you haven't found other transport by then. There's more storage under the seats, lightly padded, so I'd suggest anything more fragile go inside with you. I'll give it a look-over once you're done to make sure everything's secured properly.”

  She returned to preparing the horses without a glance backwards. Nat was surprised, and pleased, at being trusted with a task so easily. For reasons he did not understand, it felt nice.

  Of the assorted items that had already been brought out were a few carrying baskets filled with dried goods, some fresh fruits he knew would be from the gardens, two small kegs of what he supposed was water, and a small variety of bottles. It looked like it was basically whatever would keep well and not be missed had been gathered; Nat didn't think there would be room for it all, but they'd pack what they could and leave the rest, or so he assumed.

  He peeked into the baskets to have a better idea of how things should be packed; bread, cheese, nuts, dried fruit, some dried meat which probably had a specific name based on its preparation, and oh — someone had packed some more fresh stuff wrapped in cloth — that was probably dinner for tonight, then. He'd put that in the carriage along with them. You know, just in case someone gets hungry early, went the accompanying thought. It was him. He was the one who'd get hungry early.

  While he was looking through the provisions, an older nurse, if her outfit was any indication, walked over with a small cloth bag. “Hello, Nat. I was told you'd be leaving us, duration unknown, and needed a few sets of clothes. There are two sets for mild weather or indoors — these are donated, so you won't look like an escaped patient,” she smirked slightly. “The light-colored loose fit set is best for heat — the desert will be hot during the day for a while yet — and a jacket for nights or colder weather. Underclothes and socks as well. I've only a single pair of boots extra that would fit, sorry about that.”

  He'd been greeted by name again. Did he know her? He hadn't seen her walk up so he couldn't reference her posture; he went for the safe approach. “Oh, thank you very much. I appreciate it.”

  She paused, and raised a lip in a slight smirk. “Nothing, eh? Even now? I'd hardly believed it when I first came to work here all those years ago, but I can't see even a flicker of recognition in your eyes. How you get through the day, I'll never understand.”

  Nat decided to answer honestly. After all, clearly she knew who he was, and they might never meet again. What harm could it do?

  “The trick is just being polite. People just don't use names all that commonly in the course of work — such as selling, cleaning, or similar — and it's not uncommon to use context to identify faces. The next time you're somewhere you frequent but aren't friends with anyone, see how many names and faces you know. My condition might be more severe than most, but more than a few people have confessed to me that they too suffer from a similar problem — either names or faces — to a lesser degree, and just pretend otherwise. Probably only after they see me struggle with it more than they do, I'd wager.”

  “Ah, but for me, I know the names and faces of everyone I interact with. I ask for names, and link them to the faces. It's important to my job, after all.”

  “That might be why, then. It's important to you, so you focus on it. I have… trouble, thinking of people as significant. It may sound strange, but think on it from my perspective. Nobody here is my friend. I'm everyone's job. We're friendly, but we can never be friends. I might recognize you elsewhere — a treatment room, or the cafeteria, perhaps. But here, in the courtyard, standing in front of a coach as I prepare to leave — I'm not in the proper mindset, and you're not in the usual setting, I presume. It shouldn't matter, I suppose, but it does. If we walked a few meters away I might recall you. If it means anything to you at all, I truly am sorry.”

  “I can't say it doesn't bother me at all, it's a strange thing, to be so casually dismissed. But I suppose I do it every day with day-patients who I'll never see again, so I can understand it. For what it's worth, my name is Anise. Be well, Nat.”

  And with that, she set the bag down near the baskets, turned, and walked away. Nat briefly had a moment of regret that he could not recall her. She seemed interesting.

  Well, there was a whole coach to get packed and an unspecified amount of time to do it in. Nat figured he'd best get started.