With a deep breath, to quell those pesky nerves fluttering in my stomach, I knocked on the door in front of me. Doctor Sunters was working in the same complex Sophia was treated in and I was planning to visit her afterwards, for that, I had enough of my costume in my bag to change. For the visit with the Doctor, I had made the conscious choice to go with civilian dress, at least partially to convince myself that openness was the only way for therapy to work. But to allow myself to trust the Doctor, I had felt a need to know everything about her, going over her life with a fine-toothed comb, even commiting quite a few digital crimes in my spree to get to know her.
“Enter.” a voice called from inside and I was greeted by a friendly smiling receptionist. She had a matronly figure and everything about her told of comfort and friendliness. She looked like the kind of grandmother that turned up in stories, always ready with a platter of cookies, a cup of tea, an open ear and friendly advice.
“Good Afternoon, I have an appointment with Doctor Sunters. Diana Hunt is the name.” I introduced myself, smiling despite my nervousness. Part of me wondered if she was Powered, I doubted it but her simple presence made me relax despite myself.
“Ah, yes. The Doctor will be with you in a few minutes, she’s just about to come off her break.” the receptionist answered and pointed me to a waiting room painted in a friendly, babyblue.
“In fact, the Doctor will see you right now.” A voice called through an open door in the back.
“Well, that takes care of the wait. Why don’t you go right through, it seems the Doctor is cutting her coffee-break short.” the receptionist told me in a long-suffering voice, hinting that the Doctor did that a lot and the receptionist did not approve.
I entered the back-room and looked around for a moment, taking note of potential trouble. The room was painted in a soft, creamy off-white, one side of the room was dominated by a large desk, the other by a beige couch next to a comfortable armchair. The Doctor was waiting for me, right next to the door, instead of behind the desk, projecting an air of friendly openness. Part of me was taking note of the ways the whole setup was designed to put patients at ease, impressing me with their thoroughness.
Behind the window was a wide expanse of glass, something I had noticed during my research, but curiously, the glass was isolated against vibrations, making it impossible to hear anything from the outside, even when using sophisticated tools like a laser-microphone. Similarly, I knew that trying to listen with ordinary bugs was impossible, I had tried it and the bug had instantly been fried. The next day, Technica had presented me the destroyed bug, telling me that she understood that I had to be cautious, but the protections in the hospital were quite thorough.
The Doctor herself was quite the woman, not tall, in fact slightly smaller than me, and looking younger than her fifty-seven, with a head of short, silver hair. Her face was slightly tanned and I could see some crow’s feet, crinkle around her eyes.
“Good Afternoon, as you know, I’m Doctor Theresa Sunters.” She offered me her hand to shake, her gaze measuring me for a split-second.
“Good afternoon, Doctor. For now, call me Diana.”
“Don’t mind Rebecca, she’s always on my case not to work too much.” she continued as we shook and closed the door.
“Now, the appointment was made from someone inside the Guild and I’ll tell you right up front, no matter who made the appointment, Doctor-Patient Confidentiality will not be breached. I know, words are cheap and all that, but I make a point to tell everyone that what is said here, will not be discussed outside of this room, without your express and explicit permission.” she stated, her voice resolute, while still holding my hand.
“Thank you, Doctor.” she let go of my hand and I considered her words for a moment.
“And yes, I know that my appointment was made by my…” I paused for a second, considering what to call Technica, “by my teacher inside the Guild.”
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Now, it was my turn to measure her with my gaze. She clearly noticed the scrutiny but did not comment, patiently waiting for me to move further.
“Part of me wants to make some sort of threat, telling you that if you tell anyone about what you learn from me, I will kill you, or something along those lines.” I started, quickly impressed by the fact that the only reaction to the implied threat to her life was a slightly raised eyebrow.
“But, you are a Doctor of Psychiatry, working with potentially mentally unstable Powered. I have no doubt you have heard all kind of threats, promises of revenge and whatever nonsense people thought to spout. I doubt that I could make an impression. So, I will simply tell you that people’s lives depend on your silence and be done with it. Unless my research into you painted a completely false picture, that knowledge, combined with the oath you took upon becoming a Doctor should ensure your silence.” I continued and had a wry grin on her face when I finished.
“Oh, dear. Part of me wants to ask about that research into me, and I will, later, but for now, why don’t you take a seat and we get to know each other?” she asked, pointing to the couch. Part of me wanted to joke about getting put onto the therapist's-couch, but I refrained, simply taking a seat while she sat on the armchair.
“Is that what you would call an armchair-psychologist?” I asked, causing her to laugh for a moment.
“Why shouldn’t I be just as comfortable as you are?” she retorted, one eyebrow raised once again.
“Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” she started the serious part of our conversation.
Partially to stall for time, partially to see her reaction, I carefully pulled off the black glove I wore over my left arm, hiding the shiny silver below. Once again, she hardly reacted, patiently waiting for me to speak.
“Tell you about myself, huh? I guess I should start with the big things. I told you, the request from the Guild was made on behalf of my teacher, or rather, I asked her and she made it. Said teacher is Councillor Technica.” I started, still considering what to reveal. When I spoke the words ‘Councillor Technica’, I noticed a subtle change on her face, not quite awe that I was being taught by a Councillor, but recognition, mixed with surprise.
“So, you know her.” I stated, not waiting for her to speak. “Yes, you know her. You know my mother.” Finally, there was a crack in the Doctor’s mask of friendly professionalism and for a moment, she truly looked surprised.
“And I guess that is as good as a place to start as any. You see, some two decades ago, Councillor Technica was, according to everything I have heard, mainly from her, happily married to my father.” I paused for a second, but continued without adding the added complication of the other side of my family to the mix. “Sadly, some two years after my birth, she was called to duty and decided that she had to heed the call. And that particular call meant that she could not have a family, not even remote contact. So she left, left my father, left my older brother and left me.”
The Doctor’s mask was back and she let me simply talk, listening intently but for now, without asking questions.
“My father, from what I gathered did not take her leaving well. You might have noticed that I resemble Technica a great deal. I think my father noticed, too, and a few years ago, he started to become less and less able to talk to me, simply talking at me and expecting to be obeyed.” I noticed that my voice was becoming harsh and angry, just from thinking about my family situation back home.
“Another problem arose from the fact that my father is an old-fashioned man, so early in my life, he arranged a marriage with the parents of someone moving in the same social strata, something straight out of a period-drama.” I continued after taking a deep breath to get myself back under control.
“It seems your father is rather important to your story. What can you tell me about him?” she stopped, asking a direct question for the first time.
“My father. He is a great admirer of the classics, Machiavelli in particular, I think he is able to quote the entirety of De Principatibus from memory. And he tries to emulate those teachings, both in personal life and in his business-dealings. If you go by results, I guess he has a point. While he did not take a national company and make it into an international powerhouse, like his father did, or start from rubble and dirt, like his grandfather did, he was able to forge the family-company into an entity that could withstand any storm. Me, marrying into another financial dynasty was part of that, connecting the monolith that is KingCorps to the vast network of companies under the Greene-mantle.” Again, her mask cracked for a moment and shocked surprise was visible.
“Indeed, the name Diana Hunt is one of convenience, a name I have taken after dying in a horrible house-fire. When I was born, my parents named me Alexandria King.” It had taken a few gentle pushes from Galatea to keep me talking, but the important parts were out. Sure, there was still the thing with killing Clark, but somehow, compared to the bombs I had dropped in just my introduction, that felt minor.