Ahmadi took in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. Her expression was somber.
“I’m going to ask you if I can use your name,” Ahmadi said. Then, “May I call you by your given name?”
Tanaka nodded. For some reason it was difficult to talk. Something was wrong with her throat.
“Aliana? I am going to ask you if I can take your hand. May I take your hand?”
“Yes,” Tanaka said, but it was barely a whisper.
The thick, matronly woman leaned forward. Her fingers were strong, her skin was dry. Tanaka shuddered.
“Aliana, I feel that you are describing intimate assault.”
“No one touched me.”
“You have a very important, very private personal boundary. It was violated without your permission or consent. Is that right? Please, if I’m wrong, say. I want to understand.”
“They’re in my mind. I can’t keep them out. They’re going to know things that they can’t know.” She thought that her voice sounded very calm, all things considered. Ahmadi nodded.
“And you’re telling me that this . . . thing. It’s ongoing? It’s still happening right now?”
Tanaka felt herself still. Ahmadi let go of her hand and walked smoothly backward until her desk was between them. The psychiatrist’s eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed. Prey response. Whatever training the woman had gone through, it had made her sensitive enough to recognize danger. For a moment, Tanaka considered all the ways that she could kill the woman. There were several. None of them would put her in any physical danger, and two of them would be cathartic.
For a moment, the other selves were quiet too, as if they were just as frightened as the head shrinker. That was interesting, but it was for later. Now, in this room, Tanaka spread her hands, palms out and fingers splayed. The universal gesture for I’m unarmed. Ahmadi didn’t come back around her desk. Smart woman.
“I believe you have understood the situation,” Tanaka said, as carefully as if the syllables could cut her lips.
“I can see why you’ve been struggling. That sounds . . . terrible.”
“It is. Can you fix it?”
“There are some things I think we can try—”
Tanaka waved the words away, and Ahmadi went quiet. “I have to stop this. I can’t feel this anymore. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
The other woman licked her lips, and Tanaka had the visceral memory of someone who looked similar but with a broader face and a higher hairline, doing the same thing. She pushed the thought away.
“There may be some interventions,” Ahmadi said. “There are medicines that we use to reduce intrusive thoughts. Assuming the mechanism is similar, they could be very effective.”
“Good.”
“If inpatient care is an option for you, there are some focused magnetic treatments that we could try. Things that can blunt your experience.”
“But not stop it.”
“I don’t know what it is,” she said. “I will help you find out, though. I promise you that, Aliana. As terrible as this is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”
She didn’t see the irony in her choice of phrase, and Tanaka wasn’t in the mood to walk her through it. Her body felt like she’d had a bad virus. Weary until her muscles were falling off her bones. The storm in her head was still there, but not overwhelming at the moment. She didn’t trust that. Being tired made her vulnerable and weak. It didn’t make her free from the others.
“Let’s try the medications first,” she said.
“I’ll have them for you right away.”
Tanaka stood up. The station swayed under her, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes. “I think that’s enough for today.”
“We still have time, if you want to—”
“I think that’s enough for today. Have the medications delivered to my quarters here on the station. I’ll take them.”
“I’d like to see you again.” It was a bold statement, and they both knew it. Tanaka lowered her head. Ahmadi squared her shoulders. When she spoke, her voice was lower, calmer, more reassuring, more like it had been when Tanaka had first come in the office. “You are in crisis right now. But you’re also an incredibly strong person. You’ve never met anything that could stop you before, so you believe you can grit your teeth and force your way through it. And truthfully, you probably can. But Aliana, you can’t heal from this. Not without help.”