So, to increase the traffic on my blog and create some awareness about the release of my next novel, I started also working on some short stories which take place in the world of S-Class. Specifically, they let you see how professions have changed in a world populated by super-human.
The first is psychology. First snippet. Enjoy!
"I don't remember much of the night my father killed my mother. Just... Pieces." He nodded. The woman crossed her fingers, her gaze low. "I remember the smell of old leather. A rope. My father screaming. Not much else. I went to sleep in my bed and woke up in the hospital."
"It was on the news briefly, I think." He remembered a few articles from when he was in college, regarding an uxoricide. The culprit had the same family name as his prospective client.
"Yes. My father... He never spoke. He didn't talk, he didn't try to defend himself. He accepted the verdict. Prison for life. But, there was one thing that hr and his lawyer -a friend of the family- fought against tooth and nail, no matter how bad it looked in court: telepathic questioning." She adjusted a stray lock of brown hair. "He's never even wanted to talk to me in prison. And recently, I started thinking... What if he was doing it to protect me?"
"You think there's something in your memories that may help you shade light." He took a note on his pad. Old fashioned, they called him, but he always preferred pen and paper to touch screens. A question of texture.
"Yes. No one knows what happened that night, except my father and me. But I can't access that knowledge on my own." The woman raised her head, staring at him across his desk. "That's why I came to you, doctor Samson." The onyx skinned man nodded, setting his pad aside. "I've read about you in the official digest. You're the foremost expert on the subject."
"I am." He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Miss Taylor, there are two ways to accomplish what you ask me of. The first is the slow, traditional way. It'd take a series of weekly sessions, and I would use my Skill only to monitor." He joined his hands on his desk, his jaw setting firmly. "The second is the fast, invasive way."
"... How invasive?" He sighed. Ever since he did it the first time, he had never managed to solve those kind of cases the normal way anymore.
"Miss Taylor, you have to understand that memories are not like the inhabitants of a condo. Each one with their own room, who suddenly move in and then only go out when they need to." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "They're like the ingredients in a dish. Different and isolated when alone, but inevitably and strongly connected together when cooked. There are limits, of course, but I won't be able to only vision one night of memories. At least an year."
"I see." The woman nodded, even if her eyes shifted to the right.
"Also, I won't be able to bring the wall down for you. I don't have that kind of ability. I only know of two telepaths alive who can do something like that, and neither exercise the profession." He furrowed his brow for but a moment. "What I will do is look for a back-door, make a copy and come out before anyone's the wiser." As he bent down to open a drawer, he didn't miss the sudden elevation of the woman's eyebrows. "Even if only S-Class can take notice of a telepathic intrusion, the human brain is not without defences. Telepaths can either smash through or sneak around them. The first option is never pleasant for the guest, but sometimes the telepath's hand is forced."
"T-There's always that kind of risk?"
"Always. The human brain can't detect the presence of another mind as anything but harmful." He collected a small stack of papers. "Unless they're already broken." He presented them to the suddenly stiff miss Taylor. The woman took the papers. "This is a form that I make all clients sign before the procedure. It's both a written permission and an acknowledgment that you know all the risks, and lift me from any responsibilities. I want you to read it thoroughly."
"Yes." She nodded and opened her bag, and carefully placed the form inside. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well, there's the matter of the price. After the procedure, I will be... Vulnerable." He clicked his tongue. That was the worst part. "My brain will take at least three days to sort through all the new information I will dump into it. That translate in days without holding study and a pretty miserable condition for my persona."
"Money is not a problem. I trust it's addressed in the form as well?" He nodded. "I'll contact you shortly, doctor Samson."
"Have a nice day, miss Taylor." Once she was behind the door, the psychologist sighed and allowed himself to sink in his chair. "Seems like another three days of drool." Reading people was his job. Even without using his Skill, he had a feeling the woman had enough restlessness and foolishness to go through with the procedure.
Not even a firing squad would ever make him call it bravery. He knew what having someone invade your mind felt like, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone.
The first is psychology. First snippet. Enjoy!
"I don't remember much of the night my father killed my mother. Just... Pieces." He nodded. The woman crossed her fingers, her gaze low. "I remember the smell of old leather. A rope. My father screaming. Not much else. I went to sleep in my bed and woke up in the hospital."
"It was on the news briefly, I think." He remembered a few articles from when he was in college, regarding an uxoricide. The culprit had the same family name as his prospective client.
"Yes. My father... He never spoke. He didn't talk, he didn't try to defend himself. He accepted the verdict. Prison for life. But, there was one thing that hr and his lawyer -a friend of the family- fought against tooth and nail, no matter how bad it looked in court: telepathic questioning." She adjusted a stray lock of brown hair. "He's never even wanted to talk to me in prison. And recently, I started thinking... What if he was doing it to protect me?"
"You think there's something in your memories that may help you shade light." He took a note on his pad. Old fashioned, they called him, but he always preferred pen and paper to touch screens. A question of texture.
"Yes. No one knows what happened that night, except my father and me. But I can't access that knowledge on my own." The woman raised her head, staring at him across his desk. "That's why I came to you, doctor Samson." The onyx skinned man nodded, setting his pad aside. "I've read about you in the official digest. You're the foremost expert on the subject."
"I am." He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Miss Taylor, there are two ways to accomplish what you ask me of. The first is the slow, traditional way. It'd take a series of weekly sessions, and I would use my Skill only to monitor." He joined his hands on his desk, his jaw setting firmly. "The second is the fast, invasive way."
"... How invasive?" He sighed. Ever since he did it the first time, he had never managed to solve those kind of cases the normal way anymore.
"Miss Taylor, you have to understand that memories are not like the inhabitants of a condo. Each one with their own room, who suddenly move in and then only go out when they need to." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "They're like the ingredients in a dish. Different and isolated when alone, but inevitably and strongly connected together when cooked. There are limits, of course, but I won't be able to only vision one night of memories. At least an year."
"I see." The woman nodded, even if her eyes shifted to the right.
"Also, I won't be able to bring the wall down for you. I don't have that kind of ability. I only know of two telepaths alive who can do something like that, and neither exercise the profession." He furrowed his brow for but a moment. "What I will do is look for a back-door, make a copy and come out before anyone's the wiser." As he bent down to open a drawer, he didn't miss the sudden elevation of the woman's eyebrows. "Even if only S-Class can take notice of a telepathic intrusion, the human brain is not without defences. Telepaths can either smash through or sneak around them. The first option is never pleasant for the guest, but sometimes the telepath's hand is forced."
"T-There's always that kind of risk?"
"Always. The human brain can't detect the presence of another mind as anything but harmful." He collected a small stack of papers. "Unless they're already broken." He presented them to the suddenly stiff miss Taylor. The woman took the papers. "This is a form that I make all clients sign before the procedure. It's both a written permission and an acknowledgment that you know all the risks, and lift me from any responsibilities. I want you to read it thoroughly."
"Yes." She nodded and opened her bag, and carefully placed the form inside. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well, there's the matter of the price. After the procedure, I will be... Vulnerable." He clicked his tongue. That was the worst part. "My brain will take at least three days to sort through all the new information I will dump into it. That translate in days without holding study and a pretty miserable condition for my persona."
"Money is not a problem. I trust it's addressed in the form as well?" He nodded. "I'll contact you shortly, doctor Samson."
"Have a nice day, miss Taylor." Once she was behind the door, the psychologist sighed and allowed himself to sink in his chair. "Seems like another three days of drool." Reading people was his job. Even without using his Skill, he had a feeling the woman had enough restlessness and foolishness to go through with the procedure.
Not even a firing squad would ever make him call it bravery. He knew what having someone invade your mind felt like, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone.