“I want to be clear, Natalie: are you saying that you’re having sex with this man more often than the Code dictates unless pair-bonded?” Nona asked, fidgeting slightly.
Natalie nodded, red curls bobbing.
“Sometimes. The sex is good, but that’s not why I seek out his company. I can’t
find the words to ...”
Puzzled, Nona stopped listening.
Was Natalie trying to say the sex was not good enough to pair-bond? If that
were the case, any Mental Health Practitioner would know how to remedy it. If
Natalie’s actions weren’t against Mall’s Code, Nona would interrupt and tell
her. Surprisingly, this restriction pressed on her in an unfamiliar manner, a
physical pressure in the area just above her stomach, like the sting she
sometimes felt when she adminned a dart. But relief would have to wait.
Natalie’s voice dropped again to
almost a whisper. “You won’t tell, will you? That we have sex secretly? Or that
we meet to talk in one of our quarters?”
Nona’s interest quickened. “No,
anything you say in here is protected by client/patient confidentiality. May I
ask why you meet in your rooms when that also is expressly forbidden?”
“Are you sure you won’t reveal anything I say to you?”
“Yes. Please know, Natalie, that
even if I wanted to, Mental Health Practitioners cannot.”
“We meet, well, to talk about what he believes is wrong with Mall.” She paused to search
Nona’s face. “Okay, I’ll tell you the part that you can never tell: he’s a
Junker.”
The confession stunned Nona into
silence. Never before had any of her clients divulged such a shocking fact.
Before she could speak, as suddenly as it had been happening so often in the
last few weeks, the lights went out. “I do apologize. You probably have also
experienced this annoying event too many times. Usually the lights go...” Light
flooded the room at that moment. “See, no harm done, and I will add two extra
minutes to your session.” Nona inched up in her chair to look more closely at
Natalie. “I confess that I am taken aback by your admission that you’ve been
meeting with a Junker. Of course, I will not reveal this, but I can’t
understand why. We all know that Junkers are causing the disturbances occurring
throughout Mall. How do you feel about pursuing this strange relationship with
someone who belongs to this group?”
“I admit I find it troubling. But
not so much that ... Oh I don’t know what to do!” She wrung her hands and
lowered her head.
Nona was at a loss. Most of her clients
wanted to revitalize all kinds of things, from virtual reality rock climbing to
interactive story creation and, most often, sexual experiences. Except for
Natalie, the complaint was the same for everyone: the experience lacked
novelty, and the client wanted to rekindle the thrill. And strange, wasn’t it,
that the boredom Nona felt when she listened to the repetitive and stale
grievances was for her a symptom of the same problem? The only subject she did
find interesting was clients’ fear of death, but most refused to discuss it in
much detail. All she had to go on was body language—those subtle, involuntary
physiological effects revealing intense discomfort. If only she could persuade
them to go into detail, but that, too, would be against the Code. Never
insist that someone talk about a subject that would make the speaker
uncomfortable, and that even included Mental Health Practitioners. She
certainly did not feel bored with Natalie. Excited and, yes, a little scared.
Not only did Natalie know a Junker, she had a relationship with him. What
should she do? She wished she could discuss with her colleague and former
pair-bond, Royce.
!2
Suddenly, the entry gong sounded,
startling her out of her train of thoughts. Natalie gasped, rising from her
chair. “God of Reincarnation, am I in trouble?” She fell back into her chair
when the door slid open and a black-and-silver uniformed man strode in.
“Pardon me, may I ask why you are
here?” Nona asked, stepping back. She seldom encountered a Finance Policeman.
“Your presence is required soon at
a Mall Management meeting,” he announced in a deep, authoritarian voice.
“Please excuse me. I am
confused—why me? Mental Health Practitioners never attend those meetings.”
“They do not inform me about the
subject of their meetings. Even if I did know, I would not divulge it.”
“Yes, of course,” she hastened to
reassure him. “I have never been to Level 100, so please, can you tell me when
and where to go?”
“Not necessary. I will return and
accompany you at the appointed time.” He spun around and out the door.
Natalie sighed audibly. “Oh, God of
Reincarnation, I thought somehow you had alerted the Finance Police about my
code violation.”
“No, as I said, I would not and
cannot. Please continue.”
“I wonder what the meeting will be
about.” Natalie looked over at the door. “I’m afraid for my friend ...”
Nona interrupted. “Please excuse me for cutting in. You said
friend. Do you have a heart- friend contract with him?”
“No—I would, but he refuses because…I don’t think I want to
talk about this anymore.”
Nona quashed the desire to try to persuade her. “Do you have
anything else to discuss? Our meeting is drawing to a close.”
“Sort of. At work, Delta stole one of my ideas. I planned on
letting Stan know because I earned the extra credit …”
Again Nona’s attention veered away. What was this
meeting she was summoned to? Was it about the disturbances? Just the other day
her office went dark twice, both times during sessions, and one of the
blackouts lasted a half hour. The next words out of Natalie’s mouth snagged her
attention.
“Delta must have heard or seen him enter my quarters. She
red-mailed me into keeping silent about her creative theft in trade for her not
revealing that Code violation. To make it worse, she overheard him tell me
before entering my room the date for the Junker’s next meeting. He wanted me to
attend.”
Nona shifted in her seat. What should she do? How could she
help her? “I, as your Mental Health Practitioner, would not want you to take
such a risk. If you are experiencing curiosity, I can prescribe something that
will eliminate that undesirable feeling—have you heard of the new pharm,
Freedomfrum?” Before she could stop herself, Nona asked, “Did your friend tell
you where the meeting would be?”
“Thank you for the offer of the pharm prescription. I really
don’t need it. It’s not exactly curiosity. I just can’t explain it. I do have
an idea where they’ll meet: somewhere on one of the lower Levels.” She raised
her head abruptly. “Why do you want to know?”
Why was a good question. Was it because she wanted to
be a proper Mallite and report this meeting? No, that wasn’t it. She couldn’t,
anyway. Did she want to meet a Junker? Was that what she really wanted? No one
knew who they were or where they met. What was this unusual tenseness she was
feeling? Strangely, it was not unpleasant. The chance to talk with a Junker
excited her—that was it—a feeling she had not experienced for a very long time.
Before Nona could answer, an alert gong sounded, followed by
a loud voice announcing, “Mall Emergency! You are the MHP on call. Guards will
contact you in thirty seconds.” Nona stood abruptly and said, “Please excuse
me, Natalie; it would be best if you left at once. We can schedule another
appointment later.”
“Oh, God of Reincarnation, a Mall Emergency! I’ll leave
immediately,” Natalie said, voice shaking. She scurried to the opening door and
hurried out.
