Price, Paige's Questionnaire

Scottsdale Arizona, a rather well-to-do place. To give a brief overview of the city it's spread out across forty miles, south to north. There's Old Town or South Scottsdale, which is like a 1950s rendition of a western; the Central Corridor, picture private communities and even some lakefront property; North Scottsdale, characterized by multi-million dollar homes and unending golf courses. Where people are more preoccupied maintaining a facade of perfection than straining a drought racked water supply or acknowledging the world collapsing around them.

It's the kind of place where people with more money than sense congregate, which is partially why I'm still live here. No shortage of clients looking to fill their vast empty homes with whatever expensive bobbles suits their fancy and needing them to be appraised for insurance purposes of course.

I live in a modern three floor townhouse. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage, and open concept kitchen, dining room, and living room. Almost every piece of furniture is second hand. An intentional choice on my part, makes the space feel like a home.

As noted previously, I live in Scottsdale partially because of a plethora of well-off clients. I work with art and antiques. Most of my day job entails examining a client's collection, researching market and sales prices for similar items, and producing legal paperwork for insurance purposes or giving an estimation of the value of an object as an independent appraiser. My father, while not in the business ran in much the same circles as my clientele which helped get my foot in the door.

There are two things I spend my money on, my image and my personal life. My image as a professional requires a not insignificant amount of what I make, especially when I was starting out, tailored clothes and respectable watches don't simply grow on trees. Undertaking contracts has only opened a new venue of quality items I simply can't do my job without. Regarding my personal life, I'm the reason almost everything in my home is second hand, I love feeling the history of something even if I don't personally know it. For instance, while I am a practical woman and appreciate the efficacy of modern devices, I do enjoy the more tactile touch of my electric typewriter.

Things have changed, as you no doubt seen all over the news. People are wielding dangerous powers beyond our understanding. Supernatural predators are stalking the night, terrorizing any who cross their path.

Simply put, the world is in chaos.

While the government and various corporations look to perpetuate their own interests, those who are more forward thinking are left to wonder how precisely does humanity adapt? Do they turn away from modern science in a misguided attempt to shun the profit incentivized road to all encompassing servitude. Do they instead put their trust in an amorphous and ever opaque government whose only real goal is to rapidly recover and establish control over a situation of pure unadulterated chaos? Maybe they seek a third option, putting their blind faith into the unexplained in the hopes that may save them from hellfire and damnation.

No, instead I propose that humanity will take a different course. We will do as we have since the sun first dawned on our ancestors: learn, understand, and adapt. As a civilization knowledge will be our shield, because while not everyone can gain paranormal abilities it is possible to understand them. By discovery of the principles they operate under we can hopefully find a way to nullify or harness their effects for the benefit of civilization as a whole, rather than just for us privileged few.

Of course, this is a work that is larger than I. It may take centuries for the path forward to crystallize in less abstract notions. But I will dedicate my life for that work, in anyway a girl from Arizona can.

(TW: Suicide, heavily implied)

June eleventh, ten years ago.

It was the day my illusions about the world were shattered.

I, like most people when they were fifteen, was a different person back then. Perfection wasn't a shield to wield against the chaos of an uncertain world, it was an albatross across my neck. Something done for the sake of others rather than for myself.

Out in the yard on the grassy knoll, beneath a palo verde sat my sister. I remember being miffed that I had to retrieve her for dinner after I'd just put on my new white summer dress and was fastidiously avoiding the fallen yellow leaves which blanketed the scene. When I reached close enough to hold a conversation at a respectable volume I took in her visage.

She was crumpled lifelessly, like a puppet with her strings snapped, wearing that ridiculous powder blue and white polka dot affair she was so fond of.

"Miriam." I had called out in my typical prim fashion, wanting nothing but to be finished with her usual nonsense as early as possible.

It would take a few tries before I got ticked off enough to approach her. Crouching down I lifted her downcast face, her eyes doing their best to hide behind her dark bangs. Her expression burned into my mind, it didn't make sense that anyone should look so calm and at peace at that moment. No matter how pretty a view. She'd even left some repulsive refuse on her lips, which I had thought was typical of her bumbling behavior.

"Miriam, I don't have time to play your games."

Still, without response, I noted her arms lay limp on either side of her and followed her right arm down to the little white bottle. I'm unsure how long I stared uncomprehendingly at it, the discarded cap and the few remaining loose pills beside it. Wordlessly, for the first time in years, I sat down without a care in the world and just watched the setting sun.

Her hand was cold, I held it anyway.

In order of importance: Edalyn Claus, Selena Perez, and Tom.

Tom, whose last name I never bothered to find out, is a man most would describe as mousy and shy. I'd call him a rat who can never tell when he isn't welcome but more accurately he's a parasite who feeds off of his betters to his own detriment. He can't hold down a job, has a list of debts a mile long, can't carry a tune but tries anyways, and is also somehow Lyn's boyfriend.

Selena is an old friend of the family, we met when we were twelve and have been on good terms since. She helped keep me together in the days after Miriam's death. We haven't met up in a while, I should probably invite her to lunch at some point, but life has been rather busy as of late.

Edalyn Claus, or as she insists I call her, Lyn. If I had to name the person I am closest to today it would have to be her. We've been living together for nearly a decade at this point after first meeting in college. She has to be one of the greatest individuals that has ever lived, besides myself of course. She's smart, obviously, and respects my privacy, and my need for a rather stark work-life divide. Essentially she's the best friend I could ask for.

As alluded to previously, I found my childhood straining at times. My parents expected the best when it came to life, including their daughters. Be the perfect host, be valedictorian, and be exceptional in all that you do. Unfortunately, reality didn't always match their expectations, which resulted in one of two scenarios. One they ignore it entirely treating the issue as if it didn't exist in the first place for the crime of failure, or they fixed the problem by any means necessary.

I went to the Asheford Institute of Antiques, it's where I got my credentials as an appraiser. It was around that time I met Lyn and while I'm glad I did will say I wasn't particularly fond of Florida.

Honestly, I don't concern myself much with what others truly think of me and haven't for a very long time. As long as I am treated with an appropriate level of respect it doesn't particularly matter if they like me or not.

No. Maybe once when I was younger, if you can call pining 'love', but to be frank it was a fleeting ordeal.

Why? I could write about circumstance, or how I always close myself off to others, maybe I could go on about being a lone flower in a field or some other suitably melodramatic nonsense.

But really, I was simply never interested. People can be interesting, in their often flawed and idiosyncratic ways, but romance was and will be an experience I will leave untouched. Bearing one's soul to another is a terrifying thing, and I prefer my relationships in general to be simple and with little room for ambiguity.