chool Shrink
Isaac walked down the empty hall to the councilor’s office. The summons had come during 7th period, and Mr. Graeber’s pict had flashed into him, urging him to stand up and leave class.
Worry bloomed in his amygdala (?), at war with the (TODO: insert neural basis of soothing here). There was no doubt that they were tracking his infatuation with reading. But had they discovered his sabotage of the bacteria destined to build his mindweb?
He went the restroom and his locker on the way to the office. And then, for good measure, he stopped by a second restroom and washed his face. The Mind was trying to soothe him, but his anxiety was deeper and more cerebral than it could immediately address.
As he air-dryer dried his face, he thought about walking out, getting into his mindcar, and going home to pick up some extra dream credits on freeMarket. It would be fun to test his parking gate override hack.
Instead, he headed down to the councilor’s office, past the rows of trophies the junior generals had won in mock combats, and past the long row of mirrors that reminded him of the dark circles under his eyes, markers of his struggles against being part of the Mindnet in dreams.
Yeah, he was sane.
He would just tell them that. He would just tell them how much he loved the Mind.
Or no, he would just assume he was sane, and communicate the way a lover of sanity and the Mind would communicate.
Sane people take for granted their sanity. It’s how they slip into the stream and get carried along each day to sane places to do sane things while having sane conversations.
Gah! Just forget the word. Project confidence like people who aren’t trying to project anything at all.
Except perfectly.
But perfectly imperfect, because too-perfect people are always projecting something.
Brilliant. That’s helpful, really helpful.
Maybe he could just pretend to be Billy. He laughed inwardly at that. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Pulling at the seams that were meant to be pulled at. Taking for granted his privilege and status.
On second thought, he didn’t really think he could fake it. After all, it was the second-guessing, the consciousness that made him split. And that couldn’t be undone. Maybe a big fat “fuck you” was in order, he thought with a flash of anger.
Or maybe he should just avoid talking too much with these people who were arrogantly manipulating his destiny.
He could see her through the glass on either side of the door. She was blond and young-seeming like someone who’d had the Mind with them since the flower of youth. Her projected clothing melded with the pattern of the chair beneath, like a chameleon at rest, and she was leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed, totally focused on the mindscreen.
On her desk picture screens with beautiful lucid actors flickered faintly, like icons illuminated by candle. She probably spent her dreamspace inside their perspectives, hoping their gorgeous consciousness would imprint on her own. It was expensive, but she could afford it.
He knocked, and as her eyes opened, her clothing snapped to a brown vintage panstsuit, embroidered with tie fighters and x-wings that lasered each other across embroidery-pixels.
“Come in,” he felt in picto tinged with the welcome of a brick fireplace. Huh, he thought, she’s a native picto thinker. “Picto or mouthspeak?” came the question, with a gentle persuasion toward picto moving through it.
Yeah no. Picto would give her direct access to his limbic system. But words, plain old mouthspeak, came down from above through the cortex, which filtered and clouded the emotional metadata. Kind of handy for disagreeing with authority.
“English,” said Isaac. Mouthspeak was actually not translatable.
“Very well.” She smiled with her mouth. “Welcome, Isaac! I’m Janet, but you can call me Jan.” She stood up and extended her hand.
“Hi.” She’s not as convincing in mouthspeak. A smile touched his eyes as he shook her hand.
“So, it’s come to my attention that you’re working to learn how to read. And that you’re splitting.” She was looking directly at him.
“Hmm.” He avoided her gaze.
“You know, I didn’t want to choose the Mind at first.” She lowered her head slightly and tried to catch his eye.
“Oh?” His eyes were firmly fixed on her desk. He actually didn’t care what sort of pre-history this mindslave had invented to try to soften up his brain.
“No. And I’ve seen that you’re the same way.” She looked into his eyes even though he didn’t return the gaze.
“It’s all right, I know that you don’t want to talk about it. It’s a secret to you. You feel like you’d betray yourself if you let on that you were experimenting with the Mind. Well, not here. This is a safe space.” He glanced up and she looked at at him meaningfully.
“Thanks,” Isaac glanced sideways in a passive-aggressive dismissal of what she’d just said.
She smiled a small smile that told him she knew what his game was. Oh yeah, he was doing real great just going with the flow here. As though she couldn’t read what that little eye motion meant. Why couldn’t he just pretend to play along, ever, even when it mattered?
“I have something that I think will interest you,” she said, her inflection enticing.
“Oh?” He was trying a little harder right now, but he wondered if it would matter.
“Yes. Have you ever wanted to be an eye?” Her eyebrows rose on the last word.
He shrugged. Of course he had. Every kid wanted to be an eye at some point, until the everyday got a grip on them. Eyes were the Mind’s intelligence service out in the wilds where the space was thin. There were a thousand lucids devoted to eyes as they plumbed the depths of the vac world, encountering all manner of monstrous aberrations, handling grotesqueries with mindful aplomb, their intellects reinforced with the weight of the Mind. Yeah, he had done all the eye lucids.
“You know that we offer a Vac Studies course here? A special curriculum for those who have shown particular aptitude yet have grown weary of the standard curriculum?”
“Yeah?” he looked up and met her eyes.
Her eyes crinkled slightly with a smile. “You have been chosen for an opportunity to follow around an eye. You would participate with him for half of a day on Thursdays, to get the flavor of his work and prepare you, if you were to so choose, to follow in his footsteps.” Her head canted down on the last word as though impressed.
“Really?” Following around an eye? He’d never heard of such a thing. He felt excitement rising up inside him.
“Yes, of course. But it is somewhat dangerous. So it’s not for the faint of heart. But you don’t seem particularly faint to me.” She smiled radiantly. “You can take your first mission today. Would you like to miss out on the rest of your classes today and learn what the vac world is really like?”
Miss the rest of his classes today? Follow a real eye? Fuck yeah. He nodded.
“Good. Your instructor will be Roman. He will further brief you. You’ll find him at door E10, in a white van.” She flashed another of her whole-face smiles.
Isaac stood up. An eye? Going into vac world? Wow.
“You’ll have to hurry so as not to be late. Remember, I’ve got an open door. If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here to listen.” She stood and moved to open the door in the oldschool manner of a meatspace host.
“Okay.” As he left, he felt her hand briefly on his shoulder, and despite his excitement, he felt a chill at her touch.