by M&CNICFYYY2K
"We almost done here?"
"Uh, we actually haven't started yet, Mr. Du." I hate it when they call me Mr. Du. And I hate shrinks, especially ones who dress like it's 1889. "Now, why don't you lay down on the couch so we can begin our psychological evaluation? My name is Dr. Thomas Rice, by the way."
I reluctantly obey, trying to look as displeased as I can. The comfortable pillows make that a hard task. Damn, I could marry this couch. Seriously, I gotta get me one of these.
But, anyway, back to being pissy. "I thought you'd know all you need to know about me by now."
"Oh? What makes you say that?" he asks, looking genuinely surprised. "Why, you walked into this room barely ten seconds ago! Or does it seem like ten minutes, because of your special abilities?"
"Nah, time doesn't slow down for me -- unless I want it to, I mean. I was sayin' that 'cause you got that mind-reading gizmo there." I point at his ear, and he immediately checks the piece of alien technology inside it with his hand, probably making sure it isn't sticking out.
"Very observant, Will!" he says with a smile, his pale face turning pink. "How did you know what the mind-lobe does?"
"My dad had one of those, a gift from one of his 'buddies.' But, uh, shouldn't you know that already?"
"No, Will, I'm not reading your mind. This mind-lobe has very limited capability. It only gives me general mood impressions. For example, it told me you were uncomfortable when I called you 'Mr. Du.' Anything more than that would be illegal without a warrant, I'm afraid."
"Yeeaahh, tell that to my dad..."
"Your father... the Swift, correct? Impressive career."
Oh, great. He's a fan. "Depends on who you ask."
"Did he use the mind-lobe on you when you were a boy, Will?"
Crap. I walked right into that one. Or ran into it, if you wanna be cute. "Eh, sometimes. Like, if someone had peed on the kitchen sink... or, or something... he'd use it to find out which one of us did it."
"How do you get along with your father?"
"Dude, he used an alien earplug to read my mind. How do you think we got along? The man is a fascist and a manipulative control freak."
"And yet, you've decided to follow his footsteps. Or was that not your own decision?"
I laugh at the question to let him know how ridiculous it is, and hopefully make him feel stupid. "You mean like, he forced me to get into this business? Ha, no, he's completely the opposite. Ever since th-- Ever since he retired, he's been telling me I need to get a 'real career.' He can do this for twenty-nine years, but it's too dangerous for me. Rrrright."
"So, you did the opposite of what he demanded of you, and followed his path."
"Hey, what else could I do? 'Sides, a burger flipper with superspeed doesn't do much good to anyone."
"Except the obese and impatient, of course."
"Of course," I repeat, mocking his funny accent.
"Have you considered the possibility that your father only discouraged you from being a protector because he was counting on you to rebel against him?"
"You mean, he wants me to do it, so he told me not to do it, so I'd do it, because he doesn't want me to do it? That's fucked."
"If he's, as you called him, a 'manipulative control freak,' would you put something like this past him?"
I know he's wrong... but I still feel like a sucker. "You know what? Even if that was true, his little plan is gonna backfire and hit him in the face."
"Why do you say that?"
"'Cause I'm much better than him at this. I won't be remembered as the 'son of...' He'll be the side-note in my Who's Who entry. A red link in my Wikipedia article. I'm gonna be so big, he's gonna look like Gary Coleman next to me."
"Maybe that's what he wanted all along."
"Dude, you don't know my dad," I inform him, sitting up on his incredibly comfortable couch. "For starters, he hates Gary Coleman."
He smiles. "I think we're done here."
Dr. Rice approves me, with the condition that I come back to see him every week. And here I thought it had gone well.
I'd get the hell out of here, but Alfhild made me promise I'd wait for her if her session lasted longer more than mine. And it does. A lot longer. A lot lot longer. It's like she knew this would happen, the clever bitch.
What the hell are they doing in there? Maybe she got a lesbian shrink, and they began talking about Alf's first gay experience, and now they're totally making out on the couch. Daaaaaaamn... that was a great couch.
Thirty-five minutes later, after I've been politely asked to leave every office in the building, the door to the room Alfhild went into finally begins to open. If I have to come back once a week, I bet she's gonna be here twice a day. Sucks for her.
As the door opens, I hear something weird. Is that... weeping?
"It's okay, it wasn't that terrible." A man who looks almost exactly like Dr. Rice weeps under Alfhild's arm. As he cleans his face with an old handkerchief, she looks at me and shrugs. Then continues trying to console him.
I'm even more confused when the man puts away the handkerchief and I'm able to see his face. It turns out that clothes aren't the only thing he has in common with Dr. Rice... who happens to come out of his office at this precise moment.
Rice walks up to his double, and suddenly they become one. It happened so fast that even I can't tell how they did it. "Take care, Miss Alfson. See you next week, Will."
When the man walks back into his office (well, one of 'em), I turn to Alfhild, who's already on her way to the exit. "What did you do to the poor guy?"
"Nothing, we just talked," she coldly replies. "So, you have to come back? He practically begged me not to."
"Oh, that's just great."