Wonderland

[Jervis Tetch]

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked.
'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'



Jervis fiddled with a set of tiny screwdrivers, finally selecting one and holding it between his index finger and thumb. He narrowed his eyes at it, then set to work screwing a small component into the base of the cognitive resequencer. In theory, once completed, the device, which looked rather like a giant spider perched on top of a metal headband, would be able to alter a person's neural substrates.

Alter them in such a way as to influence emotions or cognitive ability. It would, in theory of course, be able to cure depression. The mice who'd tested it certainly had seemed happier. Or more sad, depending on what was manipulated. Watching small rodents starve to death because they were too depressed to move had been quite... depressing. Jervis had needed an extra session with his therapist after that experiment.

However, it had been a proof of concept and had gotten him a nice space in Applied Science to continue to work on it. He looked up briefly at the plexiglass cage which faced him. It housed an albino rabbit, its pink eyes staring into the middle distance as it chewed it's food, contemplating rabbity things. It was the only test subject he'd kept, and his colleagues were good natured about keeping it around even though he was beyond the small animal testing phase.

His screwdriver slipped off the head of the screw, and he bent his head back down, concentrating as he went back to work.

[Jonathan Crane]

“Doctor Tetch?”

A young woman in a white coat stood in the doorway to the laboratory. Her eyes shifted between the device that Jervis was hunched over and the white rabbit. It was snuffling its pink nose at the window of its cage.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, Doctor Tetch. I would have come earlier but you looked so busy and, well - I should have said something sooner -”

She pursued her lips, fighting the urge to say what she was about to say.

“You're going to be late. For your important appointment with Doctor Crane.”

[Jervis Tetch]

Jervis looked up at the lab assistant, bemused until she finished her sentence. He stood up abruptly, knocking his knees on the underside of the table and sitting back down just as quickly. "Shit! I mean, thank you!"

He replaced the screwdriver in it's little plastic case, but managed to upset the container and send all the small tools scattering across the table. "Shit!" He looked up, and found that the girl had already abandoned the doorway. Jervis took a deep breath, calmed himself, and carefully picked up the prototype and walked it over to the secure wall safe where it was kept. He forced himself to take the extra second to make sure everything was secure, then he grabbed his coat and ran out of the lab.

Fifteen minutes later he was at Dr. Crane's office, sweating and dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief as he breathlessly introduced himself to the receptionist. "Dr. Tetch, to see Dr. Crane. I'm late, I'm sorry, I lost track of the time."

[Jonathan Crane]

The receptionist smiled and gestured towards the door to Doctor Crane's office.

Inside, Crane's office was much as it had been four weeks ago – at the time of Jervis's last appointment. A couch and two armchairs circled a low coffee table, whilst two walls were dominated by large bookshelves, all of it lit with faint warmth from the afternoon sun. Doctor Crane had no desk to speak of, instead seating himself in one of the armchairs with a tablet computer in one thin hand. He set smiled coolly as Jervis entered, not in the least bothered by or surprised to see the faint sheen of sweat on the man's brow. He had clients who had turned up in worse states.

“Hello, Jervis. I'm glad you could make it.”

[Jervis Tetch]

Jervis collapsed onto the couch. "No time to say hello," he muttered, and then forced a smile. "I'm late. I'm late." His head twitched a bit to the side, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I apologize, my old coping mechanisms surface from time to time when I get flustered." Jervis opened his eyes and said carefully, "Hello, Doctor Crane. I hope I am not too... tardy."

[Jonathan Crane]

“No, not at all – and remember: no apologies here, Jervis. You've nothing to apologise to me for.”

Crane smiled again. It was an expression that he wore with difficulty, but given the company he kept, a few social eccentricities and anxieties of his own were hardly consequential. Crane shifted a little in his armchair, adjusting his posture so that he was facing the couch Jervis had so gracelessly flopped onto.

“It's been almost a month since we last met. How have you been feeling?”

[Jervis Tetch]

"I have been coping," Jervis said finally, after taking another moment to calm his heart rate. "I haven't had... I haven't been dreaming. Whatever pills those were you gave me have worked great. No dreams at all, especially not ...The Dream."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and sat back into the couch, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. He adjusted his cravat, loosening it until he exposed the thin scar that ran across his throat - the reason, in fact, that he wore such cumbersome fashion accessories in the first place. Making up stories about throat surgery was not something he liked to do with strangers on the street. Besides, quite often one would joke that it looked like his doctor had been trying to kill him.

Which she had been. His mother, that was, not some fictitious M.D.

[Jonathan Crane]

As Jervis spoke, Jonathan periodically tapped at the screen of his table. A short silence held between them and Doctor Crane narrowed his eyes faintly.

"That's interesting, but... something tells me that you're not entirely... comfortable with the effect that the medication has had on you."

[Jervis Tetch]

Wasn't he? Jervis thought for a moment. "Well, it does leave me... somewhat... I sometimes feel like a shell. Like I'm just watching myself go through my day. But that doesn't happen all the time." He shrugged. "A small price to pay."