Correspondence

Week 13 of the AHC project

to

Dr. Charles Bradford

Portland, Oregon, USA, Earth

Dear Dr. Bradford,
this one is a challenge in his own league. He’s making me angry. I’ve read about the need for therapists to seek supervision to reflect on their emotions triggered by patients. But with the lack of professionals to talk to, I’ll have to rely on my self-discipline not to snap at this one.
On top of that, I have no clue what his ability could be.
It’s just painfully obvious that he is a troubled young man, but he covers it up with this obnoxious bravado. Sometimes I just see a future predator—someone I would have judged harshly in my former line of work.
Advice is highly appreciated, Octavia.

Attachment

Subject: Benjamin Archer, Age 17
Transcender Parent: Abigail Archer
Session Date: Monday, 11 a.m. Day 86 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Benjamin: Good morning, Dr. Regent. You’re looking slay today!
Me: Good morning, Mr. Archer. Haven’t we talked about your questionable remarks before?
Benjamin: Oh, come on, Doc. It’s a compliment! You’re hot! No shame in noticing.
Me: There is a difference between noticing and voicing. And this isn’t the appropriate setting to say such things.
Benjamin: I thought therapy was all about being honest, saying the stuff people keep bottled up. Right?
Me: Within appropriate boundaries, Mr. Archer. And commenting on my appearance is not within them.
Benjamin: Shouldn’t you be glad men are still calling you hot?
Me: You are not a man.

I know! I shouldn’t have said that. This kid just riles me up. The Fury in me screams when I see his smug, freckled face. I’m really struggling with professionalism here, Dr. Bradford. What else can I do to shove my personal feelings aside? He just reminds me of the men I judged and punished in my past. But that’s not his fault. To my knowledge, he’s never done anything wrong. He just… triggers me.

Benjamin: Mint condition. You could be the first to take me out of the box and play with me.

Gladly, nothing seems to get to him. Although I know that’s not true.

Me: Can we please drop that and get back to why you’re here?
Benjamin: Fine. Or… you know what? Not fine. Because I really don’t feel like it.
Me: It’s important we talk about your past and what troubles you.
Benjamin: Sorry for the comments! Sorry if I stepped on anyone’s toes!
Me: It’s good that you apologize. I’m sure many of your female co-patients would appreciate it too. But it doesn’t change the fact we should continue where we left off.
Benjamin: What if I just refuse? You can’t make me talk. Keep me here, pump me full of drugs. Fine. I just have nothing more to say about my past.
Me: With all due respect, Mr. Archer, I believe there’s a lot you still need to talk about.
Benjamin: It’s not like he ever beat us or anything! It wasn’t that bad. Really. So I don’t see the point.
Me: Your father may have never raised a hand against you or your sister, but you’ve mentioned how you tried to protect your sister from his harshness.
Benjamin: Yeah, he was a jerk. But lots of parents are. So what?
Me: Last time you mentioned you tried to cheer her up, make her laugh, distract her whenever your father made a hurtful comment towards your sister.
Benjamin: Mostly just tried to be funny, goofy. It worked sometimes. But she’s fine now. She’s in college, has a boyfriend. Doing great.
Me: But not when you were younger.
Benjamin: No.

I sensed the moment I had him. Truth be told, it’s exhilarating to crack open someone like this — to finally get to the truth beneath their front. I get why you chose this line of work. It’s so rewarding, even with the ones you don’t like.

Benjamin: I mean, she has cerebral palsy! How could a parent punish a kid for not being healthy? For not living up to his standards? Everyone else accepts her the way she is. We love her! So why couldn’t my dad?
Me: I don’t know, Mr. Archer. It hurts to see how cruel some people can be to their own children. Truth be told, it makes me angry having to witness how people sometimes treat their kin. Always did.
Benjamin: She couldn’t do certain things. So what? Who cares? She’s great. Smart and kind. Just not able to move or talk like everyone else. My mom finally divorcing that asshole was the best thing she ever did.
Me: So you didn’t have to shield her anymore?
Benjamin: I just always wished I could take her pain. As a kid, I remember wishing I could take her disease.
Me: Take it how?
Benjamin: Never mind.
Me: Please, Mr. Archer. I’d like to hear what you were thinking.
Benjamin: That maybe I should’ve been the one with the disability. That my dad would’ve been more forgiving if it was his son who was moving and talking awkwardly, instead of his daughter.

I hate humans sometimes.

Dear Dr. Bradford,
this one knows what her ability is. I can just feel it in my gut. She gets so sheepish sometimes during our sessions. I think she is, in fact, highly aware of the supernatural things surrounding her. I just can’t prove it. She’s smart, evasive, being cooperative without giving anything away. She’s more like a sparring partner in wits than a patient.
Luckily, she’s very compliant. Otherwise, I’d be worried about letting her run around the Center, risking that she knows much more than she lets on.
Looking forward to your evaluation of my notes, Octavia.

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Subject: Calmira Thornton, Age 15
Transcender Parent: Margaret Thornton
Session Date: Tuesday, 8 a.m. Day 87 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Me: How did you sleep last night, Ms. Thornton?
Calmira: Oh, I slept great, Dr. Regent. Thanks for asking.
Me: Anything troubling you since we last spoke?
Calmira: No, nothing. I’m doing great, Dr. Regent.
Me: Have you thought about my suggestion?
Calmira: About why other people thought I belonged here while I feel fine?
Me: Yes.
Calmira: I did.
Me: And?
Calmira: From what I understand, there are many psychological struggles that can make someone unaware of a problem. I saw a documentary once about a woman with bipolar disorder who thought her behaviors were normal until she was put on medication.
Me: Yes, there are conditions that make it hard to grasp reality or see what others see. Although what is “normal” is a term we should use cautiously, as it can easily stigmatize many marginalized groups.
Calmira: Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I meant in comparison to an intersubjective social lens.

Sometimes, I don’t even understand what she’s talking about.

Me: Ms. Thornton, I must say you are exceptionally well-read for such a young girl.
Calmira: Well, thank you, Dr. Regent.
Me: Is this something you enjoy? Learning?
Calmira: I do. It’s what I spend most of my time doing.
Me: How about friends?
Calmira: I don’t have any. My brothers are my friends, but that’s it.
Me: Does that trouble you?
Calmira: Sometimes, of course. But I think it gets easier when you get older. At least for me.

Me: How so?

Calmira: There are just not the right people in my school I can relate to. But I’m sure it will get better once I go to college and meet other like-minded people.
Me: And what kind of people would those be?
Calmira: People who like to talk about books, sociology, religion, or philosophy.
Me: Since you haven’t found these people yet, do you ever feel lonely?
Calmira: Not really. I don’t mind being alone. I can go without attention from others just fine.
Me: And did you come to any conclusion about why you were sent here when you see no need yourself?
Calmira: Honestly, I didn’t. If you see inappropriate self-harming or dangerous behavior, I must belong here. But other than that, I wouldn’t know.

It’s like trying to catch a leaf in the wind with her. She knows the system and outsmarts me with perfectly composed answers. Any thoughts on how to crack behind her defenses?

Dear Dr. Bradford,
I’ve made some astonishing progress with this one. Initially, I wasn’t certain, but I now genuinely believe his ability is somehow connected to astronomy — as mind-bending as that sounds. But how can I investigate further when there are no stellar objects in the Underworld?
His real diagnosis of being on the autism spectrum makes therapy more challenging. Additional guidelines on working with such patients would be extremely helpful.
Since he doesn’t appear troubled or traumatized, I find myself mostly stalling with him now. If you agree, perhaps I should consider pausing his therapy for a while. At this point, I’m unsure how to help or explore his ability further.
Warm regards, Octavia.

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Subject: Linus Keller, Age 14
Transcender Parent: Andrew Keller
Session Date: Tuesday, 10 a.m. Day 87 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Me: So, Linus, how have you been feeling lately?
Linus: Did you know Neptune is almost 4.5 billion kilometers away from the sun? It’s wild, right?
Me: That’s fascinating. Space is full of wonders. But how about you? Anything you’ve been thinking about or feeling lately?
Linus: I’ve been thinking about Mars this morning. Guess at what speed it travels around the sun!
Me: I don’t know. Fast, I guess.
Linus: Almost 54,000 miles per hour! Can you imagine?
Me: I can’t. Those are some amazing facts, but Mr. Keller, I’d really like to talk about you. Anything on your mind?
Linus: Not really.
Me: Really, nothing? Do you feel comfortable here?
Linus: I guess so. Food could be better. No offense.
Me: None taken. And you’re right, it definitely could. But how about worries? Uncomfortable emotions? Anything that troubles you?
Linus: It’s just… I love thinking about space. And now I can’t anymore. I guess it’s the medicine.
Me: The medicine prevents you from thinking about space?
Linus: Yeah. I just hope it comes back once I’m off them.
Me: Do you feel like your thoughts are impaired in other ways as well?
Linus: No, I feel fine otherwise. It’s a different kind of thinking.
Me: Different kind of thinking?
Linus: Yeah, it’s… hmm. Maybe ‘thinking’ isn’t the right word. More like knowing.
Me: Could you elaborate on that? What do you mean by ‘knowing’?
Linus: It’s like… I knew where they were.
Me: Where what were?
Linus: Everything. The sun, the moon, the planets. I can’t feel them anymore.
Me: Feel them?
Linus: Yeah. I used to sense them. Stars, planets — I just knew where they were, where they were going. I could feel gravity pulling at them, how space-time bent around the bigger ones. Especially the sun. The sun always felt… amazing.
Me: You could feel the sun?
Linus: Uh-huh. It started after Dad died. Like… they were just there. I could feel them moving, existing. But not anymore.
Me: Since you arrived here?
Linus: Yeah. Since you put me on medication.
Me: Can you describe a little more how it stopped? What that’s like?
Linus: I don’t know… It’s like the whole sky just went dark. I mean, it’s always dark, but… I used to feel them, like a map in my head. And now… nothing.

Can you believe this? I’m convinced I’ve found his ability. Stellar perception. I have no way to prove it, but I believe him. And as always, I can’t even tell him. Not to mention how it makes me feel knowing there is nothing out there for him to sense anymore. I’d much appreciate more advice on how to deal with that.

Dear Dr. Bradford,
I hate that I have to wait a whole week for your replies, being left on my own for any short-term decisions with the Transcenders.
This boy’s background of severe medical conditions makes any real progress nearly impossible. It feels like I’m just managing his symptoms, never actually helping or understanding his ability. His anxiety attacks and seizures make any semblance of therapy almost impossible. And I don’t see a way forward.
He’s still on Clonazepam and Lamotrigine, and I’m reluctant to increase the doses. But without them, therapy is hardly possible. He deteriorates too quickly, always at risk of a panic attack or, worse — a grand mal episode.
Please reconsider the medication and give me updated advice on treatment options. And please do so swiftly, so Charon can bring them across next time.
Warm regards, Octavia.

Attachment

Subject: Frank Čestnik, Age 13
Transcender Parent: Nikola Čestnik
Session Date: Wednesday, 10 a.m. Day 88 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Me: Good morning, Mr. Čestnik. How are you feeling today?
Frank: I… I’m okay, I think. Just a little dizzy.
Me: That’s okay. We can take it slow. Would you like some water?
Frank: No… no, thank you.
Me: If you ever feel uncomfortable, just let me know. We can pause anytime.
Frank: Okay.
Me: Is there anything you’d like to talk about today?
Frank: I don’t know… sometimes I don’t see the point of it all.
Me: I understand. It’s tough. Just take small steps. Only go as far as you can handle.
Frank: But that’s the point, Dr. Regent! Isn’t it? I can’t handle anything! I can’t even do therapy because of my stupid disease!

He was already on the verge of a panic attack.

Me: It’s okay, Mr. Čestnik. Look at me. Let’s take a deep breath together. In… and out… In… and out…

Took him a minute until he recovered.

Frank: Sorry.
Me: There’s nothing to be sorry for. Your frustration is perfectly understandable.
Frank: I want to talk to you. I really do. I just… don’t know how.
Me: We can try what we discussed the other day — adjusting your medication, just enough to help break through the cycle.
Frank: Why am I so broken, Dr. Regent? Why do I need to be put on drugs just to talk? Just talking!
Me: You’re not broken, Mr. Čestnik. You’re dealing with a serious illness, and that’s a hard burden to carry. But you are not broken. Everyone has struggles.
Frank: Yeah, mine are just weirder than everyone else’s.
Me: Trust me, Mr. Čestnik, they’re not.
Frank: Thanks for trying to cheer me up. But I know how flawed I am.
Me: I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that.
Frank: Sorry.
Me: How about we talk about something else?
Frank: Sure. Why not. Just like always.
Me: One step at a time. Tell me about something you enjoy.
Frank: Something I enjoy? I… I don’t know. I actually really like model building. Used to do it with my Dad. But my hands shake now… so it’s not… it’s not fun anymore.

The tremors are getting worse. Possibly anxiety-induced, but an increased dosage should help with that.

Me: That sounds frustrating. Losing something you love because of something outside your control.
Frank: Yeah. Just like my Dad.

We couldn’t continue after that. I had to manage his anxiety. I don’t think we’ve ever made it through a full session. If only I knew what his ability was, maybe I could help…

Dear Dr. Bradford,
I haven’t even gone through the effort of writing a session transcript for eight-year-old Lucy. I simply can’t find any way to connect with the little girl. She seems completely immune to anything I try.
Please give Charon more specialized books on how to communicate with younger patients, because my usual conversational and therapeutic skills simply don’t work with Lucy at all.
I desperately need more guidance. Even as someone with little to no experience with children, I would still dare say she is a very unusual eight-year-old.
I can’t even begin to guess what her ability might be.
As always, seeking your help, Octavia.

Dear Dr. Bradford,
did you review the copy of Grace’s notes on her nightmares yet? I’m eagerly awaiting your professional assessment. I’m starting to form my own theories, but I’d like your psychological evaluation before I settle on anything.
From what I speculate, they are at least part of her ability. She seems to have some form of perception, sensing events unfolding in other realms. And my theory is that they reach her subconscious mind through dreams.
Please tell me if this theory is consistent with your assessment.
Warm regards, Octavia.

Attachment

Subject: Grace Talbot, Age 15
Transcender Parent: Francesca Talbot
Session Date: Thursday, 8 a.m. Day 89 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Me: Good morning, Ms. Talbot. How was your night?
Grace: I think the old medication was better. I could hardly sleep last night.

She was on 10 mg of Zolpidem, and I switched her to 7.5 mg of Eszopiclone.

Me: We could try a slightly higher dose tonight and see if that helps. If it doesn’t, we can return to the previous plan.
Grace: Why did you even switch them in the first place? I was doing okay with the other ones.
Me: Because with the other ones, you couldn’t remember your dreams at all.
Grace: But isn’t that a good thing? I don’t want to remember them. I want them gone!
Me: Just because you can’t remember them doesn’t mean they’re gone. The medication only makes it seem that way. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something, and it’s not my goal to suppress that. It’s just to help you sleep.
Grace: I know… I just wish I could take a break.
Me: I understand. But don’t see them as a burden — try seeing them as a torch in the fog. They can guide you, help you discover or understand something your mind can’t convey directly.
Grace: These dreams, Dr. Regent, they don’t feel like they’re mine. They’re more like a horror movie. I’m not even in them most of the time.
Me: I know. But those images mean something. Like the city you described.
Grace: Do we have to talk about that again?

I know I’m putting pressure on her. But her nightmares are more than just bad dreams. She has seen places in the Underworld, creatures from my world and Hell. The war. And much more. Perhaps some kind of third-eye ability?

Me: You saw fighting in that city, right? At least, that’s what you wrote down. Here’s your phone.

I keep her phone nearby because it seems she can’t remember what she wrote down. Her notes about her dreams are different from her usual way of speaking—more coded, almost like Transcender writing. She wrote them right after waking, likely still in some kind of trance. I need her help to decode them.

Grace: Dr. Regent, I can stare at the lines in my phone all day. It doesn’t help. It’s just fuzzy, distorted images.
Me: But if you had to describe that city, in your words, how would you?
Grace: Big. A metropolis. With huge skyscrapers.
Me: And?
Grace: I don’t know… then it was destroyed.
Me: By this war?
Grace: I think so.

Dr. Bradford, I fear I have to say it. Deep down, I’m terrified this isn’t just a third-eye ability. I fear Grace Talbot has the gift of premonition.
And she sees the downfall of one side of this war. If I had to guess—I believe she sees Hades’ defeat.

Dear Dr. Bradford,
Henrietta is another puzzle. She lies. A lot. I’ve asked her about her family, memories, and interests, but her stories keep changing.
At first, I thought she might be testing me. Now, I’m starting to wonder if she’s trying to cover up something deeper. She seems aware of gaps in her memory and tries to fill them however she can. Could her ability somehow distort reality? Shift it in a way she struggles to keep up with? Or is she simply a compulsive liar?
I’ve attached the transcript for your review.
Warm regards, Octavia.

Attachment

Subject: Henrietta Tennant, Age 15
Transcender Parent: Nicole O’Hara
Session Date: Thursday, 9 a.m. Day 89 of Project AHC.
Session Transcript:

Me: Good morning, Henrietta. How are you feeling today?
Henrietta: I’m fine. Same as always.
Me: I’m glad to hear that. If you’re comfortable, I’d like to revisit something we discussed last time — specifically, the day at the beach with your mom, before she passed.
Henrietta: I don’t know, Dr. Regent. I’m not really comfortable going over it again.
Me: I completely understand. And please know that I don’t want to push you. But I noticed something in what you shared before, and I think exploring it together might help. Would that be okay?
Henrietta: But I already told you, twice.
Me: I know. And that’s exactly what I’d like to ask you about.

She became visibly uncomfortable at this point. As always, I wasn’t sure if I was pushing too hard. Sometimes it’s better to have no idea what their abilities are — no clue which direction to steer the conversation. At least then, I can focus on honest therapy instead of pushing Transcenders toward the information I need.

Me: I think it’s important that we address this, Ms. Tennant.
Henrietta: Fine. What do you want to know?
Me: Last time, you said her favorite spot was by the pier, didn’t you?
Henrietta: Yeah, the pier. We always set up right there.
Me: But the week before, you mentioned she avoided the pier because it was too crowded. You said she preferred a quieter spot and would always make you all walk a long way through the hot sand with the umbrellas and bags to find it.
Henrietta: Did I? Oh, um… I mean… I guess it depended on the day. Sometimes she liked it, sometimes she didn’t.
Me: So on the day she died, did you stay by the pier or walk to a more isolated spot?
Henrietta: I… I don’t know. I can’t remember exactly where we were that day.
Me: That’s completely okay, Ms. Tennant. It’s not unusual for memories to become a little unclear, especially when they’re tied to something painful. But I remember you describing that day so vividly last week — the joy, the sandcastles you built with your brother. Those details seemed so clear.
Henrietta: So maybe I got it wrong yesterday. Why does it matter? I mean, seriously. She died that day! That can mess with someone’s memory!
Me: Absolutely. Grief can deeply affect how we remember things, and it’s completely normal to feel confused. But I also noticed that when you described your day at the pier last time, it felt a bit different. Less personal, almost like you were describing something you’d heard rather than something you lived. Does that make sense?
Henrietta: Are you accusing me of lying?
Me: Not at all. My goal is to help you understand what you’re feeling and experiencing. Sometimes when memories seem inconsistent, it can be a sign of something important — not a fault, just something we might explore together.
Henrietta: Understand what? That I don’t have a perfect memory of the worst day of my life? That I get confused about details? That is so toxic of you!
Me: I hear that you’re feeling upset, and that’s okay. This is hard to talk about. I’m not trying to judge or accuse you. I just want to help you make sense of it all.
Henrietta: No, you don’t! You’re just trying to catch me in a lie!

I suspect she’s intentionally covering something. The inconsistencies are too many and extend beyond her mother’s death, even to trivial details. I’m uncertain whether this is a compulsion or something else entirely.