Read Online The Reality Conspiracy by Joseph A. Citro - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph A. Citro
Tags: Horror
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existence. Or try playing hide-and-seek with one of the gangs. Or . . . Hey, I didn't hear anything about 'beautiful city' when that taxicab almost flattened you this morning."
Karen laughed.
"So tell me, Dr. Bradley, what is so important that you would risk life and limb on the mean streets of our state's capitol? Are you planning a career change? Interviewing for a job, perhaps? Thinking of forsaking your pastoral paradise and relocating to Beautiful Bean Town?"
Karen dabbed her garlic and lemon sauce with a piece of crusty bread, popped it into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "I'm here for a case consultation. I came to confer with a psychiatrist named Stanley Gudhausen. Dr. Gudhausen is a world-class authority on Multiple Personality Disorderâ"
"Like The Three Faces of Eve ? That kind of thing?"
"Yes. Just exactly. MPD is still considered somewhat rare, but I think I've diagnosed it in a patient of mine back home."
Karen forced herself to stop before she told him any more. Of course, she was eager to discuss the incredible coincidenceâif coincidence it wasâof two completely unconnected patients, two hundred miles apart, who both manifested the same alternate personality. The "Splitfoot" alters were completely identical right down to the name, the facial characteristics, even the patterns of speech. It wasn't that discussing the cases with Jeffâin only the most general termsâwas a violation of either patient's rights. It was simply too soon. She'd wait until after her second meeting with Dr. Gudhausen tomorrow; then she could talk about it all he wanted.
"So, that's me," she said, rerouting the conversation. "Now, how about telling me something about your work?"
Before Jeff could begin, the waiter came around to ask if he could bring another bottle of Chablis. Jeff held up his hand, asking the waiter to wait. Then to Karen, "My turn to get third-degreed, huh? Do you want the complete or the abridged version?"
"Oh, complete, by all means."
To the waiter: "Then yes please, we'll need at least one more bottle,"
The waiter responded with a brief emphatic nod, and vanished.
"Well, let's see. I'm employed by the Massachusetts Technological Academyâwe call it the 'Academy' for short, that way we don't confuse it with the Metropolitan Transit Authority . . . ."
"Like 'Charlie on the MTA'?"
"You got it." He chuckled'. "The Academy is a privately run think tank that prospers only because of the American taxpayer's supreme sense of generosity, and the government's willingness to keep the public as generous as possible."
"Do I detect a well-disguised note of skepticism?"
"Oh God, is it that obvious? No, it just irks me the way our leaders continue to squander tax dollars on any crackpot enterprise that can even remotely be termed 'related' to the almighty D." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "The D stands for De-fense."
"You don't sound like a man who loves his job."
"There you go, playing shrink again. Whatever gave you the idea I don't like my job?" He held up both hands, palms toward Karen, and assumed a wide-eyed expression of innocence. "Am I really that transparent?"
"An open book. What do you do there?"
"Well, most people consider it 'Top Secret.' Do I have your word you won't violate the doctor-patient confidence?"
"You have my word. I swear it on my DSM-III-R."
Jeff's expression suddenly became serious. As he sipped his wine, a faraway look darkened his face. He spoke quietly. "Among other things, we're into UFO research."
Karen suppressed a laugh. Her hand shot to her lips, trying to keep the wine in her mouth.
"What's so funny?" Jeff pretended to take offense. "I didn't laugh at your multiple personality stuff."
"It was so . . . well . . . it was so completely unexpected. You're not serious, are you?"
"Of course I'm not serious, but I'm telling the truth."
"About the UFOs?"
"Yup."
"You don't believe in them, do you? I mean people from outer space
Karen laughed.
"So tell me, Dr. Bradley, what is so important that you would risk life and limb on the mean streets of our state's capitol? Are you planning a career change? Interviewing for a job, perhaps? Thinking of forsaking your pastoral paradise and relocating to Beautiful Bean Town?"
Karen dabbed her garlic and lemon sauce with a piece of crusty bread, popped it into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "I'm here for a case consultation. I came to confer with a psychiatrist named Stanley Gudhausen. Dr. Gudhausen is a world-class authority on Multiple Personality Disorderâ"
"Like The Three Faces of Eve ? That kind of thing?"
"Yes. Just exactly. MPD is still considered somewhat rare, but I think I've diagnosed it in a patient of mine back home."
Karen forced herself to stop before she told him any more. Of course, she was eager to discuss the incredible coincidenceâif coincidence it wasâof two completely unconnected patients, two hundred miles apart, who both manifested the same alternate personality. The "Splitfoot" alters were completely identical right down to the name, the facial characteristics, even the patterns of speech. It wasn't that discussing the cases with Jeffâin only the most general termsâwas a violation of either patient's rights. It was simply too soon. She'd wait until after her second meeting with Dr. Gudhausen tomorrow; then she could talk about it all he wanted.
"So, that's me," she said, rerouting the conversation. "Now, how about telling me something about your work?"
Before Jeff could begin, the waiter came around to ask if he could bring another bottle of Chablis. Jeff held up his hand, asking the waiter to wait. Then to Karen, "My turn to get third-degreed, huh? Do you want the complete or the abridged version?"
"Oh, complete, by all means."
To the waiter: "Then yes please, we'll need at least one more bottle,"
The waiter responded with a brief emphatic nod, and vanished.
"Well, let's see. I'm employed by the Massachusetts Technological Academyâwe call it the 'Academy' for short, that way we don't confuse it with the Metropolitan Transit Authority . . . ."
"Like 'Charlie on the MTA'?"
"You got it." He chuckled'. "The Academy is a privately run think tank that prospers only because of the American taxpayer's supreme sense of generosity, and the government's willingness to keep the public as generous as possible."
"Do I detect a well-disguised note of skepticism?"
"Oh God, is it that obvious? No, it just irks me the way our leaders continue to squander tax dollars on any crackpot enterprise that can even remotely be termed 'related' to the almighty D." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "The D stands for De-fense."
"You don't sound like a man who loves his job."
"There you go, playing shrink again. Whatever gave you the idea I don't like my job?" He held up both hands, palms toward Karen, and assumed a wide-eyed expression of innocence. "Am I really that transparent?"
"An open book. What do you do there?"
"Well, most people consider it 'Top Secret.' Do I have your word you won't violate the doctor-patient confidence?"
"You have my word. I swear it on my DSM-III-R."
Jeff's expression suddenly became serious. As he sipped his wine, a faraway look darkened his face. He spoke quietly. "Among other things, we're into UFO research."
Karen suppressed a laugh. Her hand shot to her lips, trying to keep the wine in her mouth.
"What's so funny?" Jeff pretended to take offense. "I didn't laugh at your multiple personality stuff."
"It was so . . . well . . . it was so completely unexpected. You're not serious, are you?"
"Of course I'm not serious, but I'm telling the truth."
"About the UFOs?"
"Yup."
"You don't believe in them, do you? I mean people from outer space
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