John Moralee - Future Imperfect - A Collection of Science Fiction Stories

The AI was always listening in and observing everything – but it didn’t like to intrude unless it was asked a direct question. “Therapy was my recommended course of action. I would have not allowed you to harm the other crew or passengers. Treatment was necessary.”

Mazina was curious. “Milton, should I have therapy?”

“Based on my observations, I would recommend it,” the computer said. “Shall I book you an appointment with Dr Collins?”

“I’ll try it,” Mazina said, reluctantly.

“You can see Dr Collins at four this afternoon – if that is convenient?”

“Great,” she said without enthusiasm. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Cheer up,” Kai said. “She will help you.”

“I hope so. I just don’t like the idea of someone trawling through my memories, trying to fix me like I’m an app with a software glitch.”

“It’s not like that,” Kai said, continuing to rub her feet, making her sigh with pleasure. “Dr Collins won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. You will be in control of the treatment. Relax now. Just enjoy a foot rub until your appointment.”

“We’ve got hours before I go,” she said. “Want to join me for a shower?”

Kai grinned. “It’s like you read my mind.”

Nervous and self-conscious, Mazina entered a large circular room with white walls and a scattering of comfy furniture where a dark-haired woman was waiting. They shook hands. The doctor was wearing a light grey suit. For some strange reason, she reminded Mazina of her mother. They had the same colour of eyes. Mazina wondered if the doctor had chosen that eye colour just for her counselling or if it was a mere coincidence.

“Cookies?” Dr Collins said, offering a selection of delicious-smelling freshly baked oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies.

“Thanks,” Mazina said. “Hmm! These are amazing.” She was not lying. They were the best cookies she had ever tasted. “Worth showing up just for these. So, do you want me to lie on a couch, Doctor?”

“You can – but any chair will do. Pick what makes you comfortable. And there’s no need to be formal, Mazina. You can call me Phoebe.”

Mazina picked a soft chair with plump cushions. A silver drone brought her a cup of coffee that perfectly complemented her chosen cookies. The walls changed from boring white to a beautiful background of the Great Lakes on Earth, recorded many centuries ago. It felt like she was sitting on the shore, feeling a cool breeze on her face, brushing lightly through her hair. It was very relaxing.

Dr Collins sat opposite her, sipping tea. “I’m glad you’re here, Mazina. I believe I can help you. I’ve reviewed your personal history and psych profile. You lost your parents Olga and Vladimir when you were seven.”

It wasn’t a question – but the psychologist’s pause made Mazina want to say something. “Yes – that’s correct. They died in an accident on the shell. My mom was the squad leader. My dad was her second-in-command.”

“It was a horrible tragedy. Your aunt and uncle became your guardians after the accident. You lived with them until this year, when you moved out to live by yourself.”

Again – not a question. But the silence needed to be filled. “I love my aunt and uncle – but I needed some independence.”

Dr Collins nodded – but she said nothing.

“Um. Things got a little awkward. I have a boyfriend and their home is pretty small. They could hear things if I had my boyfriend … you know. Um. They’ve also recently had another baby – so they needed the extra room. I still see them every day, though. We get on well. My uncle is training me for the gecko squad. He was one of them until he switched jobs. Aunt Lena insisted on that after what happened to my parents. She doesn’t approve of me volunteering for space duties. She thinks it is too risky – but it’s what I want. I’ve always wanted to join the gecko squad like my mom and dad. But I keep having these panic attacks when I’m practising. I stray thinking about my parents dying and completely freak out. The attacks seem to be getting worse.” She stopped for a breath. “Listen to me talk! Am I saying what you already know?”

“Yes – but I don’t mind listening.”

“Can you stop me panicking?”

“I can do various treatments.”

“Like what?”

“I can give you a drug to stop you panicking, limiting your fight-or-flight response, though it might affect your reactions.”

“I don’t want that. What else is there?”

“I could suppress your memories of your parents dying in space – but I don’t advise that.”

“Why not?”

“It would change your personality. Without those memories, you would be a different person. It’s an extreme treatment. I’d prefer to observe you under the stressful conditions of a sim mission. With your permission, Milton could monitor your mind and give me access to those memories. Then I might be able to figure out exactly what is triggering your panic. We could do the test tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that.”

That evening she met Kai and her family for dinner in the Garden Dome café, where her aunt, uncle, nephews and nieces often enjoyed a meal. She liked listening to their chatter, which often turned into laughter as everyone enjoyed themselves. That night she was happy to just listen to everyone else until she had enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine and built up the courage to tell her uncle about the therapy.

“I have something to announce,” she said during the main course. “Dr Collins is going to treat me for my panic attacks. She’ll observe me doing a sim so she can figure out what’s wrong with me and recommend therapy.”

“Therapy?” Uncle Sergei said. “Why would you need therapy? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I agree,” Aunt Lena said. “There is nothing wrong with you. Except that you want to get yourself killed in space.”

Uncle Sergei squeezed his wife’s hand. “She’s not going to die in space. I’m training her so that will never happen.”

“The therapy will help me. It helped Kai.”

Kai had been sitting quietly at the table until all eyes turned upon him. “Dr Collins is very good, Mr Valentov. Maz is in good hands. Believe me. She can help.”

Her uncle gave Kai a stare colder than the hard vacuum outside the ship. “You don’t need therapy, Mazina. You just need to try harder. That’s the solution to everything. Therapy is for wimps.” That comment was directed at Kai.

Kai bristled. “Are you calling me a wimp?”

“I say what I think,” her uncle said.

The table fell silent. Kai and Uncle Sergei glared across it. Kai spoke first. “Therapy isn’t for wimps, Mr Valentov.”

“Really? I didn’t hear about you volunteering for the gecko squad. Is that because you are afraid, kid?”

Mazina had to stop them from fighting. “Uncle, don’t be so rude. Kai is not a wimp. Apologise for saying that.”

Her uncle folded his arms. “Nyet. I will not apologise for telling the truth.”

Kai pushed his plate away. “Excuse me. I’ve lost my appetite.”

He stormed out of the café. Mazina glared at her uncle. “Why did you have to insult my boyfriend?”

“Insult? I didn’t insult him. I just spoke the truth.”

Aunt Lena sighed. “Oh, be quiet Sergei. You’ve had too many beers. You always say the wrong thing when you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he said. “I’ve only had three drinks.”

“Then you are an idiot,” Aunt Lena said. “And you will apologise to the boy the next time you see him.”

“Nyet. I won’t.”