TR: Another One of These? (Sean and Calliope)

The lockdown drills remained one aspect of Hammel with which Sean continued to disagree. He had lived through the Cold War and the duck and cover drills. While the lockdown drills had more applicability than duck and cover (primarily because ducking under one’s desk would do nothing in the face of an atomic explosion, while hiding could theoretically aid one to evade capture or attack), they were still sterile and disruptive. They often caused unnecessary anxiety with the younger students.

At the least the psychiatrist had been in his office when the alert had sounded, so that he didn’t find himself locked in a different room. The lights went off, and, in accordance with the drill, he moved away from the window since it was easy to make out his silhouette from the outside, given his size. Instead, he settled in one of the armchairs at the other end of his office.

Only a few moments later, the door opened and someone was ushered inside. Sean immediately recognized her as Calliope. Since she was alone, it was quite possible that it would only be the two of them riding out the drill together.

“Welcome,” he greeted the young woman. He was somewhat laxer about protocols than some of the other staff members.

Sean didn’t move from where he sat. Instead, a small smile crossed the psychiatrist’s lips, a combination of reassurance and amusement at the question. “Ideally yes, but I’m a little old to shift positions at the drop of a hat, and I’ve already done my calisthenics for the day.”

As far as Sean was concerned, the procedures benefitted the students and the security staff the most. The students had to learn how to hide, in the worst of circumstances; the security staff had to run their drills as needed. However, there was essentially no situation in which a man of his size couldn’t be a target, particularly when his reputation was taken into account.

Besides, he would have his hands full in an actual attack, as he would have to act as both a communications hub while trying to erase as many memories as possible to incapacitate those who put the students at risk.

“Would you like something to drink, since we’ll be here for a while?” Admittedly, he only had water and ginger ale, but those were better than nothing, typically. Particularly since there was no time table for the drills (having a time table undermined the purpose of having unexpected attack drills).

“I won’t enforce that rule,” Sean replied with a single nod. Since he didn’t agree entirely with the exercise, and since he was the larger target and wasn’t in full compliance, it would be hypocritical of him to enforce it. The psychiatrist did believe that there was more utility in students practicing the techniques than the adults, since the students were the ones who needed to remain safe. However, if such a situation arrived, he was sure that he could coax Calliope into hiding while he tended to the danger.

Sean turned, peering out the window to see what she saw. Unsurprisingly, there were students who viewed the exercise with the same dubiousness that the psychiatrist did. That was a matter for security; he wasn’t involved in that.

In response to her question, Sean replied, “A psychiatrist, actually.” He wasn’t one to arrogantly or aggressively wave his credentials around, but there was a distinction to be made. Psychologists went to graduate school to study psychology; psychiatrists went to medical school and specialized in psychiatry. “But yes, and then I have a hand in several other aspects of Hammel life. I’ll give a lecture your senior year that I’m sure you’ll remember, once it happens.”

That she hadn’t engaged with him before spoke well of her disciplinary record.

When she settled on the edge of his desk, Sean shook his head in the negative. “This isn’t structurally sound.” The desk had been through a lot over the years. “It can’t support a person’s weight, so you need to use a chair.” He expected that she would abide by the request.

“That’s the lecture,” the psychiatrist confirmed with a nod. He only gave the one, fortunately, as he had never planned to become a teacher. Moreover, he didn’t think that Hammel would be able to handle having multiple sexual education lectures, given how the students reacted to the single one that he gave each summer. At least Calliope had attended the one last year, which was mild in terms of events; the practical jokes and fallout had been minimal. As contrasted with the prior year...

“I do on both counts,” he replied with another nod. The psychiatrist did what he could to preserve the privacy of those around them, by not revealing their secrets; he also didn’t advertise his powers as a means of boasting. At the same time, he didn’t hide his powers, and if mentioned outright, he would never deny their existence or the potential.

At the mention of her brothers, Sean suppressed a sigh. He did know them, and he remembered them well. “I remember your brothers.” There were tactful ways to reminisce about their behavior, and as such, the psychiatrist said, “You have somewhat of a different temperament.”

“It was.” Fortunately. Considering some of the events at past Talks, Sean had been quite pleased with how smoothly last year’s Talk had proceeded. A few pointed questions instead of malicious practical jokes or federal crimes coupled with invasion of privacy. The psychiatrist could handle that. “Occasionally, some of the students think that it’s a prize to ruffle my feathers and to take advantage of other students. They don’t ruffle my feathers, and they typically end up in detention for their efforts.” Particularly after the fiasco of 2011; Yvette, he knew, would never allow another situation like that to arise.

“Some people do; some people get their self-worth from acting out.” It was something that the psychiatrist simultaneously understood intellectually while trying to undo in practice. “It’s for the best to find more constructive methods of internal value.”

Sean had a swell of empathy for Calliope’s admission. As a teenager, his power had also been painful, although it had been migraines and headaches rather than joint pain. Learning to cope with side-effects was an underrated aspect of training at Hammel, but it was one of the areas for which he was most grateful. He still suffered from headaches, but they were nowhere near as intense, and he had a far higher pain threshold than he had possessed at the tender age of twelve. “I understand,” he said. “Painful side effects are very common.”

The rumors were true. However, Sean, Yvette, and the other faculty had agreed that it was for the best not to discuss those events with students who had not been present at the time. Given that all four of the offenders had graduated, and that this past Talk had gone smoothly, the choice of action had proven correct. As for her stammering, he offered her a patient smile, to show that he wasn’t offended. “I’m not scary,” he agreed. “But I do have a lot of authority.”

Sean’s expression was immediately sympathetic. Partially because that was how one interacted with people sharing their pains, if one had any sense of empathy, and partially because he identified with her; he had once been there, where she was, feeling that same sense of futility. “I’m sure that you hear this from adults all of the time, but it does get easier with time.”

The side effects would never completely disappear, but they would grow milder with age and experience. She would also undoubtedly develop the pain threshold necessary to cope, as well as whatever other skills and mechanisms that she required.

Of course, that did little for the here and now, but Sean had always taken comfort in that reassurance. Having anything in the future to which to look forward had made his pain more tolerable.

He then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Granted, the drills were for an indeterminate amount of time. However, he was willing to listen if she needed to vent.

Sean acknowledged that fact with a nod and a slight gesture with his hands. Authority could be frightening, and, in some ways, that was the purpose of wearing authority. As much as the psychiatrist didn’t like to flaunt it, he still preferred the guise of authority to a demonstration of raw power as a means of convincing students to behave. Power was more frightening than authority, and fear was always less desirable than respect or trust. “You’re right; it can be.”

But he didn’t bite. Even when he was generally displeased, he didn’t get angry or aggressive, which was for the best. If he was scary, he thought that he would be a poor mental health professional.

“It does,” he assured her again. The pains would never go away completely, but she would become better adapted to the side effects. While he didn’t often go into specifics about his time as a student, psychics tended to have similar powers, and thus if she knew one, she could guess his side effects. “The headaches got much easier for me, as years went by.”

The psychiatrist nodded again. “I empathize there. The winter isn’t kind on an old man’s joints either.” Which was one of the reasons that he did not shovel his own driveway, if it could be avoided. “Eventually your joints do go back, even after a half day or longer?”