Chapter One - DnuorG

  “And like, if the Hindus have it right, then it’s all…” She gestures at everything around her, “What did you call it again?” Suuz taps her fingers against her bottom lip while scrunching her eyes, humming a little tune that lets me know she is deep in concentration. Suddenly her face lights up and she snaps her fingers in Fonz-esque-eureka, “Moralistical relativatude!”

  She raises a teasing eyebrow at me, “Right?”

  I have to suppress a grin so as not to show how much I enjoy Suuz’s ability to purposefully dumb down difficult concepts that I know she fully understands. She does it both to trigger the correctionist in others, and because she loves using complex philosophies and theologies to justify her behavior.

  I set my notebook down on the table between us, letting her see the half finished cyborg octopus I have been doodling during our sessions.

  Because it always gets a reaction from her, I push my glasses up on my face anime style before responding, “So… You are saying that since “Thou Art That,” implies a panpsychic interconnected nature of all things, that everything in the universe is actually just... What? Light shining on finger puppets it wears while clapping at the shadows they cast?”

  Suuz looks at her fingers, seeming to imagine little puppets on each one, so I add the final piece to the puzzle she offered me, “And so... stealing is ok because you are the thief, the owner, the object, and the universe in which everything takes place?”

  At that she looks up from her fingers and nods enthusiastically, “Exactly!”

  I spin a mechanical pencil through my fingers while I think, stopping when its point faces Suuz, “So why didn’t you let yourself get away with it?”

  She shrinks back as if from a thorn, instantly guarded now that real answers are on the table.

  Noting her hesitance, I push a little more, “Seems to me, if you are the universe and all the things in it at the same time, then you are the security guard that caught you, you are the judge that sentenced you, and,” I point a thumb at myself, “You are also the court mandated therapist they force you to talk to.” I stick my tongue out at that last part, getting a surprised chuckle from Suuz.

  My willingness to engage with her worldview helps as I watch Suuz’s expression slip from defensive to a very self-knowing and mischievous one. Suuz nods a little, narrows her eyes, and adds some challenge to her voice when asking, “And why would I do that?”

  I lean back in the lazy-boy (a primo therapist must have if I do say so) I installed behind my desk, wondering how best to answer that… Then it strikes me that extreme drama might work.

  I stand, grabbing the crystalline orange geode my brother gifted me from my desk as I go, and hold it in the air like a shakespearean skull while dramatically proclaiming, “What is life if not a play in which we write, act, and ever wish for a worthy ending?”

  Suuz rolls her eyes at me and hugs her knees against her chest in her own lazy-boy (only fair), “You’re saying that being a thief, dropping out of school, and ODing before eighteen doesn’t make for a good story?”

  I look at her with an empathetic grin, sit back down and then try to do my best wise-wizard nod while stroking my goatee-beard-thing, “I mean, there's some artistic merit there…” I raise my eyebrows, “But cliché much?”

  Despite her efforts to be a glum teenager I actually get a real laugh out of her for that one. So I push a little here too, “Plus, I’d bet you have a much stranger, more interesting story you could write, if you tried.”

  Suuz hugs the stuffed therapy animal tight, her voice comes out small, “If I write the story… Why does it hurt so much?”

  I let out a deeply held sigh, “That is a good question.”

  I take a moment to glare up at the ceiling fan, the one whose constant rhythmic squeaking is just this side of quiet enough to keep me from replacing or repairing it… I very neatly pack up and lay all the blame for universal suffering upon the damnable thing before responding to Suuz, “Best guess? Because a story with no drama is no fun.”

  Suuz and I spend the remaining ten minutes of our session chipping away at our legendary Halo One campaign save. Honestly I wasn't sure if she would bother to show, court orders or not, if I didn’t have the old xbox set up for us to play at the end…

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  We manage to make it about half way through the flood level when our time runs out and after gathering her things, Suuz gives me her standard goodbye gesture in the form of a dual-wielded middle finger salute which she maintains until the door closes behind her.

  Now, it's just me, the fan, and my old Husky-floof Keats, who having long since learned that clients leaving means that he gets to go on adventures, wanders over from his comfy cushion palace in the corner teeth clacking and tail wagging.

  Keats’ bright, almost white-blue eyes shine up at me with pure expectant joy, forcing any remaining weight from my conversation with Suuz to evaporate off my shoulders.

  Grinning I snark, “Oh really? Is that so?” I reach out to my suddenly demanding companion and scritch little circles into his forehead, eliciting a floppy tongue. As my other hand plays with his ears, I let out a small sigh, just really letting the bliss of having a tame monster (what are dogs really?) who hangs out with me in exchange for pets and treats.

  My own grumbling stomach reminds me what our mission is, so I stand up from my desk, grab my favorite patchwork jacket, and for some reason (intrusive thoughts for the win) I plop the orange geode in one of the larger of the hidden pockets I had sewn into the inner lining before heading for the door.

  I hold open and watch Keats waggle happily through my office door while saying, “Alright, alright, let’s go see what the esteemed Dr. Bradshaw wants to do for lunch."

  After locking my office with the stupid-cool, ancient, and unnecessarily heavy iron key that came with the building I turn around, take three steps, and find myself standing in front of the only other office door in our building.

  I raise my hands like a conductor about to begin a concerto and start drumming a pattern into Alex’s office door with frantic abandon.

  My behavior elicits an immediate and personally reinforcing response in the form of a muffled and slightly exasperated voice calling from within, “Come in!”

  I let Keats take up the forward charge as we enter, smiling as the great floof-beast pads over to my bedraggled looking best friend all while letting out a low and rumbly howl of greeting.

  Leaning against his doorframe I watch as Alex reaches down to pay Keats his daily neck stritch tax and it strikes me suddenly that something is different in here… In fact… It appears that some kind of paperwork tornado has hit my friend's usually pristine office.

  I gesture to the wasteland of paper, “What’s all this?”

  Alex sighs and continues to pet Keats for a moment before answering, “I know you don’t watch the news Ero, but surely you’ve noticed that the world is kinda falling apart out there?”

  I waggle my head back and forth, “Right… and?”

  Alex pats Keats on the back before throwing him the remains of his morning bagel and turning to look at me, “And so, “ he gestures at the mess of what I now recognize as boilerplate legal documents with clear irritation, “This is what it looks like when the feds pressure state governments to reallocate nearly all of their mental health budget, which had already been fucking voted for and approved by the public, and bypass all the systems and protections in place by calling it an emergency spending bill.”

  My poor friend actually grits his teeth as he speaks, “Leaving poor schmucks like you, me, and our clients to suddenly, and very desperately need a new and permanent way to keep the lights on.”

  Sensing a rant about political campaign reform coming on I decide to go with the simple, “Ah…”

  Alex nods, “Yes, exactly. Ah. Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  I tap the office door with my knuckles in a rhythmic pattern for a moment, then turn back to Alex, “You know what you need?”

  Alex deadpans, “A stable world ruled by people who give a shit about humans and their wellbeing?”

  I nod, “Yes, but since I was speaking of the real world where real things happen, I was actually going to say you need some curry puffs, a spicy order of chicken pad thai, and refreshing Thai iced tea to wash it all down.”

  Dr. Bradshaw laughs, “Isn’t that your favorite order at Run’s?”

  I look down at the paperwork nodding sagely, “Yes, and it just so happens to be the cure for ills both physical and metaphysical.” I pick up one of the papers from the ground and balance it on top of my head while adding, “Especially true concerning uncertain futures.”

  —Subject EJE-042414 Notes—

  Ground State?

  Optimal.

  Ludic Signature Detected?

  Affirmative.

  Warning! Subject rates poor in sociability!

  Override.

  Warning! Subject rates high in resistance to authority!

  Override.

  Warning! Subject rates high in abnormal and comorbid mental conditions!

  Override.

  Override Justification? - Expedite due to project time constraints.

  Judgement. . .

  With overrides Subject meets all requirements.

  Initiate Stage Two.