[Open] We'll murder them amid laughter and merriment

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Dr. Crane and YOU.
WHERE: ImPort Clinic, Nonah.
WHEN: March 1st till March 6th.
WHAT: Crane's available to talk to about all your problems. He might be probing and prodding, and trying to perceive your fears at the same time. Or maybe you're just housewarming?
WARNINGS: Psychological discussions of a personal note.

It wasn't the most personal office Crane was sitting in, but it was one he knew people'd come to visit nonetheless. He'd deliberately chosen the decorations of his abode in as little time as possible. Clean and traditional, the office was sterile with few home comforts; there wasn't a single telling thing that could reveal something about himself.

The walls were charcoal grey, like the floor, which Crane had attempted to desharpen by having workers lay a muted cream carpet with a black border. He'd unceremoniously placed a yucca tree in the corner, next to a tanned suede couch. He'd had his chair moved opposite, in which he was currently reclining, with a green-upholstered antique footstool in the middle. The old table on his right had nothing on its surface - another hint at his drab nature. Or his fastidious cleanliness. His even older desk was shoved up against the far wall and supported just a lamp, a password-locked laptop and some notebooks. There was a single shelf of books compared to the wall-to-wall library back at his residence - with only a thin copy of The Murders in the Rue Morgue nestled deliberately between the spines. An eagle-eyed visitor would notice the discreprency, and in turn give him an opening into their psyche.

It was an uncomfortable place to be blocked in, with only Crane's blue eyes watching. He didn't particularily care - it was a place to learn and talk. Making it his home was illogical.

Someone rapping his door pricked his ears. He stopped reading and set his book on the table before rising to answer and lead his visitor in. The light from the ceiling-to-wall bay window was flooding the room and making it feel larger than the box it was.

"Thank you for coming."

Comments

[attainment]

Fear being a natural, biological mechanism is something he briefly mentioned to Hiro when discussing the boy's own fear of fire, so Barnaby understands where Crane is coming from. Ultimately, fear is difficult to control -- but learning to live with it, while maintaining a good quality of life, is a good thing to strive for. For that reason, Barnaby sees treatment as a stepping stone to that end, rather than a band-aid. He's inwardly pleased to see that reflected in Crane's way of thinking.

"I have done some research," he responds, "although most likely with layman's terms." Understanding the deeper motives behind current conditions sounds like a fairly common-sense approach, so it's something Barnaby is willing to try.

"There is something you should probably know, though," Barnaby continues. "Although I have no trouble remembering things that have happened since I came to this world, my memory of events back home isn't as reliable. Do you think that would be a problem?"

[restingstitchface]

"Of course not. Any psychiatrist worth his salt knows the memory storehouse can be... leaky and unreliable. That the tiniest thought can catch between the cracks and gently needs easing through."

He's speaking softly, and while his tone is cool and thoughtful about how best to pull those memories back to the surface, he's actually quite excited to see what they are, underneath it all. The silent implication is that clearly he values knowledge in his field, and doesn't give much consideration to those who would set up business just for the sake of money whilst having no real skill. His lips rise into a small smile.

"Fortunately, analytical psychiatry has a focus on bringing to the surface things we've hidden so deeply about ourselves, amongst other things."

[attainment]

"My case may be a little...unusual," he admits with an oddly subdued expression. "Some of my memories are, unfortunately, a product of someone else's ability to manipulate them."

Just how much, he can't say. What matters is that Maverick changed enough for Barnaby to question his own ability to parse through what's real and what isn't. This isn't something he likes to advertise for obvious reasons, but he understands why it might become relevant should he start seeing someone on a regular basis.

His mouth twists into a wry expression. "Simply put, anyone who ends up asking me for a novel about my life will likely be frustrated by an unreliable narrator."

[restingstitchface]

Crane notices the unnatural twist in Barnaby's expression - the attempt at humor to mask the fear of second-guessing his own mind. How intriguing it must be. To wake up one morning with a whole collection of fresh, new memories. A completely new psyche. What wondrous changes could his persuasion wrought? He has to control his curiosity over it. He doesn't want to scare the young man away - yet.

His carefully chosen reaction is simple; calm, clinical professionalism. His eyebrows lower in thought, just a little - but no more.

"You're observant," he says, drawing him closer by involving him in their discussion. "Don't you think the mind is an unreliable narrator at the best of times? In my profession it's called observer bias. How much of our mind do we control? The subconscious is immeasurable. We remember events from childhood - swiftly, and for no reason at all. Is anything about it uncomfortable for you, really?"

He hopes so.

[attainment]

A little less than a year after that bombshell rocked his world, Barnaby has found himself gradually drifting toward doses of dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's probably the sort of thing most people would find uncomfortable, so he appreciates Crane's lack of comment regarding that particular matter.

What the man says instead is interesting, although Barnaby isn't sure whether he's trying to assure him that his issue won't negatively impact his ability to treat him, or if it's an attempt to put things in a less unsettling context. In the end, Barnaby wonders if he's conveying the gravity of the situation well enough.

"Observer bias is one thing -- natural, even, when you think about how we're wired," he quietly says. "What I'm talking about is someone pasting over my real memories with fabrications that suited their needs. It's not just my own filter I have to think about, I've literally remembered things that didn't happen at all, and have completely forgotten things I never would have under normal circumstances."

[restingstitchface]

Crane stays silent.

He's thinking about the gravity of the situation, clearly - adopting a clinical pose in his chair, head tilted back, shoulders pinned, making sure to get a good view of Barnaby's physical reactions. Identity issues were things most people found uncomfortable, so he appreciates Barnaby's willingness to share them with him - and doesn't lean forward as intrusively as he could.

That comes later. His patience compared his patients was long and deep - and it was rare his subjects were either. Those anxious cases were the ones he loved. All anxious cases he loved, really - but he relished the special ones. Everyone felt fear, but some people experienced it profoundly. The fear of not knowing who you are when you awake? Fascinating.

"So. Not only do you wake up uncertain about who you are - or will become - you have a second person to worry about. That must be hard."

[attainment]

“I didn't realize it for a long time,” Barnaby said in an even tone. “My memories felt too real to doubt much, and any suspicions I may have had were easy to erase. I'll likely never know the full extent of what was done to me.”

He wants to say he doesn't have to worry about people controlling him anymore, but that's not true, is it? Maverick may be dead, but there are people in this world who have already manipulated memories in order to further their own agenda. To think he might be spared from something so horrible is simply naïve. Unfortunately, the mere notion feels like a getting dropped into a bucket of ice water.

“There isn't much to be done about it now, so I generally try not to dwell on it,” he adds. “But I realize it's something I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life, which means I try to acknowledge what happened when I feel it's appropriate.”

[restingstitchface]

"That's good," he begins saying, "but life marches to the beat of its own drum, Barnaby. You won't have the freedom to choose when to challenge your fears, most of the time."

He's used to sometimes having to use a gentle touch; it's important to garner trust. The trust of his patients is one of his most useful tools. He built it by emphasising similarities and keeping his calm, professional manner - and he destroyed it easily when it came down to fulfiling his work.

"Though you try not to dwell, such thoughts are regularily intrusive. These thoughts are better addressed by questioning them immediately." He pauses in consideration. "I would have you expose your memories and dwell in them, rather than shy away."