The Session (2 page)

“Ahh?”

“Religion. Powerful psychological influence on people. It impacts on people in ways they couldn't possibly understand. Even those who don't believe. Or say they don't believe.” He chuckled a little to himself. “I wrote a short dissertation on it some time ago. It was quite well received even if I do say so myself.”

“Anyway you were saying? Something about hell and punishing the wicked?”

Lucifer stared at the doctor for a moment, wondering just what was going on with the man. It was as though he not only couldn't see him but he also didn't even understand what he was telling him. Maybe it was time to be completely blunt.

“Yes Doctor. That's what I do. I am the devil after all. The Prince of the Underworld. Ruler of Hell. Satan.”

“So you believe that punishing the wicked is your job?”

“Yes.” Of course he did since it was his job. Did the man understand nothing?

“And you feel that people don't like you because of that?”

“I know they don't like me Doctor. They turn pale and recoil when they see me. They run away screaming. They jump out of windows.” And that was the source of his problem. No one liked it when people ran from them. Did they?

“And how does that make you feel?”

For a moment Lucifer almost couldn't believe the doctor had asked the question – it was just so simply ridiculous. But he had. And then when he realised he had Lucifer lost a little of his self-control. The doctor's desk abruptly collapsed because the wood in it had rotted away to nothing. The pictures on the wall including his degrees blackened. And the doctor's own chair buckled as the steel frame gave way to metal fatigue, spilling him onto the carpet. Corruption was a powerful force if it wasn't controlled.

Immediately after that the doctor rolled over onto his hands and knees, pushed himself up until he was standing and surveyed the room in horror.

“Good grief! The maintenance in this place is truly shocking!”

It was then that Lucifer knew he had a problem – or that one of them did. The doctor not only couldn't see him as he was he couldn't even make sense of what he did. The doctor was completely blind to him – or utterly stupid despite his endless degrees. And he had come to ask for his help! One of them was in trouble.

“Now Mr. Cypher – Lou – you were telling me how it felt to be rejected.” The doctor pulled out the chair from behind his desk and sat down facing him again. It was a cheap plastic office chair and it would be only too easy to melt it – and perhaps Doctor Clemmons with it. But Lucifer knew that that would be frowned on. Those above accepted accidents, or at least they didn't complain too loudly when they happened, but they did tend to get upset when he deliberately killed someone. And maybe he thought, this was something to do with them. The doctor's complete blindness to him couldn't be natural and the politics between the realms were always complicated. So maybe if they had planned this, it might be helpful to find out a little bit more. To find out what game they were playing. Lucifer decided to play along for a while.

“Not good Doctor.”

“And how long has this been happening?”

“Twenty thousand years – give or take.”

“Ahh – it feels like forever doesn't it?” The doctor sighed knowingly and made a few more notes in his pad. “The pain of these things stays with you long after the people are gone and forgotten. I just wish more people understood that.”

“And tell me Lou, do you think that has something to do with your phobia about touch?”

“My phobia about touch?!” For a moment Lucifer didn't understand. He didn't have a phobia. He created phobias in others. The doctor was heading off into some strange alternate reality. Again.

“Well yes. You think I didn't notice when you couldn't shake my hand? It was very obvious. And unfortunately very predictable. You have a problem being intimate with people. You're afraid of being rejected and that manifests itself it in these irrational fears.”

“Irrational fears?”

“Yes. Unfortunately it's very common.” The doctor ran on completely ignoring Lucifer's very obvious disbelief. “Something like five and a half percent of people will have some form of phobia about touch, though most just struggle with it and pretend it isn't there. But the good news is that it's very treatable. Some cognitive therapy and an anti-anxiety medication should do the trick.”

“Drugs?! You want to drug me?” Few things in the last twenty thousand years had surprised Lucifer but that did. In fact it was profoundly shocking and for a few seconds he didn't know quite what to think. The doctor was insane. The clock on the wall paid the cost of his confusion as it began to melt.

“Treat Mr. Cypher. Treat. The medicines I'm going to prescribe aren't narcotics of any sort. They won't get you high and they aren't addictive. In fact they're very safe and I'm only going to suggest starting you off on a very low dose. The anti-anxiety medication will do nothing more than take the edge off so that you're not always worrying about how others will react to you.”

“Medicines?! More than one?!” He wasn't just talking about one drug Lucifer realised. He was talking about several at least. Maybe a whole pharmacy!

“Well yes. It's clear that you're suffering from a mild depression as well and I think we need to deal with that.”

“Depression?” Lucifer was shocked all over again. He hadn't felt at all depressed until he'd walked into the doctor's office. And he still wasn't feeling depressed. He was feeling shocked – and maybe just a little annoyed by the obvious impertinence of the idea. That would not be a good thing for the doctor – or the clinic.

“Again it's very obvious to someone with some experience in these things. You're uptight and withdrawn. Sitting as far away from me as possible, arms across your chest in a defensive posture. Your answers to my questions have been short at best as you try not to give away anything of a personal nature. And your general affect is very flat. Normally people would be profoundly affected by the things you've described.”

Lucifer wondered if there was any point in telling him the obvious. That he was sitting as he was because the chair had never been designed for a person of his size, nor one with wings. That his arms were crossed because having his wings crushed against the back of the chair was forcing his shoulders and arms forward. Or that he was sitting as far away from the doctor as he could because he didn't want to accidentally incinerate him. But there probably wasn't any point. The doctor wouldn't hear him. And he'd likely just prescribe him more drugs.

“These are all very classic signs of depression and a little bit of paranoia and the sooner we can get onto them the better.”

“So I'm going to prescribe you an SSRI – that's a selective seratonin reuptake inhibiter, but you don't really need to know all of that psychobabble. All you need to understand is that it's a mood enhancer. It will make you feel better. Life will seem just that little bit cheerier. And again it's going to be only a very low dose. There is no danger of addiction and you won't have to worry about it making you feel strange or anything.”

Actually Lucifer thought, he was already feeling a little strange just then listening to the babbling idiot. How could anyone have thought the man knew anything about anything? Where had he got all his degrees from? A box of breakfast cereal? But he guessed that it was his own fault for listening to his pets. They tended to say anything to avoid being roasted alive – again. Still they were going to have to suffer for this. Suffer for eternity.

It was time to leave Lucifer decided. Whatever was happening, whatever was wrong with the doctor, he wasn't going to be able to help him. In fact he was just adding to his woes, not least because Lucifer was slowly giving into his anger. He wanted to roast him alive for his blindness but he knew that those upstairs would get upset with him if he did. Best to leave peacefully before that happened. To make his excuses as the monkeys said.

“Is that it Doctor?”

“No I'm afraid not.” The doctor shook his head and there was a slightly sad look in his eyes. “There's one more thing I think we have to get on top of. Your paranoid delusions.”

“Ah huh.” For a moment Lucifer thought about simply letting his control slip completely and showing the doctor who he really was – then he'd start to know what a paranoid delusion was. But them upstairs wouldn't approve, so he held it back. Besides the doctor was so impossibly blind and stupid he still might not understand.

“Look, I don't want to seem hard with you.” The doctor leaned forward in his chair and stared straight at him. “I mean this isn't your fault at all. But it's obvious that things have got a little out of control in your life.”

“All this talk about Hell and being given the job of punishing the wicked. Doesn't that strike even you as a little odd?”

“Okay …?” Lucifer decided to play along. After all this was going nowhere fast and he'd soon be out of here. And oddly he was a little curious as to what further insanity could come out of the doctor's mouth. The man was clearly barking mad.

“Look here's the thing. A little imagination is a good thing. And if it helps you cope with the stuff life throws at you so much the better. But there comes a point when imagination goes beyond that. When it becomes hard to distinguish between what's real and what's not. And I'm a little worried that you've reached that point. And once you're there of course it becomes very hard to find your way back.”

“That's when things go wrong of course. When people go beyond just thinking delusionally, they start acting on their delusions. And I'm sure you agree, we can't have that. Especially not when you're talking about punishing people. If you were ever to act on those thoughts you could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Ever to act …?”

“Exactly. We can't have that. Which is why I'm prescribing you an anti-psychotic. Now don't worry yourself about the term.” The doctor held up a hand as if to stop him doing something. “It's just a word. And it doesn't mean that you're crazy.”

It wasn't him who was crazy Lucifer thought. But it would have been both pointless and rude to have said that to the doctor.

“And in fact the particular medicine I'm going to prescribe for you is actually only for hallucinations and paranoia. It's very safe and has no side effects at all. And you're actually very lucky because it's only just come on the market a month ago. It's called Redobax and what it will do is not take away the hallucinations and negative feelings of persecution, but just give you a little distance so that you can see them for what they are.”

“Redobax.” Lucifer was idly beginning to wonder if he should be getting a medicine cabinet with all the drugs the doctor was prescribing. The man was mad – and that did not seem a good thing for a doctor to be. Even monkeys deserved therapists with some basic measure of sanity. Then again maybe that was why so many of them came to him when they died. That they'd seen therapists like this one. Well meaning fools who clearly had no idea what they were doing.

“Yes. Brand new on the market and if I do say so myself it will change the entire nature of psychosis management. And I should also mention in the interests of full disclosure that I did design it myself. One of my interests is pharmacology. But it has now completed its stage three drug trials and been proven one hundred percent safe and ninety eight point two percent effective. So I'm not foisting an experimental drug on you or anything.”

“Uh huh.” Lucifer wasn't completely sure he believed him. Certainly there was nothing of deception in the doctor, though maybe a touch too much pride. But still –?

“And just between you and me, I can personally attest to its effectiveness. I'm on it right now.”

Lucifer's mouth dropped exposing his rows of yellow teeth to the world and letting a little of his naturally sulphurous breath escape. The floor creaked alarmingly underneath them as it's steel and timber beams started to corrupt. And the ceiling started to bulge, threatening to fall down on top of them. For a while it was all he could do to contain himself as he heard the doctor's unbelievable confession and it took some time before he could ask the obvious question.

“You're taking anti-psychotic medicines while you're treating patients?” That seemed wrong to Lucifer somehow. In fact it seemed like some sort of sin. And when he thought about it he had a great many drug taking bungling doctors in the pit. The only difference being that they'd been on narcotics – giving in to temptation in place of caring for their patients. And yet perhaps it explained a little of the doctor's blindness. Finally something did.