1

Late Saturday night, Aislynn sat in her apartment having a typical conversation with a woman named Bridget. Bridget, the arrogant one. She prided herself in everything, from her looks to her fashion sense. But she wasn’t, surprisingly, thinking of those things at the moment. No, she had her full attention on Aislynn and what she had just said. She wasn’t happy, that was clear in the tone of voice she was using.

“You’re doing what?” Bridget’s voice went off like a firecracker in Aislynn’s mind. She wished one really did at that point. It would save her a lot of trouble and frustration.

“I am going to see the good doctor.” Was all Aislynn said to the other, her icy eyes cast down to the ground.

“When?”

“I set up an appointment for tomorrow.”

“What time?” Bridget’s voice had taken on a frightening coolness. Aislynn hated it when this happened. Bad things would happen when Bridget was like this.

“Half-past noon.” Aislynn answered, standing from her rocking chair. She began to pace the small living room. Her knuckles started to turn white; she had her fists clenched tightly in frustration. “And you can’t stop me, Bridget. You can’t, so don’t even try. I have a problem, I know that. And the good doctor can cure me. She said so over the phone. She can cure me. You can’t.”

For a very few, very long calculated moments, the other was silent. Aislynn tensed, the familiar feeling of fear creeping into her throat. It was not a good thing for Bridget to be silent. No, not at all. Bridget was not the type you wanted to be silent. That meant she was planning, calculating exactly what she was going to do to someone. Aislynn knew this all to well, and had every right to be afraid. She kept telling herself that Bridget couldn’t hurt her, but she knew damn well the woman could. Bridget had hurt her before. Many, many times. Aislynn’s finger idly traced a scar on the palm of her right hand. Yes, Bridget was dangerous.

“The others will not be happy.” The thick, sickening silence was suddenly broken by Bridget’s venomous voice. Aislynn stopped pacing and closed her eyes to block the outside world. She could picture Bridget’s beautiful face staring with anger into her soul.

“The others don’t know yet.” Aislynn spoke meekly, her voice the mere trickle of a spring against the raging waterfall that was Bridget.

“Well, that’s convenient.” Bridget poisoned Aislynn’s mind with sarcasm. “Do you plan on telling them?”

Aislynn sat down in her rocking chair and slowly rocked. She never let her eyes open, too frightened of the truth she could not escape.

“What difference does it make? They’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Of course they will, Aislynn.” Bridget said simply, then as an after thought added: “I’m going to tell them.”

Aislynn just sat there, her eyes closed, rocking back and forth. Slowly her eyes began to open. Her gaze focused on the coffee table. Aislynn began to feed off of Bridget’s anger. Her eyes closed again as she focused on Bridget’s anger, on her own rising anger. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up. Bridget was caught off guard by this sudden release of anger by Aislynn, who was usually so timid.

“Just shut up, Bridget. Just shut up.” The quiet of her voice put weight to the words. “You don’t own me. The others don’t own me. I am my own person. I may have to live and deal with you, but I am still my own person. Nothing can change that. I still have my own thoughts that no one can know about. Not you, not Cecil, not Dara, not anybody. I have a problem and I am going to start getting it fixed tomorrow at half-past noon.”

Bridget was silent again. Aislynn closed her eyes, praying for the pain to be quick to fade this time. She felt Bridget’s anger again, rising to a new level. She felt herself being dragged by one arm out of her rocking chair and into the kitchen. Aislynn’s eyes remained close as she heard Bridget search through the drawers for something. Aislynn could feel the cold wetness of tears stream down her cheek as Bridget found what she sought. Her eyes opened quickly and she gasped as she saw the quick glimmer of a butcher’s knife.

“So you think you have a problem, Aislynn? I’ll show you a real problem.” Bridget shouted as the other sputtered out incoherent protests.

Aislynn shook uncontrollably. Quickly, she snapped her eyes shut once more. She didn't need to see what she knew was happening. She could hear and feel every detail. Bridget held in her left hand the butcher knife. Aislynn had lost control of her body, and felt her right hand being restrained by Bridget. Then came the pain of the blade slicing easily into the tender fleshy underside of Aislynn's arm. She screamed in protest, but Bridget did not let up. She made another cut, and laughed all the while. Bridget's laughter thundered in Aislynn's mind, mixing with her screams of torment. Blood trickled down cabinets, onto the tiled floor of the kitchen as laughter and screaming became one. Relentless, Bridget kept tearing into Aislynn. The victim could feel the pain that was welling inside, the rage and hurt blurring together. Her world was turning upside-down and inside out. The yelling, the screaming, the laughter, the thrill, the fear, the pain, the ecstasy, all blurred together into a muddled and confused mind. Aislynn felt years pass by her when suddenly, the laughter stopped, and the knife clattered to the floor. Aislynn was jolted violently back to her sanity, unable to cope at first until she heard Bridget's voice.

“Now…now you have a problem Aislynn. Just remember what you are, and that no one can help you.” Bridget’s words rang clear in Aislynn’s mind as the former left. Aislynn was alone again. Opening her eyes finally, she saw the blood and groaned. Bridget had hurt her badly this time. She quickly called and ambulance, and ten minutes later was being rushed to the hospital. A little while later she was getting stitches from a male doctor. He looked concerned at the woman’s wounds. He had seen too many like this, and knew what it usually meant.

“How did this happen?” He asked the frightened girl gently as he sewed her up.

“S-self inflicted.” Aislynn muttered gently under her breath. She felt the doctor’s eyes on her, worry in his gaze. She didn’t want this, didn’t need it. What could he possibly be thinking?

“You know, Aislynn, suicide really—“

So that’s what he thought. “It wasn’t suicide. Suicide is for cowards. And please don’t use my name like you know me.” Aislynn spoke quickly, her voice soft but firm.

“Well, it looks to me like—“

“I don’t care what it looks like to you. Okay?” Aislynn could feel the anger of Bridget, and she quickly calmed herself as best as she could. “Look…I have a problem. But I am seeing somebody about it tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter.”

The doctor finished and Aislynn paid for the bill with her credits. She caught a cab home, and leaned against the glass of the window. It was raining, and the squeaking of the wipers on the windshield reminded her of Bridget’s dry laughter. Getting out of the cab, she paid the driver with what little pocket change she had and headed into her apartment building. Hardly anyone in the apartment knew her. They just knew her as the girl who kept to herself. Oh, sure, sometimes they heard screaming and talking in her apartment, but they had gotten used to it. But tonight was different. She had to call and ambulance and that caused quite a stir in the building. People had watched her be carried away by the paramedics. Police questioned a few people. Yes, officer. I heard screaming, and maybe two different voices, but I didn’t hear the door open and didn’t hear nobody leave.

But no one was in the hallway now. Aislynn slowly made her way into her small one bedroom apartment. Crawling into her bed naked except for the bandage on her right arm, she curled into a little ball under the covers. Bridget’s laughter thundered through her mind still. She began to weep, and slowly sleep overtook her. There was no one else in her room, but she knew that she was never truly alone.

2

Dr. Plehon stood silently in the disgustingly white room, wearing a disgustingly white full body jumpsuit, with disgustingly white gloves and sneakers. Her hair was died to be white. Even her dreary skin was white. And her normal eyes that were usually a fierce bright green, were covered with white contacts. It sickened her, being so white and pure. It made her feel innocent. She was far from innocent. She always felt her necessary appearance was misleading, especially in the Mind Projector.

The Mind Projector was just that. A device that, in essence, projected the mind of a human as a three-dimensional image within the white room that Plehon was standing in. Depending on the strength of the mind of both the patient and the doctor, the image could sometimes become solid and more real. While this rarely happened, it was one of Plehon’s greatest fear. No one knew exactly why it happened. The Mind Projector was a very new and very experimental piece of equipment in psychological methods, and was still a little bit in the testing stage. Few Clinics had one, and Dr. Plehon’s Clinic was the first to acquire one. However, it’s secrets died along with its developer, Dr. Richard Plax. He perished in a freak car accident in London just three days after his invention went public. Some people suspected a conspiracy against him, but others just saw it as it was, a freak car accident.

So Plehon stood in the white room feeling superiorly clean, waiting. Opposite the wall she was closest to, was a white door with a white doorknob. Behind the door, in a room that was all black, was the patient named Thomas Londy. Thomas Londy was diagnosed with a mild case of Delirium. In a constant state of euphoria, Londy began to loose interest in everything around him, and things would have to be repeated to him. That is, if his attention was ever caught by the questioner again. Different drugs and other treatments didn’t help anymore, so his family opted for the new treatment they had heard about. The Mind Projector. Perhaps if a psychiatrist could speak with the actual problem, it could be fixed. Which was what Plehon was about to do. He had to talk to the actual personification of the problem. Sometimes they were nice things, and would listen to her and go away. Other times, these problems were manifested as ugly monsters that would not listen to reason and did not want to leave. Londy’s was neither. His problem didn’t care either way, but was too lazy to move out. This was the sixth session Plehon was to have with Londy.

A few more moments of silence and the world in the white room was turned upside-down. It took a moment for the vertigo to wear off, and Plehon found herself in the familiar world of Londy’s mind. Grass so green it hurt the eyes. A sky that shone a radiant electric blue. Those were the only features, aside from the crystal clear pond in the middle of the field, in which Londy’s problem was. The personification of his problem was a little boy, perhaps a child from Londy’s past. The little boy was interested in everything in the field, but nothing outside of it. He distracted Londy from the real world and kept his thoughts internal. The boy didn’t have a name; he just called himself Boy. Londy, as usual with this type of patient, had no idea who Boy was or where he came from. Of course not, the only patients that knew the names of their problems were Schizophrenics or people with Multiple Personalities.

Plehon took a deep sigh as she walked across the springy grass to the pond where Boy was floating lazily on his back. She stopped as she reached the edge of the water, and looked at her appearance. Her appearance always changed in every patient’s mind. Right now, in Londy’s mind, she was wearing a one-piece black skintight jumpsuit and a beret to match. Her hair was long and curly, the color fiery red. She had once asked Boy what color her eyes were, and he told her they were pale blue. Why her appearance was like this in Londy’s mind, she didn’t know yet. But she was getting closer to making the problem go away. She figured she talked enough with boy to ask him today why he stayed and if he could leave.

Boy came out of his trance once he noticed Plehon standing with her bare feet in the water. Plehon couldn’t feel the water, for it was just an illusion to her and she knew this. Boy was a young child, about ten of eleven. He had blond hair and black eyes, and always appeared naked. Plehon discovered that this was a personification of Londy’s longing to be free. As Plehon watched him, Boy stood and got out of the water, splashed the doctor with water she couldn’t feel, and laid himself down in the grass before speaking with his mischievous, but somehow distant, voice.

“Well hello, Docky doc doc. How are you on this fine and gloriously glorified day?”

“Hello, Boy.” Plehon responded as if she were speaking to a real child. “I am doing well. And how are you doing? Feeling better than you were the last time we met?”

“Oh, I’m fine and dandy, Docky, fine and dandy. Been thinking thoughts of things, ya know. Lots of many things, I have been thinking thoughts about.” Boy smiled, chuckling as he looked up into the bright cloudless sky. He had the distant look in his eyes that Londy always had. “So, Docky, what brings you here today on this day of brightness and joy? Does the Docky want to have a talky with Boy about thinking things and thoughts?”

Plehon couldn’t help but smile. Boy was such a carefree person.

“Yes, Boy. I came to talk to you about many things. Are you happy here, Boy?” Plehon asked, taking a seat next to the problem. She ran her hands over the grass, but didn’t feel the individual blades. All she felt was the cold hardness of the white floor of the Mind Projector’s little white room.

“Ah…ah ha! Now, Docky is asking the right questions to ask. See, Docky, that’s one of the things I’ve been thinking many thoughts about. Happiness and joy and the act of being happy and content with everyone and everything and all that I see. And here, Docky, here is the answer that I will give to your question of questions: No.” The answer was simple, but Boy never liked to answer simply. That was in his nature. His answers were sometimes confusing and distracting, just as he was to Londy.

“Why aren’t you happy?” Plehon pressed. She felt she was definitely getting somewhere now.

For a few moments, the problem was silent. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, then looked directly up at the doctor and just stared at her for a while. Then he finally spoke once he felt that Plehon was as uncomfortable as she could get.

“Why, oh why? What makes Boy unhappy and want to cry? Simply the simple factual truth that I, Boy, am all that is here. I am alone, a lonely loner. What else is there but the sky, the pond, and me? Nothing, and no one and nobody and no how. Till you came here to the lonely world I knew nothing of anything that was outside the mind of dear good Tommy Londy. You are my friend, a friendly friend, the only friend I have ever befriended. I want more, but more I can’t get. So, Docky, talky with me and tell me with words and talking what I should do to not be lonely and take away the loneliness of being alone.” The look in Boy’s eyes was one of someone who was truly alone. Plehon felt a pang of compassion for the young boy lying there before her. She reached out a hand to brush hair out of the child’s face. Her hand, however, simply passed through his head, and Plehon was once again reminded that he was not a person. He was a problem. And it was her job to get rid of him. In a way, she felt she would regret it. She often enjoyed her meetings with Boy. It reminded her that all was not as it seemed, and the world was not the wonderful place everyone wanted to think that it was. In this unreality of Londy’s mind, Plehon was somehow brought back into reality.

Sighing, Plehon stood and looked out over the bright grassy field. She shook her head a bit, then looked down at Boy to speak to him once again. He needed to know that he was causing a problem for a real living person. He needed to understand that he wasn’t a real person, and that he was only here because of the Mind Projector. But how could she tell him that? He was so innocent and didn’t understand.

“You…don’t belong here, Boy. That’s why you are lonely.” The doctor spoke softly.

Boy looked at her a moment, then back up at the sky. Slowly he nodded, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re right as you usually are when you are right, Docky. Belonging here is not where I belong. But where is it that I belong to the belongingness then?”

“I can’t answer that, Boy. I don’t know where you will go, when you leave here. But you do know you have to leave Londy, don’t you?” Plehon asked hesitantly. She always wondered if the personifications did go somewhere after they left, and where that somewhere was.

“Oh, I know well enough to know where it is that I go, and in knowing so it frightens me to fear the known. But…I must leave here soon and with timely measure. Today is a good day, a day of joy and wonders.” Boy laughed, standing. “A good day for me to leave and be on my way to where it is I know I’ll go. Goodbye, Docky doc. Tell old Tommy Londy that I’m sorry for causing him pain and troubles with a life less ordinary than what he had…and that I will no longer be bothersome by bothering him with things he needn’t be bothered with.”

Boy walked over to Plehon and motioned for her to bend down. She did so, and Boy kissed her cheek, though she couldn’t feel it. Then Boy smiled wearily and walked over to the pond. He walked into it backwards, deeper and deeper, so that he could watch Plehon. As his head went under the water, he shot his hand up to wave a final farewell. The little hand slipped quickly away under the water and Plehon really knew what it felt like to be alone in Londy’s mind, but only for a moment. The image around her flickered and she sighed as it disappeared to leave her in the dull, boring, disgustingly white room.

That night when she got home, she checked her book to see whom the patients for the next day would be. There was only one, who would be checking into the Clinic until she was cured. But this case was exciting. There had never been one to be tested in the Mind Projector. Of course, before she could be placed into the Mind Projector, she had to go through all the regular tests, hypnosis, and other such things. But that was fine…she would go through them quickly. Yes, Dr. Plehon was definitely excited about meeting Aislynn Bere.

3

Aislynn awoke with a start the next morning. The dull ache in her arm reminded her of what had happened the night before. Blurry eyes glanced around her room as she remembered little bits and parts of her dreams. Most were about the others, how they affected her life and how they came about. She groaned and slowly tossed the sheets off of her body, then got out of the bed. Her daily ritual of taking a shower, getting dressed, and getting breakfast seemed to drag out longer today. She knew Bridget must have told the others by now. She had to have. Aislynn was just waiting for one of the others to burst into her thoughts and yell at her. It was one thing that she was used to now. She never had been before, but now she was used to it.

Her breakfast consisted of a cold ham and egg sandwich from some fast food chain, and was not very appetizing. She ended up throwing half of it away in the park where she had gone to work on yet another faulty piece of artwork. Aislynn always carried her sketchbook with her, no matter where she went. Her sketches were small, usually, and mostly abstract. That’s how she felt her world was sometimes. A limitless space of abstract tendencies and ideas.

Her latest sketch was a scratchy charcoal of a little blind boy, sitting alone, in a dark corner crying. This little boy was one she knew well. His name was Cecil. One of the others that she new. She liked Cecil better than any one else. He was hurt the most out of everyone she knew. She wanted to take his pain away, but didn’t know how.

She sighed, finishing the picture, and then stood. Her appointment was in a few minutes, and she had to get going. She caught a cab, paid with her credits, and stood outside the building. She stared up at the three-story building before her and sighed. In big, bold, black capital letters the word CLINIC hung ominously over the door. There were no windows on the walls, and the ones on the door were completely opaque black. The walls of the building were stark white.

Sickening. Aislynn thought to herself as she took a deep breath and stepped through the doors.