this question. Evans forced a grin and moved out from behind the podium so he could get further away from the projector’s beam. Why was it so hard to exist in the middle? His mind raced as he sought out the most casual and composed manner for responding to this question in a way that might satisfy both concerns.
“This is where I believe I need to be sensitive to my patients’ needs. While ultimately I believe there is a logical and scientific explanation for every paranormal event a patient claims to have experienced, to them in the moment of experiencing such things, the paranormal is very real, and they are experiencing these things for a reason. I just want to get to that reason without forcing my own ideas upon them.
“You see, we are the product of our perceptions. For better or worse, how we see the world fundamentally shapes us. So if my patient truly believes they are the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper, there is a sense in which to them in that moment, it is true. So first I need to peel back the layers of what brings about this false perception. Then, and only then, I can help them deal with the source of this false perception.”
“Or simply introduce them to a new false perception,” the second questioner jumped in now.
Evans sighed. He knew her type. She was a pseudo-scientific new ager who spewed feel good bullshit to any moron willing to listen while she jumped from one new idea to the next. Down the road her type inevitably found that their lives were still hopelessly depressing compared to the unrealistically rosy picture they had in their minds of what their affluent first world lives informed by hipster materialism, horoscopes, meditation, and hippy therapists should be. An interesting breed for sure, but Evans wasn’t about to try to deconstruct that right now for these nine people.
“My goal is to help people,” he stood his ground, half hoping the woman caught the implications of what that statement inferred about her goals. “I don’t see how entertaining superstitions and delusions of grandeur brings healing to anyone.”
He could see the anger in the woman’s eyes. He glanced down at his watch and checked the time. “Well, I’ve already gone over my time,” he lied—but it wasn’t like he was about to sell any books today anyway. “Thank you all for being here this morning.”
Without any protest or complaint, everyone got up.
***
She’d snuck in to the bookstore and waited while Dr. Evans completed his talk. Nicole, now in a sleek black suit, her long light hair flowing past her shoulders, felt relieved to be back in the familiarity of her life as an agent. She wondered how much Anthony had picked up on her state of sheer boredom. There was only so much TV she could watch, only so long she could read a novel before becoming restless and actually missing reading case files, and there were only so many runs she could go on. It wasn’t that she longed for the tedious aspects of bureaucratic law enforcement. It was the frustrating sense of being stuck, unproductive. She could have visited her mother more. But she couldn’t stand the constant kind eyes of her mother watching her every move, wondering how she was, always seeking to talk over things again and again when all that Nicole really wanted was for life to get back to normal.
This felt more like it! A reason to put on a bit of makeup, a suit she hadn't worn in a month, and having something to investigate. She was, however, surprised to see Dr. Evans’s book signing so sparsely attended. She listened to the exchange between a couple of the audience members and Evans, smiling at Evans’s poise while being hassled from two sides. This was exactly why she was here.
Evans concluded the presentation. Mitchell watched as the nine scattered people got up. Some stretched, others headed off to peruse the shelves. She overhead one man say to another he was walking out with, “We should have just gone to brunch
“This is where I believe I need to be sensitive to my patients’ needs. While ultimately I believe there is a logical and scientific explanation for every paranormal event a patient claims to have experienced, to them in the moment of experiencing such things, the paranormal is very real, and they are experiencing these things for a reason. I just want to get to that reason without forcing my own ideas upon them.
“You see, we are the product of our perceptions. For better or worse, how we see the world fundamentally shapes us. So if my patient truly believes they are the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper, there is a sense in which to them in that moment, it is true. So first I need to peel back the layers of what brings about this false perception. Then, and only then, I can help them deal with the source of this false perception.”
“Or simply introduce them to a new false perception,” the second questioner jumped in now.
Evans sighed. He knew her type. She was a pseudo-scientific new ager who spewed feel good bullshit to any moron willing to listen while she jumped from one new idea to the next. Down the road her type inevitably found that their lives were still hopelessly depressing compared to the unrealistically rosy picture they had in their minds of what their affluent first world lives informed by hipster materialism, horoscopes, meditation, and hippy therapists should be. An interesting breed for sure, but Evans wasn’t about to try to deconstruct that right now for these nine people.
“My goal is to help people,” he stood his ground, half hoping the woman caught the implications of what that statement inferred about her goals. “I don’t see how entertaining superstitions and delusions of grandeur brings healing to anyone.”
He could see the anger in the woman’s eyes. He glanced down at his watch and checked the time. “Well, I’ve already gone over my time,” he lied—but it wasn’t like he was about to sell any books today anyway. “Thank you all for being here this morning.”
Without any protest or complaint, everyone got up.
***
She’d snuck in to the bookstore and waited while Dr. Evans completed his talk. Nicole, now in a sleek black suit, her long light hair flowing past her shoulders, felt relieved to be back in the familiarity of her life as an agent. She wondered how much Anthony had picked up on her state of sheer boredom. There was only so much TV she could watch, only so long she could read a novel before becoming restless and actually missing reading case files, and there were only so many runs she could go on. It wasn’t that she longed for the tedious aspects of bureaucratic law enforcement. It was the frustrating sense of being stuck, unproductive. She could have visited her mother more. But she couldn’t stand the constant kind eyes of her mother watching her every move, wondering how she was, always seeking to talk over things again and again when all that Nicole really wanted was for life to get back to normal.
This felt more like it! A reason to put on a bit of makeup, a suit she hadn't worn in a month, and having something to investigate. She was, however, surprised to see Dr. Evans’s book signing so sparsely attended. She listened to the exchange between a couple of the audience members and Evans, smiling at Evans’s poise while being hassled from two sides. This was exactly why she was here.
Evans concluded the presentation. Mitchell watched as the nine scattered people got up. Some stretched, others headed off to peruse the shelves. She overhead one man say to another he was walking out with, “We should have just gone to brunch
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