Willard exchanged greetings with his psychologist, Mrs. Marian Lopez-Floria. Today he decided to forgo the comfort of the sofa and instead chose one of the chairs that let him sit upright.
After getting settled, Marian asked, "How have you been, Willard?"
He took a moment to consider his answer, then he said, "Getting used to the new normal, I guess. How about yourself?"
"Fine. Thank you for asking." The psychologist paused to assess Mr. Buss. "The new normal? You've told me a little about the past few months but has something else happen since our last session?"
"Actually, yes.” He paused and offered the courtesy, “If you don't mind?"
"Please."
"I was boarding a train with someone close to me."
The psychologist interrupted, "Sorry. Are you comfortable telling me who?"
"I...I honestly can’t say."
"It’s all right, Mr. Buss. Please, continue."
"Of course. We sat down together. Against my better judgment offered to take the aisle seat..."
—
Trains are one of the things that I have not got accustomed to staying in a large city. There a never-ending flow of people getting on and off them, and people pack themselves tightly into small spaces that already appears ready to burst. Then the train moves on only to stop once more and slide open its doors for even more people to press themselves in. I try to remind myself that I am not someone to so easily succumb to phobias. With the research I have been working on in the lab the past few months, one would think being surrounded by people would be the last of my worries. I had to admit that the crush of people around me had given me an uneasy feeling. The feeling made me progressively less settled, yet more people crowded aboard from the subway platform.
Of course, my companion did not seem to give the first thought to the mass of people. At least, there was no outward display of concern. They sat and stared out through the paneled glass of the train car at nothing in particular. Having the familiar face beside me brought a little bit of needed comfort. If only I could be so divorced from the situation as they. At that moment I wished I'd taken Berg's advice about going to see a psychologist. He said on occasion if the work bothered me so damn much maybe I should see a shrink. Despite the unpleasant delivery of his counsel, it was, after all, sound advice. Instead, I have to resort to practicing guided meditation delivered to me by a recorded Australian voice on a subscription-based phone app. I'd feasibly be better off if I canceled the premium service, but it offered a distraction.
Just thinking about the ridiculous app offered its own distraction, but the uneasy feeling returned as the moment passed. It had been several minutes, but people were still boarding the train. The damn thing should have been full and moving by now. I looked out onto the platform. It was as crowded now as it was before we first stopped. People continued to board even though I could not understand how. The train was full, and no one had gotten off. To mollify my curiosity, I stood up to look. That is when I discover that the source of my uneasiness was not claustrophobia. It was something else entirely. I can not describe it any better than it was darkness. I could only see the edges of the shadows forming beyond the mash of people. It sat barely outside of my vision, but I could perceive it moved closer and closer towards the two of us. The train's passengers simply meandered forward into its enveloping shadow. I tried to grab a nearby passenger, but they slipped through my grasp and continued steadily forward. I looked again at the front of the train; the darkness had moved closer. A notion began to tug at my mind to join the other passengers. I was able to compose myself enough to ignore the urge. Fighting the urge I sat down instead, but it did nothing to ease my panic. I could not stay here when it was all I could do to sit here and not run headlong to my fate. Doing so would certainly put an end to the pain of my fear.
I looked over to my companion who had joined me on the train. The man continued to stare off through the glass panel of the train oblivious to the danger. I reached out and shook his arm doing anything I could think of to get his attention. I was desperate because I knew that he had to leave before it was too late.
—
Willard winced from a headache he hadn’t noticed before.
The Psychologist cut in with a concern expression and said, "I can understand why you would find this upsetting. Are you okay to continue telling me about your dream?”
Willard took a moment to regain his composure as the pain passed. He said, “Sorry, where was I. Oh, right. I sat down and in the window seat...”
—
The thing that I have grown to love about living in New York is the train. For some odd reason, I find the lights of the subway relaxing. Watching the lights fell almost hypnotic in a way. I know I can send for a car and it'd probably be safer. Since I joined the Contingent, something like a robbery seems trivial. I guess I have become more adventures. There was only one other passenger on the train this morning anyway. And, there were the lights.
On queue with that though, my phone rang.
I answered and said hello. There was a lot of static, but I was surprised I had a signal at all. It was hard to understand what they were trying to say. It made sense with the train being underground. I tried to cope with the static in case it was important. I struggled to understand and responded, "No. I'm not Steve." The caller sounded persistent. I tried to explain that I couldn't understand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Not the corner of my eye; words were scrawled all over the inside of the train. They were unintelligible and the harder I focus on them less sense they made. I was starting to panic because I was seeing ghosts. We've been having these sessions regularly which helped, and I’ve been practicing my meditation at the behest of Gabrielle. I closed my eyes and started my breathing technique.
No sooner than I got them closed someone or some grabbed hold of my arm. It startled me something serious considering the only other person onboard was sound asleep at the opposite end of the compartment. Then I remembered I hadn’t boarded the train alone. I opened my eyes and saw a face etched with panic sitting. I saw my face. It was only then that I recognized the voice on the phone was mine. The person wearing my face started speaking in the same panicked voice from my phone.
"Listen. The Silver Ibis project was created to keep me...you safe." the voice pause, "You need to stand up. You need to head to the nearest exit. You have to leave this place. You have to forget." Their voice broke as they said, "You have to forget what happened here and never look back." They recovered their composure and finished, "Willard Buss, you have an appointment to keep."
—
A puzzled look crossed the Psychologist's face. The expression replaced her usual pleasant blandly expression. She waited a moment to give Willard a chance to continue before finally saying, "That, uh, there is a lot to unpack. Let us start with how you felt after having the dream?"
Willard stood suddenly. He said, "I have to go. I'm sorry.” In a very mechanical sounding voice, he said, “I have an appointment to keep."
Despite his psychologist's protests Willard got up from his seat and left her office.
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