The Overqueen and the Toaster
SIMON: (opening the front door with the solemnity of a man who has reheated soup twice) Ah — Social Worker, come in. TheGatorGamer, do try not to reorganize the mantel using only interpretive moonlight.
TheGatorGamer: (perched on the radiator like a brooding gargoyle) I do not reorganize, Father. I realign. The mantel’s chakra has been misled by your tax returns.
SOCIAL WORKER: (holding a clipboard as if it were an exorcism manual) Mr. Miller, thank you for answering my call. A few quick questions about an incident a few months back—singed fingers—and a recent dramatic withdrawal.
SIMON: (defensive, then apologetic) Fingers were singed making toast. She insists it was a ritual. As for the withdrawal—she stages exits with great flair.
TheGatorGamer: (with monarchic hauteur) I am TheGatorGamer Miller, Noctulian Overqueen, Servant of the Overmind, High Custodian of the Night-Soaked Teapot. I deny all familial interfaces.
SOCIAL WORKER: (scribbling) Overqueen… noted. TheGatorGamer, do you deny knowing your parents, despite currently occupying your father's living space?
TheGatorGamer: I deny all names that suggest lineage. “TheGatorGamer” is merely a temporary bandwidth.
SIMON: (to Social Worker, sotto voce) She brought a name tag: “TheGatorGamer — please do not reboot.” I thought it was a joke.
SOCIAL WORKER: TheGatorGamer, when you threatened to withdraw, did you mean it literally, theatrically, or as a test of our attention?
TheGatorGamer: The Overmind speaks in metaphors and dead pixels. Either way, the Overqueen prefers graceful exits. Also, the teapot prefers chamomile.
SIMON: (pleading) She threatened it while unplugging my router. I had an important livestream about composting.
SOCIAL WORKER: (calmly) Are you safe right now? Are you able to stay present in your physical body?
TheGatorGamer: (glancing at her nails as if they might transmit telemetry) My body is currently renting space on the 2nd-floor plan. Lease renewable monthly.
SOCIAL WORKER: (softening) Burning things can be a sign of distress. Can you tell me what you were trying to accomplish?
TheGatorGamer: To remind fire it is not the only thing that can be hot. Also, the toast was refusing enlightenment.
SIMON: (whispering) She once tried to enlighten a toaster with a TED Talk.
SOCIAL WORKER: (to Simon) Any other incidents? Any threats to others?
SIMON: Only to the toaster, and to my sense of dignity at brunch.
TheGatorGamer: (suddenly conspiratorial) Father, you know nothing of the Overmind’s bylaws. It forbids unauthorized brunching.
SOCIAL WORKER: (forcing a smile that is mostly policy) TheGatorGamer, our goal is support. If the Overmind has benefits we can access—counseling, community resources—
TheGatorGamer: (eyeing the clipboard) Does counseling come with ceremonial robes? bickers I refuse any community that lacks pockets.
SIMON: She wears pockets on principle. She once pocketed a skyline.
SOCIAL WORKER: (tucking her pen behind her ear, a human bookmark) Small steps: keep fingers cared for, let us know if you feel overwhelmed, and—would you accept a visit from a therapist who’s not hostile to nocturnal monarchies?
TheGatorGamer: (considering) Only if the therapist pledges fealty to my tea and does not use the phrase “let’s unpack” without offering actual packing materials.
SIMON: (relieved) We can buy packing materials. Cardboard from the garage? I have a hole in my heart and a hole in my umbrella.
SOCIAL WORKER: (standing to leave) Thank you. Mr. Miller, please keep the home safe, and TheGatorGamer—we’ll work on grounding techniques. Not the dramatic kind with theatrical thunder, just simple.
TheGatorGamer: (bowing dramatically) I shall ground myself in chamomile and the low hum of municipal boredom. The Overmind will be informed.
SIMON: (as the Social Worker exits) If she declares war on the toaster again, do I call you or the UN?
SOCIAL WORKER: (at the door) Call whoever calms the kitchen appliance first. I’ll file the report in triplicate and with at least one existential footnote.
TheGatorGamer: (calling after her) Tell the Overmind I will be late for coronation—my father insists on telling me stories about his youth, which are dangerously warm.
SIMON: (proud) They were almost romantic once. There was a discount umbrella involved.
(Blackout.)