“Please, take a seat right over there, Jack. I’ll only take a few moments to enter your paperwork.” Two men entered the bland, white-walled room. The gentleman in wire-framed glasses was clean shaven, with gel-spiked dark brown hair, and wore a simple navy blue suit. He moved to sit behind an L-shaped desk with two monitors on it. As he sat, he gestured to the couch across from him, and began typing away at his computer.

Jack, on the other hand, was in a red Coca-Cola T-shirt paired with dark blue jeans and black Vans. They were all freshly bought, and Jack felt out of place wearing something so new for the first time in almost six years. His roughly combed up hair was dark, and had just been cut last week; it felt odd to Jack, not feeling an itch at all times. As he sat down where he was told, Jack looked about the room.

It was rather plain. A generic oil painting depicting a dime-a-dozen beach scene hung behind him. Behind the man currently typing up a storm was a fairly empty bookcase covering half the wall, and a world map hanging above it. High against the wall to his right was a pair of shelves, but these were all empty save for two books: a Holy Bible and a Webster’s Dictionary.

Having finished his examination of the room, Jack felt the silence begin to set. He settled on gazing out the window to his left. It was a quarter to three in the afternoon, and the drop-down blackout curtains were pulled up, letting in the warmth of the spring sun. With the room on the second story, Jack could see an overgrown field that looked as if it hadn’t been maintained in years. A four-legged, white figure stood along the edge in the distance.

“What’s that? On the far end of the field, over there,” he asked.

“That’s Shiro.” The gentleman stopped typing to look out the window as well. “Or, that’s my name for her, at least. I think it’s a her? It’s my first week here, so I’m not sure if she’s someone’s pet or a wild mountain goat, but she seems to frequent the field either way.” With that, he went back to staring at his computer screen.

“Uh-huh…” Jack replied with a slow nod. He shifted in place, trying to find a comfortable position on the leather couch. It was a swampy-green, and had stiff seats with black pillows up against both of the square arms. He winced as a feather poking out from one of the pillows stabbed his arm. After pulling it out and flicking the small white feather to the floor, he placed the pillow opposite him on the couch to join its identical partner.

“I know, I’m sorry,” the man in the suit said, without looking over from behind his monitor. “It’s not the most pleasant seating arrangement. I’m trying to get them to bring me something that won’t hurt after sitting for more than half an hour, since these sessions should be lasting twice as long as that.”

Jack kept quiet, looking around the room again. He noticed a few pins in the world map, but couldn’t deduce any rhyme or reason for them. The large bookshelf seemed to be lined with psychology books, some a couple inches thick. The loud clacking from the worn out keyboard was the only noise fighting off the silence of the room.

When he was done with the computer, the gentleman pushed his glasses back up his nose with his index finger, and shifted to his left so as to not hide behind the computer screen. He picked up what looked like a remote from his desk, a black wire winding around to the computer underneath. He clicked a button, and a small beep was heard. “Today’s date is Monday, April 10th, 2028. This marks my first session with Jack Turner,” he said, speaking into it. 

“Is a recording thingy really necessary?” Jack asked.

“It’s either this, or having one of my supervisors and a guard sit in with us. And while I’m sure they’d just love to meet you, I get the feeling they’d make this already tight room feel a bit too claustrophobic.” As he placed the recorder on the desk, he pulled a clipboard out from a drawer and a pen from his shirt pocket before finally meeting Jack’s eyes. “So, Mr. Turner. Shall we start with introductions, then? Your name, age, what you do, where you’re from, or anything important you want to share?”

“Sure, I guess,” Jack shrugged.

“We can skip the finer details for now, if you’d like. I just think it’d be best if we got to know each other, before anything else. Properly, I mean. I know I’ve got your records and paperwork and all, but that feels a bit…impersonal, I suppose.”

Jack thought for a brief moment, then shrugged. “Alright yeah, sure. I’m Jack Turner. Friends call me Jackie. I’ll be twenty-six as of next month. Jobless now, of course. And I'm from… New York.” Jack let out a sigh as he finished. His shoulders noticeably sagged, and he turned his gaze out the window once more. 

“Why the pause before New York?” 

“Nuh-uh,” Jack said with a raised finger, still keeping watch on the grazing goat outside. “I did my part. It’s your turn to introduce yourself, right? Before anything else?”

“That’s– no, sorry. Getting ahead of myself I suppose.” The man made a note on his clipboard. “I am William Carbide, but please call me Will. I’m twenty-eight, and from Southern California. I graduated last year from San Francisco University, and am currently acting as the psychologist for just under a dozen or so folks here at this facility.”

“So…you’re a pretty recently graduated psych doc then, hmm?” Jack asked, turning to give a quizzitive look to William.

“Not quite,” he replied, a pained expression showing on his face for a moment. “Psychiatrists go to medical school after their undergraduate studies, then they have to complete a residency, etcetera. I’m just a psychologist with a Master's degree. In some jurisdictions, that’s all you need to practice. And in other cases, that’s all they’re looking for.”

“Sure, okay,” Jack said, nodding. “But then… that’s what, a year at most that you’ve been actually doing this?”

“Just over half a year, actually. Had to find somewhere to work first, and that took several months. Then I had some… issues with previous clients before I got offered this position, had to move here, etcetera.”

“I see…” Jack said, trailing off. He eyed William skeptically, but didn’t say anything else.

“Yes, well, that’s enough about me!” William said, rapping his pen softly against the clipboard. “We’re here for you, Jack! And you seem a bit anxious, right now. Are you worried about something? What’s got you so fidgety right now?”

“Uhh, yeah. Maybe just a bit,” Jack replied, making a conscious effort to stop his feet from bouncing. “I mean, given everything that’s happened the last few months, who wouldn’t have something bothering them?”

“I know, these last few months have been rather hectic for everyone involved. For you and the others in particular, I’m sure. If there’s anything you need or are concerned about, please let the facility’s staff know.”

“It’s not that, Doc,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I mean it is, but that’s… I’m not worried about me. Not right now, at least. I’m fine.”

“And what do you mean by ‘fine’?” William asked, making another note on his clipboard. "Like you said, everyone has something bothering them. Big, small, anything in between. With all that's been going on, are you sure you're 'fine,' or might you just be telling yourself that?" Jack thought for a moment before responding.

“...I’ll survive, Doc. So yeah, I'm fine.”

“Is that enough, though?”

“Is what enough?”

“Just ‘surviving’; is that really enough? Shouldn’t you want to be ‘living’, instead?”

“I don’t–” Jack started, but cut himself short. He held a clenched fist to his mouth, trying to keep it from shaking too much. After a moment, he swallowed and shook his head, not meeting William’s eyes. “Next question.”

“No problem,” William said with a wave of his hand. “If anything is too much, for any reason, please feel free to let me know and we can continue onwards.” Jack nodded silently, looking around the room quickly, hoping to find something he’d missed.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

“Gah, dang it!” William snapped his fingers holding the pen. “I knew I was forgetting something. No, I’m sorry. There’s a vending machine downstairs though, if you need something. It’s free of charge.”

“No, thank you,” Jack replied. He chuckled. “I’ll survive.”

“If you say so,” William said, returning a smile. “Have you sought psychological help before? You seem a bit more situated than most people first stepping into an office like this.”

“Oh man,” Jack said with a tired sigh. “That would have been… sixteen years ago? Fifteen? I can’t recall exactly. I just remembered there was a bullying incident at school and a few of us were recommended to see a therapist for a month or two.”

“Did you want to–”

“I could not care less about that right now, no,” Jack said, firmly shaking his head.

“Alright then.” William jotted something on his clipboard, and continued. “Going back to what you were saying before, then: what are you worried about if not yourself?”

"Uh, well to start Doc, I…”  Jack hesitated. He’d kept quiet these past few months, unsure how anything he said might have affected things. He managed to avoid telling anyone anything, even the authorities. Especially people with authority; but now, he could feel the pressure wearing him thin. “You’re not, like, sharing any of this with anyone, right? Nothing leaves this room?” 

“Unless I deem it absolutely necessary for somebody’s immediate safety. But in such a case, I would still personally let you know beforehand. Otherwise, everything is between you, me, and this recorder connected to my computer.” He pulled the recorder up and showed there was a thin wire running from the bottom of the device to the underside of the desk. “It’s for me, and me only. As soon as a recording is saved to my computer, the audio files on the device get deleted. Also, the file on my computer housing copies of the audio logs needs a password to open. Secrecy is top priority right now, so don’t worry, nothing leaves this room.” Jack stared intently at William for a few moments. “Or gets discussed in the room with anyone but the person who shared the information, etcetera. You know what I mean!”

Jack let a smile show briefly. “Well, in that case… I’m worried about my friends, to start." 

"Of course! Who wouldn’t be? Family found is family sound, after all.”

Jack furrowed his brows. “I have never heard that before. Is that a new thing people say? I don’t get it.”

“So new I made it up just now, actually.” Jack let out a soft chuckle at that. “You’re not the only one with jokes, here,” William said, smiling to himself. He made another note on the clipboard. “It’s a play on the often misunderstood phrase, ‘blood is thicker than water.’ The less known, full expression is actually ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,’ and that’s exactly what I mean by what I said. The relationships we make with friends, and the people who we grow close enough to call family by choice; they can be just as important or even more valuable than the relationships we are born into, just by being related. Not to say family can’t be important, of course, but for some folks, friends are where they find their real family.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied with a smile. “My friends, they’re… well, something else, to be sure. Not quite sure what, but family… yeah, actually, that sounds about right.”