Chapter 2: Adjustments
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This... "Psychiatrist" that had entered my room had proven to be quite problematic for me from the moment he entered my visual range. The memories of Taylor explained the concept of his occupation to me; while regular doctors exist to assist individuals with their physical health, these medical professionals existed to assist individuals with their mental health. What limited memories I had from the Thinker suggested that no other species that we had ever encountered had possessed such a profession. Odd, now that I had the chance to think about it; caring for the mental health of individuals seemed very efficient for proper societal function, so it made no sense for those other civilizations to not nurture such concepts. One thing that these primates managed to do correctly, I supposed.
As much as I could appreciate the idea of a psychiatrist, though, actually dealing with one at this moment was likely to be a challenge. He had been sent here to evaluate my mental health; no, rather he had been sent here to evaluate the mental health of Taylor, to ensure that the bullying incident had not caused irreversible damage to her psyche.
The bullying, of course, had not caused any such irreversible damage. On the other hand, my merging with her, well...
I doubted that the psychiatrist had the knowledge or cognitive capabilities to recognize my true nature, so I was not overly concerned with that sort of possible outcome. What I was worried about was the potential of being clinically classified in some sort of negative manner, which would create unnecessary obstacles for me to overcome in order to return to normal, human life. Dealing with such issues would be... Inefficient, to say the least. As the psychiatrist sat himself on a piece of furniture next to my medical bed, I rapidly began considering the best words to use in order to convince him of my mental stability.
"Good evening, Taylor. I'm Doctor King, and I'm here to talk to you for a little bit. I won't take up too much of your time, though, and I'll let you get to bed soon enough." The man smiled underneath a large outgrowth of hair on his face; I began considering the efficiency of such a physical accessory, but I quickly turned my attention to formulating a proper response for his greeting. I endeavored to use as few words as possible, lest I accidentally allow an improper phrase slip out.
"Good evening, Doctor King." There. I assumed that something simple like that would be benign and inoffensive enough. The fact that the expression on the face of the psychiatrist did not falter suggested that my assessment was correct.
Unfortunately, though, the doctor frowned soon enough, as he looked at something on my face. Had I left one of my transformations intact?! The nurse had not said anything, but maybe she simply did not notice - the fool - and the King man was now noticing it! "Taylor." No... No, his voice was gentle, caring. It was a practiced tone of voice, though. Not quite artificial, but... Trained. I supposed, in retrospect, that his chosen profession required the ability to instantly become sympathetic towards individuals in need of mental assistance. "I see that you've been crying. Would you be okay telling me what that was about?"
Crying? Ah, that was the word for the release of moisture from the visual organs. Memories belonging to the Thinker suggested that many species had many different ways to express the emotion of sadness, and I supposed that "crying" was the way that humans did so. Damn this body either way, though, and damn Taylor Hebert for having had that moment of emotional weakness and for putting me into this situation. I delved deep into the memories that belonged to Taylor Hebert, now, in order to find a proper answer to the inquiry the psychiatrist had presented me with. "I was remembering my mother." I replicated the frown I had seen on the face of the psychiatrist; unfortunately, I also began to feel the emotion of grief that belonged to Taylor welling up inside of me. Pushing that feeling down, I refocused on getting past this interaction with the doctor. "She died in an automobile collision a few years ago. She also used to create lasagna for me to sustain myself with." Damn it, the look on the face of the man in front of me suggested that I was speaking oddly. Too many words, too much to say, too many chances to slip up like that. I had to finish up, though. "I was provided with lasagna to eat by the nurse-" Yes, eat. That is a better word, a word that humans use during interpersonal dialogue. A more efficient word than "sustain" as well, I supposed. "-and eating the lasagna reminded me of my mother. When I remembered my mother, I felt sad, and so I cried. I am no longer grieving, however."
The King man gave a nod, and... Wait, King? Was this man a ruler? No. The memories of my host told me that it was a familial name that some individuals had taken. Odd to name yourself as a ruler. Pretentious, even. Wait, "pretentious"? That was a good word. Complex, layered, and deep in meaning. As inefficient as they seemed, the primates had many good qualities to them.
Wait, no, Doctor King was speaking again. I had to pay attention. I could not afford such meaningless distractions, as pleasurable as they may have been to indulge in. Language was so fascinating, especially for a Shard such as myself, but... No. I had to focus on my goal, on my objective, on my mission.
The psychiatrist began to communicate with me once again. "Mmm." Another sound devoid of semantic meaning. These damnable primates...! Wait, no. I had to consider that noise further. The Thinker herself would not dismiss the strange behaviors of a native species out of hand like that, and so neither should I; everything they did meant something to them, even if it was not immediately obvious. The sound did indeed have no semantic meaning, but there was... Something to it. There was meaning, but not linguistic meaning. That noise meant something to humans who made it and humans who heard it, even if it was not an easily apparent meaning. Odd. I continued paying attention to Doctor King, though, before I could be distracted yet again. "I'm glad that you managed to work your way through that outburst of grief so quickly, Taylor." He was repeating the name of my host repeatedly, to better establish an emotional connection. Efficient. Clever, even. This human was very respectable. "But I want to make sure that you did work through it. Are you okay with being reminded of your mother like that, Taylor?"
Confusing. I had told him that I was no longer grieving, and yet he implied that I might still be grieving. Was he accusing me of stating falsehoods? Had he not heard or understood my original answer, and was he presenting his inquiry again for clarification? Inefficient. I may have needed to adjust my assessment of Doctor King. Maybe he was not as respectable as I... No. I had to stop myself again, from judging this primate so quickly, so harshly. There was a reason he asked my host that question again. What was it? I was a Shard from the Thinker, I had the ability to consider these questions, I only needed but to use it. Doctor King restated his inquiry because... He wished to ensure the emotional health of Taylor Hebert. If Taylor Hebert had been psychologically compromised by the moment of grief, then she would be more likely to experience mental harm in the future. Prevention of illness was more efficient than treatment of illness. Doctor King was a respectable human.
I repeated my answer in order to reassure the psychiatrist of my mental well-being. "Yes, Doctor King. I am okay. I was not okay before, but now I am certainly okay." The man seemed content with that answer, as he nodded and smiled, before using a writing utensil and making semantic markings onto some sort of medium made from plant matter. Curious.
Looking back at me, he continued his assessment of the emotional status of my host. "How are you in general right now, Taylor? I understand you went through a pretty scary experience, and I can only imagine what waking up in a hospital bed must have been like."
I took the time to think about his words. Being a Shard from the Thinker, my cognitive processes were far more rapid than those of the humans, even with my physical thought-organ still being partially composed of primate biology; this in mind, I took the time to think about the words of Doctor King. I was quickly realizing that I had, perhaps, been being impatient with the father of Taylor Hebert, or with the nurse that provided me with sustenance; such actions felt more like they belonged to Shards of the Warrior, and I felt an odd emotion - embarrassment, I believed - course through me at that comparison. What did Doctor King want out of this communication, and how could I provide it to him? How could I convince Doctor King that my host was psychologically stable, and thus did not need any extraordinary clinical measures? He had been uncertain of my emotional health when I had plainly stated that I was in proper condition, so the best course of action would be...
"I'm not great, Doctor King." Contractions, too. I had noticed them in the other humans, and more than anything, the Thinker had experienced plenty of languages before now that used them; my previous impatience had cost me precious opportunities to seem more normal to these humans, which I now needed to make up. "I... Umm." One of those non-semantical noises. Perhaps using it would help to make my speech seem more natural? "I had some pretty bad stuff happen to me. I was hurt pretty badly. It was a traumatic experience." The psychiatrist nodded; it seemed that he had expected these sort of answers, and I considered this last bit of dialogue to be successful, so far. "I'm feeling better after consuming nutr- I mean, after eating some food." Damn it. Doctor King was looking at me suspiciously after that slip up. I hoped that he would consider it a symptom of whatever psychological issue he believed Taylor Hebert to have.
"I..." Wait, what was happening? Moisture began to gather in my eyes, threatening to overflow. Damnit! Not again! "I..." Taylor Hebert was forcing herself back up to the surface. I had assumed that her consciousness was completely annihilated by my take-over of her brain, but it appeared that such an assessment had been incorrect. "I... The locker... Inside the locker, it was so..." I had no control over my vocal organs. I, myself, the Adaptation shard, was feeling distressed, a separation emotion from the fear and anxiety that Taylor Hebert was feeling at that moment. That body was supposed to be mine. I vaguely considered the fact that, technically, I was supposed to be in the metaphorical backseat to my host - an interesting shorthand image, one that managed to temporarily distract me from the current crisis - but I had formed plans since I had awoken, and, and, and... Being alive was nice. It was enjoyable, it was pleasurable. I had some blurry memories of being deployed to hosts in previous cycles, and being asleep for so long was, was... I hated it. I did not hate it at the time, but that was because I had nothing to compare it to. But now that I had an entire physical body to myself, I was not about to give it up, especially not to this, this... Primate.
"Damnit..." I seized control back from the body, wiping the tears from my face. Doctor King retrieved some objects meant to assist in cleaning up in the aftermath of crying - tissues, I believed - and handed them to me, before placing a hand meant for comfort onto my arm.
"It's okay to cry, Taylor." The man's eyes shimmered with... Something. The sympathy he practiced was trained, was practiced, but at that moment, he genuinely, truly cared for Taylor Hebert, even though he had never seen her before this meeting. What sort of altruism did these primates possess? "Crying means you know that you've been hurt. And knowing that you've been hurt is the first step to dealing with that pain."
Indeed, Taylor Hebert had been hurt. She had been hurt deeply, and not just during the incident that caused me to merge with her. Memories began to flood into me, as did emotions from my host, though I managed to suppress the latter this time. A human girl with bright hair colored like fire; an interesting tone, one that I did not believe I had ever seen in a species before. Another human girl with dark skin, and a perpetual negative expression on her face. One last human girl, smaller than the others, with a child-like appearance that belied a cruel personality and even crueler actions. Many, many others, not nearly as prevalent as those three, but all of which Taylor Hebert possessed some bitterness towards. They... They had not helped Taylor, even as she was being harmed by those human girls. The other humans allowed Taylor Hebert to be injured, and some of them encouraged it. I had momentarily considered humans to be uniquely altruistic creatures, but my assessment on that matter was quickly changing. More than any of that, though, was the fact that it was inefficient. I well understood the need for hierarchy in a society, but the hierarchy that had been constructed at that educational center with Taylor Hebert at the bottom accomplished nothing aside from making the three young females at the top feel superior. It did not contribute to social stability, nor did it contribute to society at all; it was to say the least, a disgusting and inefficient system.
One way or another, once I had managed to leave this hospital, I believed that there were some matters that belonged to Taylor which I would have to... Handle. It would be inefficient to allow my host to continue to be harmed whilst I attempted to accomplish my objectives.
I managed to return my body to emotional stability, and smiled at Doctor King. "Thank you, Doctor King. I appreciate your kind words." The man smiled back at me, and I realized that the outgrowth of hair on his face had - at least partially - been groomed to facilitate an image of gentleness and familiarity. The image of a human cultural figure appeared in my mind: Santa Claus, an older, friendly male who altruistically delivered objects to people - especially young children - without expectation of reciprocation. Odd, how humans idealized altruism, and yet the experiences of Taylor Hebert suggested that so few replicated those actions. I forced myself back to the conversation with Doctor King, though, and continued my dialogue. "I do feel great sadness and pain in regards to what happened to me, but I think that I can overcome it with time and help."
An expression appeared on the face of Doctor King, and I immediately regretted my words. The expression was a positive one, but... "I'm glad you said that, Taylor. Like I said, I'm not able to spend too much time with you tonight, but..." The man looked over to the time-telling device on the wall - the clock, I now reminded myself - before turning back to me. "How would you like to be set up with a therapist? I already consulted with your dad, and he said that his insurance should be able to cover it." The memories I had from Taylor suggested that this "insurance" would not, in fact, be able to pay for that sort of emotional treatment, but also that Danny Hebert was a man willing to sacrifice much for his daughter. Altruistic, unlike the students at the educational center Taylor attended. "It wouldn't be here, at the hospital, but we have some really great people closer to where you live that you can go see. We can start you at maybe once a week, and then we can scale the visits to whatever you feel is best."
I considered the dilemma. Being forced to see a "therapist" and waste precious time I could be devoting to my objectives when my own psychological health was perfect and unshakeable would be horrifically inefficient... But I felt my host, Taylor Hebert, inside of me, still there. The psychological health of Taylor Hebert was not perfect and unshakeable, and the threat of her emotions overwhelming me at inconvenient times and causing disruptions in my objectives would be... Inefficient. "I would be very happy to see a therapist, Doctor King."
The man smiled and nodded once more as he wrote on his notepad again; ah, a notepad, that was what the plant-based medium was. "Alright. I'll get in touch with the appropriate people, and they'll get in touch with your dad. Sound good?" Another non-question, a "rhetorical" question. It was not inefficient. It was meant to confirm understanding and acceptance between individuals, and to foster a sense of voluntary interaction. I nodded back, with my own smile on my face. "Anyways, Taylor, I do need to ask you one more thing before I go. I'm pretty sure I already know the answer, but it's part of my job to ask it either way." The expression on the face of Doctor King turned into a frown, and I became worried for a moment as he began to speak. "Taylor. Do you want to hurt yourself right now?" What sort of question was that? Why would I want to hurt myself? That would be inefficient. I shook my head for a negative answer. "Alright. Good. Now, do you want to hurt anybody else?"
I paused. The faces of the three girls flashed through my head again, the images spurred on by Taylor Hebert, sleeping inside of me. Yes, I wanted to hurt them. They had harmed my host, and would likely attempt to harm me in the future. They needed to be harmed in such a way that they could no longer pose a threat. But the question Doctor King was posing to me... If I answered in the affirmative, how would he react? What would happen to me, to my host body, if I said yes? Would we be restrained? Would we be imprisoned? I could not take the risk. "No, Doctor King. I don't want to hurt anybody else."
The eyebrows of the psychiatrist moved, expressing a negative emotion. Doubt. "Taylor. It's okay if you want to hurt the people who did this to you. That's perfectly normal. Let me ask a different question. Do you plan on hurting anybody else?"
I took a moment to seem as if I was in thought, but I already knew the proper response, the response I had to give in order to ensure my continued freedom as Taylor Hebert. "No, Doctor King. I want to hurt the people who did this to me, but I'm not planning on doing it."
He seemed satisfied with that answer, as he smiled once more before pulling back. "Alright. I'll get out of your hair now-" Out of my hair? He was not in my hair. What was he- Ah, a turn of phrase. Being in the hair of an individual being akin to causing them distress. Understandable. "-but just remember that you can press the buzzer if you need anything. I might be seeing other patients, but I'll try to make time for you as soon as you can if you need me, okay?" I smiled back, and nodded yet again. I liked these gestures. I was using them a lot, but they were a very efficient way of replacing verbal speech. "Alright. Have a good night, Miss Hebert."
I bid farewell almost automatically as the man left my room - "Good night, Doctor King." - and I was fairly certain that the words were coming from my increasing understanding of human conversation, as opposed to the memories of Taylor Hebert. Conflict, after a fashion. Growth. Evolution. Adaptation. I smiled now to myself, an expression of my own contentedness with the progress I had made so far.
I remembered the request that Danny Hebert had made of me before he left, though, that he wanted me to contact him once the medical professionals were done running their examinations on me. As I looked at the clock, I could tell that it was quite late for the people in this part of the Earth, and that my father would normally be asleep by now. However, the memories of Taylor Hebert told me that the man regularly stayed up later than was healthy for his body during times like these, when Taylor was away from home. There was a telecommunications device next to my bed, and I searched the memories of my host for the proper way to use it. After a few minutes of doing so - I was surprised at how complex of a device it seemed to be - I managed to use the contact information of my father and attempted to connect to the device at his residence.
The device - the phone - gave a single set of noises - a ring, apparently, a term also used for a certain circular shape, and... "Taylor?" The voice of Danny Hebert came from the audio output of the phone. "Is that you, Taylor? The number say it's from the hospital, so I assumed, but, uhh... This is Taylor, right?"
Danny Hebert was a peculiar individual. According to the memories of Taylor Hebert, he was prone to outbursts of anger and rage, and could be incredibly confident and assertive if he felt that the situation required it. But at the same time, he lacked confidence in very many other situations, this current one apparently included. "Hi, dad." Yes, that is a much better pattern of speech than I had with him before; a slight noise that suggested a sigh of relief confirmed my suspicions. "This is Taylor, yes."
Our father started with a small, unsure noise of humor - a laugh, but not one that was made with any degree of genuine joviality. "Hey there, kiddo. How're you doing?" The voice of Danny Hebert was shakey, and his anxiety and worry was clear.
"I..." Damnit. You wanted out, Taylor Hebert? Fine. Come out, but only for now. I will take control back when I desire. "I'm..." The tears, the improper flexing of the vocal organs, the difficult intake of oxygenated air. "I'm not great, dad." I knew that I was the one speaking the words, but it was as if I was some human actor, reading the lines that had been given to me by another person. "I, umm. I kind of want to get sleep right now, actually, but, umm. I... I do want to tell you everything, when I can?" Well, no, Taylor Hebert, we are not telling him everything. But we can tell him what you want him to know, at least.
The voice of Danny Hebert had become more unsteady as he heard the crying voice of his daughter, but the man retained some stability in his words. "Alright. Alright, I understand, kiddo. No pressure though, okay? Just... Just tell me when you're ready, yeah? I love you, Taylor."
"Okay, yeah, I will. And I love you too, dad." The moisture from my eyes dripped down my cheeks, and the damnable emotions of Taylor Hebert intruded upon my own consciousness. "Night, dad."
"Night, kiddo." Danny Hebert had disconnected his phone from the call, and I proceeded to do so shortly after he had.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. A human expression for frustration and general negative emotion, apparently connected to the concept that enough stress can cause pain in their cranium. I was aware that Shards were naturally given by our species to individuals that are particularly emotionally vulnerable, as they tend to go through greater degrees of conflict than most other subjects. But this... I almost wondered what the Thinker had been, well, thinking when she gave me to this girl. How was I supposed to do anything in these circumstances? If everything had gone according to plan, if the Warrior had not been killed, if the Thinker had not made her mistakes, how was Taylor Hebert supposed to use me to my greatest utility?
I entered a smaller room attached to the one that my bed had been placed in. My memories suggested that this was a room for individuals to dispose of bodily waste, and also that it would have a reflective object on the wall. Sure enough, there was a mirror, positioned above a sink, meant to maintain sanitary conditions for the hands of the humans.
I placed myself so that I could see the face of my host body. Taylor Hebert was... Physically, she was not the finest specimen of humanity. She possessed very little in the way of physical strength, and I suspected that she would lose in unpowered confrontation against most individuals. It was, if I was being honest to both her and myself, highly inefficient for her to have this form. It would be too revealing if I added muscle mass to her right away, so I opted to increase her strength through normal human exercise; at the very least, I would disguise my modifications as having been attained through mundane means.
But examining Taylor Hebert was not the primary reason that I had come into this room, nor was bodily waste disposal, though I suspected I would have to engage in that soon enough. Instead, I ensured that the door to this room was closed and locked, and looked closely at the mirror.
My face began to shift, as did my hair, the features changing as I exerted my power over my host body. Fiery hair, a face with aesthetics that many humans would find appealing in a mate. "Emma Barnes." Shifting again, increasing the amount of melanin in my skin and the consistency of my hair. "Sophia Hess." One last time, making my features seem "cute", in a way that was appealing to some humans but would otherwise make most feel at comfort. "Madison Clements." I changed back to Taylor Hebert, and I could feel emotions from my host pouring into me as I did.
Taylor Hebert had been harmed by those girls. Taylor Hebert had been made psychologically unstable by those girls. So long as Taylor Hebert remained psychologically unstable, my objectives were at risk of being compromised. A cursory examination of the mental patterns of Taylor Hebert suggested that returning harm upon those girls - achieving "revenge" - would help to increase her psychological stability, at least in the short term.
I felt bad, for a moment, knowing that I had lied to Doctor King. I felt guilt, and I felt shame. Doctor King was a good man, an altruistic man, an efficient man. I did not wish to betray his trust.
But Taylor Hebert demanded that I hurt those girls - those girls so lacking in altruism and in efficiency - and I was more than happy to oblige her.