TR: Future Plans (Lucy and Sean)

Even with some of Lucy’s less than stellar qualities, she was hardly the least pleasant student to cross Sean’s path. Some were actively hostile to him, far beyond adolescent moodiness or defense mechanisms. Others were resentful of spending time in his office and greeted him with complete silence. Others were Vincent Verax, someone whom the psychiatrist was rarely glad to see, even if he had far greater tolerance for his antics than many of the other staff.

Even those who failed to bring sunshine to the psychiatrist’s days were entitled to the same amount of assistance and care as Sean’s protégés. He never turned anyone away. Even if he couldn’t tend to them at that precise moment.

Thus, when the door opened and a voice called out, mere seconds before a presence was in his doorway, the psychiatrist turned to face her. He held up one finger to request that she wait a moment, drawing attention to the telephone in his other hand. Fortunately, the telephone call was almost finished, and it was with someone who didn’t require confidentiality.

Instead, he was speaking to a colleague about the soon to be released DSM-V.

Lucy, you can take a seat; this won’t take more than another couple of minutes. He projected to her, since his telepathy was hardly a secret, and there was no sense in having her stand when she could be more comfortable.

Sean nodded a single time, both to acknowledge her mental projection, as well as to confirm that, yes, this was how having a mental conversation with a telepath typically worked. He took no offense to her other thoughts, the ones that contained discomfort and less than flattering descriptions of his abilities. As a telepath, Sean was used to that; he wouldn’t have survived his first time at Hammel, let alone the many decades of adulthood, if he couldn’t cope with such thoughts. Even if, ideally, he wanted to cultivate a world without anti-psychic bias.

The psychiatrist remained on the telephone for a couple of additional minutes, before his conversation came to its conclusion. Then he hung up, made a quick note to himself, and then turned his full attention to Lucy. “I apologize for the delay,” he told her sincerely, as he rose to his feet and crossed the room.

Sitting down in the armchair close to her, he added, “That should be the only interruption.” Which meant that she would have his undivided attention for as long as she required it. “What can I help you with?”

He had an idea, of course. Graduation loomed ever nearer on the horizon, and that was a major change in the lives of all teenagers, but particularly for Hammel students. Life at Hammel was unlike life in any other part of the United States.

As a young man, Sean had known precisely what he would do with his life; there had never been other options, because there had been the expectations of his family. He would become a doctor, like his father before him had. However, his interests had been psychology, and his telepathy was an asset; thus, he had been off to study the pre-medical track in college, followed by psychiatry as his specialty goal in medical school.

Marriage and children had also been on the list of expectations, although life didn’t always follow plans to the letter.

Despite his experiences, the psychiatrist had great empathy for others whose life plans were not as concrete as his had been.

“Confusion is to be expected,” he told her, and then gestured at the nearby armchair. “And why don’t you make yourself comfortable while we talk? There’s no reason that you have to stand.”

Of course, he wouldn’t make her sit down, if she truly desired to remain on her feet.

As for the underlying question contained her remark, Sean chose to answer that with a question of his own, one designed to focus her thoughts on something pleasant as opposed to the near limitless possibilities. “What do you want to do as an adult? If you could do anything, what would you choose?”

Sean expression was sympathetic, and he asked her, “Do you want to stand or pace?” He wouldn’t consider it rude if she chose not to sit, since this wasn’t a disciplinary session. His goal with these meetings was for the student to feel as comfortable as possible, and if she wished to remain standing, or wished to move around, the psychiatrist would take no offense.

At the question of a pen, the psychiatrist reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled one out. He extended it towards her, inviting her to use it as she wished.

“Does nothing come to mind at all?” He inquired, tilting his head slightly to the side as he focused his full attention on her. “Anything at all. It doesn’t have to be practical, and I won’t judge you if it isn’t.”

Considering that one of his prior students had come from a traveling circus and had returned to it after graduation, he believed there was little that he had not already heard. More than that, Sean didn’t believe in judging people for their ambitions, as long as those ambitions weren’t inherently harmful to others or to themselves.

Anything that she said would be a starting point, would give them a direction for the conversation.

Since she didn’t want to sit, Sean wouldn’t make her do so. He didn’t consider it disrespectful for her to stand, and her doing so caused no harm. Likewise, he wanted to give her space, and thus once he had handed over the pen, he returned to his chair and made himself comfortable.

“Hammel can’t get you citizenship, no,” the psychiatrist admitted. While the school received government backing and they had a talented staff with government ties, certain miracles couldn’t be performed without assistance. However... “But Hammel can get you visas as needed, either for work or for education, if that’s what you wanted to do.”

That was true. Hammel had done so for past graduates before, and there was no reason that they would refuse to do so for her as well. It would be rather cruel to deport her, even if she had a safe place to go in her country of origin, as soon as she graduated. “So, it does matter, because we have resources at your disposal to help you achieve what you want to do.”

The psychiatrist clasped his hands before him. “That brings us back to the initial question. What do you want to do, if there weren’t any barriers?”

“It is something to keep in mind,” Sean replied, as he met her eyes. Having proper immigration paperwork made life far easier as someone who wasn’t Native-born in this country. Hammel had enough international students to have the necessary pull.

“I didn’t say it was odd,” the psychiatrist replied. Since she was showing signs of exasperation, he moved his hands from his lap and crossed his arms over his chest. Not judgmental but to show that he did not intend to patronize her with the questions. “I simply want to help you, because our society isn’t particularly kind to people who don’t have a sense of direction.”

Sean had no control over the course of sociopolitical development in the United States or elsewhere. If he did, the United States would more closely resemble The Netherlands or Iceland, but with far greater heterogeneity and broad widespread of those differences. Since he had no such influence, all he could do was try to prepare students for life outside of Hammel.

“Do you want to talk about why you don’t want to go home?” His question was gentle. He was more than willing to discuss her family life, if that was what she wanted to do. However, despite his status as a psychiatrist, he wasn’t going to pry. Their meeting hadn’t been initially intended for the purpose of discussing her family and thus, while it was topical, he believed that the proverbial ball was in her court for this.