Sorry it's so short. But I'll try to make it up next time.
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Deter flatly refused to allow Clark a newspaper and he didn’t seem to care how upset Clark was. Instead Deter suggested having their session outside with a picnic lunch. Clark was certain it was an attempt to keep him – Alexa – away from any information coming in from the outside. But he had no idea why Deter didn’t want him to know about Superman’s funeral. Unless there was something else in the paper Deter didn’t want Alexa to know about.
“... and I want you to imagine that the tree is growing taller,” Deter was saying as Clark turned his attention back to the psychiatrist. “As it grows, so does your memory,” Deter went on. He didn’t seem to realize that Clark hadn’t been listening. “Picture a beautiful little girl with blonde hair, waking up on Christmas morning, getting her first bike… Visualize yourself as that girl and tell me what you are feeling.”
Clark frowned. He wasn’t sure what Deter expected as an answer. Clark Kent had never had a bicycle. He’d grown up around tractors, trucks, and combines, cows, chickens, cats, and horses. He’d never even asked his parents for a bicycle – he had known what the family finances looked like, even as a school kid.
Deter was waiting for an answer.
“Excitement. Happiness,” Clark answered tentatively.
“Anything else?” Deter prompted.
Clark thought back to things Lois had said about various Christmases at home. Lois wasn’t a big fan of Christmas. “Disappointment, maybe,” Clark said after a moment.
“Disappointment?”
“I really wanted a red bike. I got a yellow one. It was a silly thing to get upset about, I know.”
“And what makes you say that?”
Clark shrugged. “I just… it just seemed…” Clark put some excitement in his voice as though he had just realized something. “I remember that Christmas. I really do.”
“I'm excited for you. Do you remember anything else?”
Clark shook his head.
“That's okay. We're making real progress. Let's celebrate with some lunch,” Deter said, opening the picnic basket. He started pulling out wrapped sandwiches. “I hope you like corned beef.”
“We'll find out,” Clark assured Deter. He nodded to the picnic. “Do you do this with all of your patients?”
Deter smiled. “Just the special ones.”
“And how many special patients do you have?”
“You're the only one.”
“I don't know what to say,” Clark admitted. Deter’s attention was creeping him out.
“And I'm afraid I've said too much. Doctors aren't supposed to get emotionally involved with their patients,” Deter said.
“Is that what you are? Emotionally involved?” Clark asked, trying to sound interested and even a little coy.
Deter suddenly looked uncertain. “Tell me what you think of the corned beef,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.
Clark took a bite of the sandwich. It wasn't bad for CostMart prepackaged meat, but it certainly wasn’t great. He forced a smile. “I love it.”
“I knew you would…” Deter said. “How was your visit yesterday with Mr. Alexander?”
“Nice. He seems like a very nice man.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“This and that,” Clark said.
“Alexa, honesty and trust.”
Clark sighed. He didn’t want to tell Deter anything about Lois or Luthor, or anyone else for that matter.
“We talked a little about some things he's working on. He wants to do some writing, maybe get onto a newspaper… maybe a crime beat reporter.”
Deter shook his head.
“I specifically told him not to discuss things like that with you. It's too soon.”
“He didn't want to,” Clark protested mildly. “I had to drag it out of him.”
“Alexa, your memories have to flow back in slowly, or else you could counteract everything we're doing here.”
“But wouldn’t it be better if I remembered quickly?” Clark asked. “Worked through… faced… whatever made me forget?”
“And if it’s too much for you to face right now?” Deter asked.
“And who determines that?” Clark asked.
Deter started at him for a long moment. Then he reached out and took Clark’s hand. Clark fought to keep from shaking Deter away.
Deter smiled. “That’s why I’m the doctor.”
Clark forced himself to return Deter’s smile. He hoped Lois would come up with something soon so he could stop the charade of being even mildly interested in Deter, otherwise he was sure he do something he would regret to the man.
* * *
Clark went through his exercise routine. Mindfulness. It was all about control and concentration. Every move precise and attended to.
There was a knock on the door to his room. He ignored it as he finished his last moves. The knocking became more insisted and he looked through the door to see Mendenhall standing outside.
He opened the door. “Yes?”
“Alexa, I'm Doctor Mendenhall.”
“Oh... yes... I was just finishing my exercises.”
Mendenhall looked Alexa up and down and Clark had the feeling Mendenhall was evaluating Alexa like she was a horse up for auction.
“I thought we could start your treatments,” Mendenhall said.
“Now?”
“I see no reason to wait.”
Clark followed Mendenhall down to the psychiatrist’s office. He ushered him into a small ‘treatment room’ adjacent to the office. Clark had surveyed the room earlier and had been puzzled by what looked like a dentist’s chair in the middle of what looked like an electronics lab.
Mendenhall instructed him to sit and make himself comfortable in the chair while Mendenhall fiddled with one of the electronic devices. Mendenhall plugged several EKG type electrodes into one of the mysterious machines, then affixed the pads to Clark’s temples and other points on his scalp.
“I want you to relax and watch the screen,” Mendenhall instructed, positioning a monitor in front of Alexa. Then he put a pair of headphones on him/her, and pleasant music started to play. Pictures started to flash on the screen. Pictures of flowers and lakes and little children with puppies. An odd droning started beneath the music – Mendenhall’s voice saying ‘listen to the music… you are very relaxed… you trust my voice… listen to my voice…’
Super-hearing had major advantages. A human would not have consciously heard the drone as words, but their subconscious no doubt would have, and would have obeyed. The electrodes tickled against his skin and Clark realized they weren’t just measuring his brainwaves. Clark wasn’t sure exactly what Mendenhall was trying to accomplish by running low level current into his patient’s brains, but it probably wasn't anything the FDA or AMA would approve of.
The music changed to a horrific arrangement of ‘Feelings’ but the voice was still droning on.
Over the music and the voice, Clark heard a phone ring and then the sound of Mendenhall picking up the receiver. The caller asked how things were going. Clark didn’t recognize the voice.
“Everything is going quite well,” Mendenhall said to the unidentified caller. “The contract will be carried out in another day or so, providing you deliver the money by six o'clock tonight.”
The caller asked about acceptable forms of payment. Mendenhall’s tone turned hard. “Sorry, this is a cash only business. One of my clients tried to pass me a bad check and they never found his body. Just leave the money at the drop site, and the rest will be handled.”
Suddenly Mendenhall’s hands were removing the headphones and the electrodes. The monitor was blank. Mendenhall softly called Alexa’s name.
Clark pretended to be dazed, looking up at Mendenhall with unfocussed eyes.
“Your treatment is coming along very well,” Mendenhall said as he helped Clark out of the chair. “You go on back to your room now and rest.”
Clark simply nodded as he headed for the door. Something very odd had just happened and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
