With some time before he'd have to re-engage in conversation, Nat went straight into over-thinking mode, analyzing his performance in the brief interaction. It was rare that he didn't do an after-action analysis even for trivial interactions; maybe post-mortem would be a more applicable term, given how poorly most of them went.

  Okay so they're Ber'Duun for sure — if they're a natively using Tradish signs, Nat conjectured. Not all Ber'Duun signed and spoke simultaneously, but many did. Humans and Brin usually did one or the other, and if Nat was being honest about his species, most Humans never really took the time to learn more than the basic signs, at least not those living near Gravlin — there just weren't enough Ber'Duun around to be bothered.

  Now, how did that go? He hadn't embarrassed himself by visibly not knowing their name. Always a plus, came the sarcastic internal note. He'd try to prompt them to share it when they returned, but that rarely worked for reasons he wasn't clear on.

  But past the name he had absolutely no idea who they were. Names were one thing, but often once he figured out 'where' someone fit he could remember something about them — typically how his interactions had gone or how he felt about them. He was trawling his memory, but nothing was coming up — no vague feeling of familiarity was nagging at his sub-conscious. He could have met them on a bad episode day, but it sounded like they'd met him a while ago — and then again recently?

  This might have seemed over the top or weird to someone else, but this was just second-day to Nat. This wasn't top-ten material; not even close.

  At least the chair was comfortable, and the weather is great, he thought as he sat down.

  Nat started idly out across the rows of flowers, only half-watching the hummingbirds and their constant aerial skirmishes. The quick interaction didn't feel significant enough to spend more time considering yet — there just wasn't enough to really analyze deeply. Hopefully he hadn't come across as strange, he was sure he'd be given ample opportunity to offend or irritate. He'd probably spend too much time staring at their jewel-like eyes or something. Eye contact was another one of those social things Nat was just not good at — the rules made no sense!

  Nat did hope they came back though — they seemed far more interesting than the usual patients who were mostly here with sick children glued to their exhausted parents, arthritic elders grousing about the change in the weather, and the spate of usual workplace injuries. He was very interested to see someone who actively spoke gestural Tradish alongside the oral variant — it would let him correct and possibly extend his vocabulary or Tradish chironomy — adding new signs was always exciting.

  He wondered if they knew other gestural languages — if so he might pick up a few mudras for common concepts in a couple different languages that might be useful if he was ever well enough to travel, especially off Mirran, which had Ber'Duun enclaves but was a more temperate continent by latitude and had been populated by large groups of Humans. One wouldn't get far in the Ber lands with a Human language, or even just spoken Tradish.

  It was only a few minutes before the gecko-like Ber'Duun returned. Opapa's bells had run out the hour across the grounds, reliable as always, signalling the changing of the hour and reminding Nat that he still had an hour before the distinct ring that accompanied the noon bells — and thus lunch.

  Nat had been told he was food focused repeatedly throughout his life; he couldn't honestly disagree. Food was love. Food was life.

  Weaving their way back to the chat where Nat was sitting, the white-scaled Ber'Duun immediately resumed their fast-paced exposition.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Sorry, I had to reschedule with Tanner — he's only off work today, so he's going to wait here, and we'll try to slot him in later this afternoon if Dr. Renne is available to assist. Since it looks like there's an aether storm coming, it's important we let him get back to town and indoors — especially after therapy of this nature. I can't provide details about all of his treatment plan, but since he invited you to come observe this phase of his treatment, if you're interested, I can give a general overview of the procedure we'll be performing.”

  “Oh? What kind of treatment?” Nat was curious, this wasn't the sort of thing you could see every day, after all.

  “My specialty — desensitization therapy via electro and theromagnetic stimulation.”

  “I don't think I've ever heard those words all used together in that way before — how does it work?”

  “It's a relatively new therapy — as most things involving the Human and Brin system are, and few practitioners are capable of it. There are only two groups teaching it since it requires very specific capabilities, and I was lucky enough that the Nalgan are willing to share so readily. Oh, sorry, I'm not answering the actual question!”

  Lyn continued, breathlessly, “Essentially we'll over-stimulate portions of his brain and nervous system with electrical and theromagnetic fields. Obviously, the hope is to reduce, or potentially eliminate, his verbal and muscle tics by essentially desensitizing the pathways. It's a relatively common problem that develops in uplifts as they age, especially ones with certain affinities. In his case, rather than having too strong of a field, or intermittent firing of nerve signals, essentially his nerve fibers become irritated by what is considered a normal amount of theronic flow. So by overstimulating them briefly, we hope to reduce the severity of that reaction, slowly, over time, by essentially desensitizing the nerves to that particular stimulus.”

  “So, you'd be shocking him and pushing aether into him, till he gets used to it?”

  “Not quite. Firstly, there's little actual electrical activity involved — that's mostly used as a stabilizing influence to direct field formation. Secondly, we're not infusing anything into him per se, merely erecting a field that will excite his existing theronic flow. The therapy might be likened to playing loud music until he gets used to it and stops jumping when it suddenly starts. The music is still there, it's still just as loud, but the reaction to it is more subdued. Overall, it's a very safe procedure, which is why we're willing to attempt it outpatient — letting him leave rather than stay overnight for observation.”

  “Yeah, I'd be interested to see that.”

  “Great, we're tentatively scheduled for 3:30 — pending Dr. Renne's availability. If for some reason I'm not nearby, just ask for Lyn'Den at reception.”

  Success! A name! Nat thought triumphantly. Now to try to remember it.

  Nat must have taken too long trying to recite the name to himself, as Lyn immediately followed up, “That's me, by the way. We've never formally met. I'm Lyn'Den, your therapist. Well, provisionally, assume you agree now that you're capable of making an informed decision. You can call me Lyn.”

  In a case of simultaneous thought and speech, Nat's brain went with the classic standby, “What?”

  Lyn went on, “I apologize if no-one has yet had a chance to talk to you about me yet. Obviously the peculiarities of your specific case can make coordination difficult. I've got access to all of Dr. Savron's notes though, and even though I was going to leave later today I can absolutely delay my departure till the end of the week, and we can go over tentative treatment plans without you feeling rushed.”

  “Okay. Hold up. Wait.” Nat felt that his strong opener had maybe trailed off a bit. “You're — my doctor?”

  “Therapist! Aether therapist, specifically. I specialize in theronic and aetheric ailments; specifically diagnostics and therapies, in case that wasn't obvious. Assuming you consent to be treated by me. If your condition is caused, amplified or otherwise negatively affected by a theronic channel defect or imbalance, I can help identify and potentially mitigate, alleviate, or resolve those issues.”

  “Oh, um. That's probably okay? It's… a pleasure to meet you?” Nat held out his hand, palm sideways and flat — Ber'Duun didn't all have good wrist and hand flexibility and the Human handshake could be considered rude. A palm touch or loose forefinger/claw touch were the go-to greetings to avoid any difficulties with claws catching soft skin or fur.

  Lyn reached out made contact with Nat's waiting palm. To Nat, the silver pads of Lyn's paw felt strangely warm and cool simultaneously. There was a slight feeling of pressure that wasn't quite physical, and he noticed that his ears were full of the sound of crashing waves on the ocean…

  Oh…