Oct. 21 YC 115
24IC Medical Facility
1400
Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas
"Ah, Mr. Krennel! Come in." Dr. Thomas greeted Ryven at the door to his office and beckoned for him to enter. "You are punctual as always."
Ryven just nodded and walked over to the couch and sat, the amazing comfort of the supple leather lost on him in his anxiety. "Alright, doc, what have you found out?" Ryven was referring to the results from a sleep study he had done over the weekend. Dr. Thomas had told him it could show what was happening to his brain.
Dr. Thomas closed the door behind Ryven and strode over to his chair, datapad in hand. He took a seat, his legs crossing comfortably. "Mr. Krennel, the results are about what I feared they would be."
He turned the datapad around, allowing Ryven to see, but it might as well have been a child's doodle for all Ryven understood of what he was looking at. There were bright moving colors and patterns that looked to Ryven like a small electrical storm. "You see, there are two of you in there."
Ryven scoffed. "What the fuck are you talking about, two of me?"
"I mean that these patterns are indicative of what we would expect of two brains laid over each simultaneously. It's like there are literally two of you in there."
Ryven rolled his eyes. "Fucking Silas Tobit."
Dr. Thomas's eyes narrowed at the mention of Dr. Tobit. "How do you know Silas Tobit?" Could this be Silas' handiwork? He was crazy, wasn't he? Surely he hadn't succeeded, well, partially.
"That's the part of this I was hoping we'd finally get to, doc. The part where I was kidnapped and fucking reprogrammed by one of your colleagues."
So it was true. Interesting. "I see. Well, then you know better than most just how crazy Dr. Tobit was. He was thoroughly disregarded by most of our community."
"Oh, there's no denying he was batshit. But he was batshit like a fox." Ryven's face was deadpan. "I'd say his theories were rather startlingly correct for the most part, wouldn't you, doc?"
Dr. Thomas had to grant that point. But, if Dr. Tobit had applied his behavioral modification theory to this poor patient, it was backfiring now. The host personality was fighting back. At best, this would be a painful process for Mr. Krennel. At worst, Ryven might have a full on psychotic break. In a capsuleer, that would be a terrifying turn of events to say the very least. With the pure destructive power available to someone like Mr. Krennel, an entire planet could be wiped out on a sheer act of whim, all because he simply felt like it that day.
"Mr. Krennel, I am beginning to have an understanding of what is happening here. I would like very much to have a session very soon with Ms. Tzestu present. Would that be alright for you? Have you talked to her about it yet?"
Ryven nodded. "Yeah. She seemed pretty interested. I'll get back to you on when we can pull this off."
Dr. Thomas smiled. "Excellent." Ms. Tzestu, whether she knows it or not, may very well be the key to saving him. Dr. Thomas felt a chill, then, as the corollary became clear. Or dooming him. He pulled himself together, cataloging the previous thoughts in the recesses of his brain. When he finally spoke, he spoke calmly. "So, last time we left off with the death of Titus and your decision to become a capsuleer...."
Monday, October 21, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Patient: Krennel, Ryven, Session 1
Oct. 11, YC 115
24th Imperial Crusade medical facility
11 am
Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas
Dr. Thomas sat, datapad in hand, his posture one of a professional with years of experience, emanating comfort. He was an older man, Ryven guessed roughly mid-sixties, with the usual gray streaks in his hair and spectacles that Ryven assumed were merely for show. Dr. Thomas was well-dressed, but in a comfortable rather than stuffy sort of way. He seemed to be perpetually stuck somewhere between smirking and frowning, as if he couldn't make up his mind and became frozen that way. His face was etched with deep wrinkles that followed the lines of this bizarre expression. His eyes were a deep brown matched only by the gray speckled bushy eyebrows perched over his eyes. He wore a light blue shirt and yellow tie, which Ryven suspected was meant to be calming, to lower the threat that a psychologist presented, the threat of an invasion of the mind, the thoughts, the inner sanctum of one's most private of private feelings. Ryven felt it really wasn't working.
Dr. Thomas invited Ryven to sit on his dark leather sofa, and then directed him to lay down and relax.
Ryven lay down and willed himself to relax, his eyes tracing the features of the relatively nondescript ceiling. Abandoning that, he closed his eyes and focused on breathing. In..1...2...3....out..1..2...3.
Dr. Thomas spoke first. "So, in setting up this appointment, you mentioned some basic concerns you were having. While they certainly are important in and of themselves, your current issues do not exist sui generis. They are intimately entwined with the fabric of the totality of your life experience up to this point. While I could probably make some recommendations without delving into your history, to do so would be irresponsible and destined to failure. With that in mind, I believe we should begin with your childhood. How would you characterize that experience?"
Ryven nearly choked. "Um, well, if I had to choose one word, I would go with: unpleasant." He rolled his eyes mentally.
Dr. Thomas's expression seemed to tilt closer to a frown. "Now, now, Mr. Krennel, I think you can tell me more than that. How about you just describe it to me?"
So, Ryven told him about the orphanage, about the fights, the arrival of Baillieu and his subsequent death, and his finally meeting his uncle/father Titus. Dr. Thomas would occasionally prod him with questions, trying to pin down a particular detail, but Ryven pretty much talked for forty five minutes straight, sharing his pains, his few tender memories, and the hope he had finally experienced. When Dr. Thomas finally stopped him, Ryven was surprised to find his cheeks burning, his tears streaking fire down his face, salty trails remaining as legacy.
"I think that will be enough for today, Mr. Krennel." Dr. Thomas was typing on his datapad. "When can you come back in? I'd prefer sooner rather than later. We have a lot of ground to cover."
Ryven sat up, cradling his head in his hands. He wasn't ready for the session to be over. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him. For God's sake, he had murdered a man in a rage only a week or so ago. He was maddeningly in love with Kat. He had to fix this. Finally, he answered. "You free tomorrow?"
Dr. Thomas's expression drifted closer to a smirk. "I'm never free. However, I can squeeze you in in the afternoon."
"Thanks, Doc." Ryven stood and walked out of the office, feeling somehow lighter than when he entered.
Dr. Thomas began dictating the long list of notes, thinking to himself that he could spend the next twenty years trying to parse all of this man's issues.
24th Imperial Crusade medical facility
11 am
Offices of Dr. Ezra Thomas
Dr. Thomas sat, datapad in hand, his posture one of a professional with years of experience, emanating comfort. He was an older man, Ryven guessed roughly mid-sixties, with the usual gray streaks in his hair and spectacles that Ryven assumed were merely for show. Dr. Thomas was well-dressed, but in a comfortable rather than stuffy sort of way. He seemed to be perpetually stuck somewhere between smirking and frowning, as if he couldn't make up his mind and became frozen that way. His face was etched with deep wrinkles that followed the lines of this bizarre expression. His eyes were a deep brown matched only by the gray speckled bushy eyebrows perched over his eyes. He wore a light blue shirt and yellow tie, which Ryven suspected was meant to be calming, to lower the threat that a psychologist presented, the threat of an invasion of the mind, the thoughts, the inner sanctum of one's most private of private feelings. Ryven felt it really wasn't working.
Dr. Thomas invited Ryven to sit on his dark leather sofa, and then directed him to lay down and relax.
Ryven lay down and willed himself to relax, his eyes tracing the features of the relatively nondescript ceiling. Abandoning that, he closed his eyes and focused on breathing. In..1...2...3....out..1..2...3.
Dr. Thomas spoke first. "So, in setting up this appointment, you mentioned some basic concerns you were having. While they certainly are important in and of themselves, your current issues do not exist sui generis. They are intimately entwined with the fabric of the totality of your life experience up to this point. While I could probably make some recommendations without delving into your history, to do so would be irresponsible and destined to failure. With that in mind, I believe we should begin with your childhood. How would you characterize that experience?"
Ryven nearly choked. "Um, well, if I had to choose one word, I would go with: unpleasant." He rolled his eyes mentally.
Dr. Thomas's expression seemed to tilt closer to a frown. "Now, now, Mr. Krennel, I think you can tell me more than that. How about you just describe it to me?"
So, Ryven told him about the orphanage, about the fights, the arrival of Baillieu and his subsequent death, and his finally meeting his uncle/father Titus. Dr. Thomas would occasionally prod him with questions, trying to pin down a particular detail, but Ryven pretty much talked for forty five minutes straight, sharing his pains, his few tender memories, and the hope he had finally experienced. When Dr. Thomas finally stopped him, Ryven was surprised to find his cheeks burning, his tears streaking fire down his face, salty trails remaining as legacy.
"I think that will be enough for today, Mr. Krennel." Dr. Thomas was typing on his datapad. "When can you come back in? I'd prefer sooner rather than later. We have a lot of ground to cover."
Ryven sat up, cradling his head in his hands. He wasn't ready for the session to be over. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him. For God's sake, he had murdered a man in a rage only a week or so ago. He was maddeningly in love with Kat. He had to fix this. Finally, he answered. "You free tomorrow?"
Dr. Thomas's expression drifted closer to a smirk. "I'm never free. However, I can squeeze you in in the afternoon."
"Thanks, Doc." Ryven stood and walked out of the office, feeling somehow lighter than when he entered.
Dr. Thomas began dictating the long list of notes, thinking to himself that he could spend the next twenty years trying to parse all of this man's issues.
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