The city moved along at a steady and controlled pace. Like water flowing from a faucet, it turned on at six o’clock every morning. Every alarm in every home went off, and every person in the city sat up and turned off the sound. Every person except a groggy Anna, who rolled over and wished for ten more minutes. But the loud ringing was incessant and she was awake.

This was the first sign of transformation, though it went unnoticed for a while. Then one day, after the city-wide routine of coffee, chia-seed oatmeal, and a banana, Anna reached the bus stop at two minutes to eight. Alone on the bench, the fear crept into her.

What had she done wrong? Had she missed a change in the schedule? There couldn’t have been. There were never changes.

It took only seconds for the sky to become dark. Street lights flickered out, one by one. The fear was coming for her. Then she remembered. She had forgotten to brush. Her mouth tasted of banana instead of mint and she could feel the tiniest remnants of slick chia.

Grabbing her bag, she sprinted down the street toward her apartment. She was in the door, up the stairs, and at the sink in only moments. Frantic, she gripped tight to the thin plastic handle and began a violent back and forth motion against her teeth. The bristles cut and her gums bled. Maybe if she brushed hard enough, the fear would go away.

Then it hit her.

Why am I afraid of being early to meet the bus? Why do I fear missing one brushing of my teeth?

She rinsed her mouth, then the toothbrush, placing it back in the holder. She stared blankly at herself in the mirror. It could have been for a few minutes, it could have been for hours. She didn’t know and didn’t care. It was as if she had no control over her mind or her body. Or perhaps, for the first time, she had complete control.

She stood and stared. She was aware she'd missed the morning bus, was missing work, and would eventually miss the bus home. She would miss, or had already missed, lunch with her co-workers. A smoked turkey and swiss sandwich, lettuce, dry, on whole wheat bread. An apple. A bottle of water.

How boring.

Her fingers dug into the bathroom counter, waiting for the fear to come. But she felt nothing.

She would feel it later and it would direct her back on the approved path. She would scream and sob. Her neighbors would mimic her, feeling her terror. But right now, in this moment, she was calm. Instead of fear, she felt something she could barely define. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Freedom.