Inktober 2026 - 7 - Panic

A few people are sitting around a table in a meeting room. A man is standing near a screen mounted to the wall, providing a commentary on various charts, with the help of a laser pointer. Without the subject matter of his presentation seeming particularly riveting, all members of the audience appear attentive, with some even taking notes.

At some point, one of the women in attendance starts fanning herself with her notepad. Only the intern, the youngest person in presence, takes notice, until she says something:

“Is anybody else hot, right now? Or is it just me?” she gasps, evidently feeling very warm.

“You, intern. Crack open a window, will you?” the presenter asks immediately.

The young man jumps from his seat to obey. Fresh air gushes through the room once he has succeeded in his task, but unfortunately, the woman’s discomfort only appears to grow. She is now breathing very heavily, and grabbing at her chest.

“Should we call for help?” the intern asks, worried.

“No… Thanks… I’ll be… fine,” she manages to answer between heavy pants.

“She’s having a panic attack. Seers get them, sometimes, and there is nothing anyone can do about it,” explains a senior invitee.

The woman still has the energy to quickly glare at him for the unnecessary level of details he just provided about her. Not everybody needs to know about this! It’s embarrassing!

“Is there really nothing we can try?”

“Oh, we’ve tried in the past, believe me. We tried the paper bag trick, we tried quizzing her on arithmetics, we even tried that shtick with the things you can see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Nothing has ever worked.”

While he recounts their previous failed attempts at helping her in her predicament, the woman gets up from her chair, wobbly on her legs, and goes to slump down against the wall closest to her. She still has her hand on her chest, her breathing is still very loud and laborious, and her face has turned quite red. Her situation is made even more worrisome by own unfazed everyone looks around her.

“Isn’t she at risk, being short of breath like this?”

“She’s only ever fainted one time, and it was probably because someone slapped her.”

The presenter gives a side glance to another woman in attendance, who happened to be sitting right next to the Seer in their midst.

“I genuinely thought it would help! Otis once threw his glass of water in her face and nobody ever brings that up.”

“Flames. Fire. Blood. Death,” the Seer starts stammering, her eyes suddenly vacant.

“Here we go…”

“Does that happen every time?!” the intern asks.

Oddly enough, everyone keeping their cool is not helping him stay calm.

“Well, she sees catastrophes past, present, and future, so… pretty much, yeah.”

“How do we know which one?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do we know she’s not seeing a future catastrophe? When do we start to worry about her visions?”

“When she snaps out of it and tells us we’re all going to die in three days.”