Mind Over Mind

by Karina L. Fabian

  Then, he saw Ydrel, in the distance, enveloped by the same gray clouds.

  Gradually, he changed the rhythm, rock, breathe, blink, rock, breathe, blink.

  Ydrel followed. Each motion of the new routine brought them a little closer until once again, Joshua could reach out and touch him. He knew he was ready.

  “So why are we doing this?” he asked causally.

  “It’s comfortable.”

  “Maybe for you.”

  Ydrel blinked, out of turn. “It’s safe.”

  “Ydrel,” Joshua reached out, gripped his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

  Ydrel stopped rocking.

  Suddenly, the gray clouds were gone and Joshua was once again aware of the surrounding: the hard cold walls, the flattened cushion beneath him, the incredible ache in his sides. Ydrel blinked, disoriented, then focused on Joshua. Tears filled his eyes and he threw himself sobbing into the intern’s arms.

  “Joshua, I tried! I swear, I tried! But they made me go in—couldn’t find the line—and he was so mad. Angry at you, you were interfering. And I got mad, but it wasn’t me, it was him and he wanted to kill someone and I couldn’t let him feel like that. I’d feel it and I could do it—with a thought. Just a thought! I couldn’t let it happen over again. If he’d just have taken one pill, just given me a chance to breathe. He made me want to kill. I ran. I di-didn’t know what else to do!” He continued to babble incoherently while Joshua held him, murmuring reassurances. When at last, his cries turned to hiccups, Joshua pushed him away enough to see his face.

  “Ydrel, look at me,” he spoke gently as if to a child. “We’re going to fix this right now, the two of us, OK? Look around. This room is ours for as long as we need it. No one is going to interrupt us, and you don’t have to be near another human being except me until you’ve got your defenses in place and you feel strong enough to face others.”

  Ydrel sniffed and glanced around. “This is an observation room.”

  “Screw it,” Joshua replied rudely. “You’ve been living in a fishbowl for five years. This way’s just more honest. Now, if you want to wow your audience, you prove to them that you can solve this problem on your own with just some advice from a friend. OK?”

  “But Malachai—”

  “—is not in this room. One thing at a time. All right?” Ydrel nodded. “All right. Will you be OK for a few minutes before we start? ‘Cause I don’t know about you, but my muscles are getting cramped. I need to stretch.” As he spoke, he uncrossed his legs—it was more difficult than he’d expected—and moved his protesting body into a series of basic stretches, moving slowly in deference to the ache in his muscles and the dizziness in his head.

  Ydrel replied, “I’ve still got my ground. That’s all that’s kept me from losing myself.” He stood easily, bent forward, and touched his forehead to his knees. Then he bent the other way in a lazy back-walkover.

  “Show-off. So what’d you do with the energy from your ground?” Joshua crossed his legs, one foot flat on the floor against the opposite knee, braced his arm on the bent leg and twisted. The stretch along his lats felt both painful and oh, so good.

  “What do you mean, energy I got? I thought I was supposed to use the ground to shunt energy.”

  “Works both ways, remember? The earth is full of energy—heat energy, magnetic energy, living energy—so you should just be able to tap into it, right? Why don’t you try it now?” Joshua changed legs and twisted in the other direction. He hissed as the stitch in his side twinged, then resolved.

  Ydrel, meanwhile, settled into an armchair and closed his eyes in concentration. A moment later, he frowned and opened one eye to regard his friend. “Why didn’t you tell me I could take in energy through my ground?”

  “Well, really, let’s see,” he answered with annoyance. “I had about forty-five minutes. I had to find you. Talk you out of a tree. Watch you do a great Darth Maul imitation—”

  “Darth who?”

  “You are so missing out. Are you tapped in yet, or do you want to waste more time discussing movies?”

  Ydrel growled but closed his eyes again.

  Minutes passed in silence. Joshua finished his stretches and, feeling sore but better, replaced the cushions on the couch and lay on it. He was sure he looked totally unprofessional, but he didn’t want to sit again anytime soon. Besides, he thought tartly, I’m just the intern. I don’t practice psychology unchaperoned.

  Nonetheless, if he didn’t want Ydrel to be thinking about who might be looking on, he’d better not either. So he relaxed into the comfortable couch and ran through the notes and settings of the song Rique had sent him Saturday, working out the fingerings on an imaginary keyboard.

  Ydrel made a sound of disgust and opened his eyes. “This isn’t working. I don’t know what I’m supposed to search for. I could be right on top of it and not even know,” he complained.

  Joshua lowered his hands, but otherwise didn’t move. “Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. The books always talk about energy having a flavor or color or something…?” Ydrel shook his head. “All right, let’s try a human analogy. You’ve said you can read some people more easily than others, right? And there are some you can’t read at all? Good. Here’s what I want you to do: pick one person on each end of the spectrum. Then think about the differences between them. Psychically, I mean.”

  “That’s easy. One bombards me with images and feelings and thoughts. The other, nothing. It’s like being around a wall.”

  “That’s a start. Think again about the first person, the sender. Can you focus through all the sights and sounds and emotion to the—I don’t know—the aura or energy underneath?” Ydrel’s brow furrowed in concentration, and Joshua turned onto his side so he could watch his eyes. The pupils contracted, as he expected. They moved one way, then the other, as he psychically accessed (and, Joshua suspected, discarded) first sight, then sound, memory, then thought. Finally, Ydrel smiled, bemused.

  “Wow. There is something there, something…more. That’s kind of cool.”

  “Good. Good job. Now see if you can find a similar kind of more right in the earth.”

  After a few moments, Ydrel laughed. “It’s all over. It’s different—I can’t explain how—but it’s there. So how do I take it in?” Joshua thought for a moment. “Is your memory just photographic?”

  “Why?”

  “You told me once that your mom healed your hand with just a touch. Assuming she didn’t use a psychic band-aid, she must have transferred the energy. See if you can remember.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Then we think of something else.” Joshua let his head get heavy on the couch cushion, glad he was facing away from the mirror. He didn’t think he would move for a week. He wasn’t sure he could at the moment. He might throw up. Maybe he should have listened to Sachiko and waited.

  I’m fine. Besides, I did it. Now all I need to do is sit and talk and wait. And the couch is plenty comfortable.

  “All right.” Ydrel’s voice woke him from a doze he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. “I figured that out. Now what?”

  Joshua’s thoughts felt like sludge. He sat up lest he fall asleep again, but refrained from shaking his head. “Defenses?”

  “Yeah. E=mc2. Build my walls again.”

  He again settled into concentration, and Joshua settled to wait. Joshua did some more stretches, ran over the songs, and was just starting to wonder what he should do about dinner when Ydrel let out a great, relieved sigh. “That feels so much better, better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

  “Got your old defenses back in place? Then, we’re not done yet, but we could take a breather. Hungry? What say I poke my head out the door and order us some chow? You just stay there and take five.”

  He went out the regular entrance. Dr. Hoffman, who must still have been observing, was waiting for him. “That was the singularly most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” he said after Joshua shut the door.

  Joshu
a tried not to grin too widely; it helped that his face was starting to hurt again. “Thanks. We’re not done yet. Can we get some dinner, and maybe a bunch of munchies and drinks? Nothing too heavy, though,” he added as his stomach gave an unexpected twist at the thought of food.

  “What else do you have to do? He seems fine—well, fine for Deryl.”

  “Ydrel’s big complaint is that he can’t keep up his defenses against the onslaught of thoughts and emotions around him—”

  “C’mon, Joshua. You’re not buying into his ‘I’m psychic’ psychosis?”

  “It doesn’t matter. That’s his reality, and it’s preventing him from interacting with what the majority consider reality. Today, he couldn’t even cope. All I’m doing is helping him acquire the tools in his reality that will let him live in ours.”

  “And once he’s better able to cope, we work on his delusions?”

  “Once he’s able to cope, there won’t be any need. I’d better get back in there,” Joshua started before Dr. Hoffman could argue. “Could you get someone to bring us some food?”

  The older psychiatrist smiled. “Sure. Light main course and lots of munchies and things to drink. You like Diet Coke, I recall?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I’ll probably need the caffeine.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Are you going to lie on that couch all day?” Ydrel glared at Joshua’s prone form with irritation. He knew Joshua was tired and his head hurt, but he also knew the intern was posing for their audience. See? Psychology doesn’t have to be hard…

  “Depends on you,” the intern replied laconically. “We’re here until you’re ready to leave. Until then, we might as well be comfortable.” He reached for his bottle of Diet Coke, peered inside with a half frown before swallowing down the last dregs. “Hand me another one, please?”

  “You’re comfortable. I’m working.” But Ydrel got up and went to the table along the wall where sodas and bottles of water shared the space with plates of food. He grabbed a soda, gave it a shake, then tossed it to Joshua.

  “Funny.” Josh twisted the cap until it fizzed just enough to let out the extra air. “You found that sky-borne ley line yet?”

  Ydrel sat back down in his chair and crossed his legs. “I was working on it when you sent me to fetch your soda.”

  “You were griping about me lying down when I asked you if you’d hand me one. Figured you were looking for a breather.”

  “It’s not easy, inside,” Ydrel groused. “I can’t see it.”

  Joshua sighed. “We can take this outside if you want, but you can’t live in the Great Outdoors forever. You need to be able to find it indoors as well. Can’t you hear it, or feel it?”

  Ydrel leaned against the back of the chair. “I tried. There’s too much noise. It’s like swimming though mud. You can imagine what that’s like, Mr. Sinks-Like-A-Stone.” It was another tidbit he shouldn’t have known about Joshua (he’d picked it up from Sachiko’s mind), and a low blow besides, but the intern didn’t rise to the bait.

  “If I were drowning, I’d give it my best shot.” He started playing some song on his imaginary keyboard.

  “Fine.” Ydrel leaned forward, elbows on knees, his fingers digging through his hair. He wasn’t quite drowning anymore. The food had helped; the time “away” had helped; knowing Joshua was going to stay with him until they figured this out helped, too.

  So had Joshua’s idea of the ground and of letting things shunt through him. Now, however, he was finding that he had to get through that to sense anything beyond. It was like swimming through mud, but mud with a swift and dangerous undertow. He let out a nervous sigh.

  Then he felt Joshua’s attention on him, felt him wishing he could see Ydrel’s eyes. Ydrel didn’t understand NLP theory, but he knew Joshua took a lot of cues from eye movements and posture.

  He’d know if I was drowning. He’d come after me. The thought strengthened Ydrel, and he sat back and let himself wade, then swim, through the wild, stormy sea of thoughts and emotions that threatened to overtake him. They terrified him, ate at his fragile defenses like water against sand, but he pushed on. If he stopped he’d drown, and he didn’t think even the Great Joshua Lawson would be able to bring him back.

  Suddenly, he was no longer swimming but floating, surrounded by a dazzling clear light and exquisite silence that almost seemed to sing. All around him, he could—feel? Taste? He had no words. But whatever it was, it was there, refreshing him, filling him with a wonderful sense of power he’d never before experienced. A laugh escaped his throat.

  “Found it?” Joshua prompted.

  “It’s…wow…” Ydrel squirmed in his chair and giggled. He felt so happy and excited, like he had that Christmas when he was five and he and his mom had gone to his uncle’s and aunt’s house and he knew he’d get some great loot. “This is so cool! There’s so much, and you were right: there is a…a flavor or color or something to it. It’s definitely different from what I got through the ground. So, what do I do with it now that I’ve found it?”

  “Only three things to do with energy: use it, store it, or leave it alone. What do you want to do?”

  “Shields, I guess. But what do I do?”

  “I’m not the military strategist; you are. Why don’t you take all that learning you’ve been passing on the Tasmae-nian She-Devil and use it for your own benefit for a change? Analyze the attacks; decide how you can defend against them, and build your defenses.”

  Ydrel closed his eyes and thought about the effect of people around him, how they wore away at his shields like an acid rain, or more like acid waves, and how a particularly strong attack battered through. It was painful; even as he thought about it, he could feel his barriers giving way.

  Then, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ydrel, these are memories, right? You don’t need to relive them, just examine them from a distance. Try putting them in a book and read them, or lay them out like you’re analyzing a battle plan or something. Give me a report.”

  Speaking as dispassionately as he could, eyes still shut, Ydrel told him how the psychic emanations attacked his defenses.

  “Good. It sounds like you have three different kinds of attack: the steady wearing down of your defenses by the everyday emanations of people around you—sort of like psychic white noise—the pounding attacks of blunt emotions, and the point attacks of specific impressions or memories. Sound right?”

  “You sure you aren’t a strategist?”

  “Nah. Mom taught me how to summarize well, is all. Tell me what’s wrong with your defenses in light of this analysis?”

  Now that they had actually looked at it, the answer was clear. “I’ve got one single defense against multiple levels of attack, and no means to shore myself up as I’m worn down. I need to build multiple defenses with diversified materials and strategies, set up fallback positions, maybe have ready reserves of energy to build up my shields on the fly. I—I don’t know if I can do all that.”

  “Why not? You’ve got a greatly enhanced source of energy, a safe haven for as long as you need it, and me to bounce ideas off of. If you need something more, let me know and I’ll try to get it.”

  Ydrel opened his eyes and saw that the intern—his friend—was totally sincere. He also noticed the bruise on Joshua’s face. Had Joshua gotten that rescuing him? He felt his eyes sting and mist. He pressed his knuckles into them hard.

  “You OK?” Joshua asked softly.

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I just, I’ve never had a friend like you before. No one’s ever…”

  Joshua shrugged it off. “You’ll pay me back sometime. I get the impression the wall you have is a small, brick-type one, like around your mind or something?” Ydrel nodded. “Well, there are a lot of ways to think, not just with your mind. Some people think more with their bodies—you’ve heard of gut feelings, right?—and others with their emotions, which are as much tied into the nervous system of the body as the hypothalamus and limbic system. I’ll
bet you’re getting a lot of ‘Left Hook’ attacks through your body. Why don’t you work on building a personal shield that surrounds your body like a second skin or an aura—maybe an anti-aura, actually.”

  Ydrel spent the next couple of hours alternately eating and working. First, he created an ever-present shield of dull, impression-absorbing energy, which would capture the outside impressions and shunt them away through his ground. Things were muffled but still present, like the sound of rain on a thinly insulated roof. He tried making the shield stronger, but it blocked everything; for a moment, it was blessedly still, then he felt disoriented and scared. Everything seemed wrong, flat. Joshua stared at him with an expression he couldn’t define, and when he spoke, his voice, though full of inflection, was oddly emotionless.

  “Ydrel, are you all right?”

  Hastily, Ydrel cut back the shield’s strength. Color and impression returned. He found he was gasping with relief. He could now see Joshua’s brow was furrowed with worry. He told him what happened. “It was like suddenly being blind or deaf or something. For a minute, I wasn’t even sure that you were you. I mean, it looked like you, but I couldn’t be sure. It was weird.”

  “Interesting. That’s an important lesson: you don’t want to completely shield yourself from what’s around you because you depend on it to recognize people. So how are you going to handle that?”

  “I guess I need some kind of…radar screen to let me sense what’s around me, and a way to determine what to let in and what to shield against. But how in the world can I do that?”

  “That, I can help with.” Joshua taught him about the “control room,” a sanctuary inside his mind where he could have internal dialogues with himself. He taught him how to access his creative subconscious, set it to work on a task—in this case, his radar screen—and give it a way to signal him if it had ideas. He followed Joshua’s instructions. Then, with his subconscious working the radar issue, he set to work again on his defenses, building up several types of shields. Some, he would wear all the time. Others, he could call up in a hurry.