Psycher Chronicles

Chapter 2

She’s Electric

Dr. Grier watched the little girl with her helmet and gloves enter the office building. In a way she looked like a cross between a space cadet, and a racecar driver. Her clothes were plain and nondescript, which only helped to highlight how odd the gloves and other accessories she wore were.

“Good morning Misha, are you ready?” Dr. Grier asked, going out and personally meeting with Misha.

This time Misha appeared less troubled than she had, the last time they met. Part of this was likely due to the way the old television in the corner and other electronic devices were conveniently left turned off.

“Yes.” Misha said, a somewhat formal tone to her speech as if she was pretending to be royalty, though there was nothing feigned about her movements or posture. Her stance was erect, her movements were graceful. These were all things she had missed the last time the girl was here, as all of those facets were completely overshadowed by how her accessories that detracted from her actual bearing.

As the pair made their way back to her office, Dr. Grier watched the mother for any signs of grace or regal bearing in her posture. To no real surprise, Andrea, the mother, did not show any signs of the grace that was now on display by the young patient. That is what this girl was this time, a patient, not a key witness for a multiple murder investigation that was still ongoing, but a true patient. One who would be treated and helped as needed.

When the pair entered her office, Dr. Grier once again witnessed the girl make a quick movement with her hands. Followed immediately by an audible click, on the far side of the room.

This time Dr. Grier was certain that the video would be turned off for this session. Did it mean that the girl had something to hide? Or was it something more innocuous, like the girl clearly not liking the exposure of electromagnetic waves as she claimed.

The mother went to a chair on the far end of the room, out of direct sight, but still positioned where she could see everything that was happening to her daughter.

Misha, the daughter, for her part just found a slightly raised section of carpet and gracefully slid down into a crossed-legged stance almost effortlessly. Once again, the girl chose not to sit in one of the comfy chairs that had been set up around the room. Nor did she reach for any of the toys and manipulatives that were right next to her. Instead, she just sat down and apparently stared straight forward at an empty wall.

“Hello Misha, it has been a while.” Dr. Grier began.

“Twenty-five days and twenty-three hours.” Misha said, nodding her head in agreement.

Dr. Grier doing a quick look at her calendar realized that the statement was accurate. This was yet another subtle sign of the brilliance of the girl, which was something that Dr. Grier decided she would go back on, for now she wanted to hear from the girl what her day was like.

“Yes, yes it has. Now today is a Thursday, can you tell me what a typical day of yours looks like?” Dr. Grier asked.

“I get up, make my bed. Shower, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, then do a set of stretches.”

“Stretches, do you mean like yoga?” Dr. Grier asked, having already heard this from the mother, but was confused when she heard this.

Misha paused, thinking about the words, but then shaking her head. “No, that would probably be the closest, but I focus on awakening my own channels.”

“Channels?”

“Yes, energy channels. I’ve found that stretching in the morning, noon, and night is best for awakening my body’s full potential.” Misha said, then almost subconsciously she began to move her hands in that semi-rhythmic fashion that she had the previous time she was here.

“Like you are doing now?” Dr. Grier asked.

Pausing, Misha looked almost shocked that she had been moving. “Yes, though the stretches I do in the morning are a lot more intense.”

At that Andrea nodded her head in agreement. Again, more things to go back to, as Dr. Grier really wanted to know about what intense meant, but there were somethings that she wanted to get to. Some agenda items that were specifically asked for by mom to cover, which Dr. Grier was more than happy to help with.

“So you stretch, then what?”

“I go to school, come back, stretch, do my homework, work out, then I do my chores, meditate on my actions for the day, before stretching one last time, then I go to bed.” Misha said.

Hearing all that, Dr. Grier found herself locking eyes with Andrea, only for her to nod her head vigorously in agreement. Her eyes were wide and expressive, showing that she too would have a hard time believing it, if she didn’t witness it every day.

“Wow, there is a lot to unpack there. But I want to focus on some of the things you noted. You said you workout?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe your typical workout?”

“I generally do an assortment of planks, pushups, squats, sit-ups, burpies, before going into my throwing routines. Then I run movement drills, then a few cool down pushups and squats.” Misha said, stating things as fact that once again the mother just nodded her head in agreement about.

“Throwing drills?” Dr. Grier found herself asking.

“Yes, I practice for both baseball and basketball. Given that they are two different sized spheres and two different objectives to aim for, they require different training conditions.”

“Now you said baseball, not softball?”

“Right, there are no professional softball teams that are televised.”

“So your goal with this is to get recognition?”

At that Misha paused. “No, I just know that traditionally male dominated sports get better scholarship opportunities, than other sports.”

“So your goal is to eventually get a scholarship for college?”

“One of my goals, yes.”

Hearing that Dr. Grier was honestly impressed. “What do you intend to major when you get to college?”

“Engineering.” Misha said but said so with a faint hint of disdain in her voice.

Seeing the way her hands were covered with modified gloves and a weirdly insulated helmet, Dr. Grier could see the engineering angle of interest, but there was something about her response that made Dr. Grier ask more questions. “Don’t you normally dislike most electrical products?”

Huff.

At that the girl let out an audible sigh of annoyance. “Yes, which is why I intend to revolutionize the process and switch from basic electrical circuits to crystalline substrates.”

“This will cut down on the amount of electrical energy being released?”

“Yes, though probably not enough to make a true difference.” Misha said.

Again, there was a lot there, but Misha had said something earlier, and it was a topic that her mother had also expressed a great deal of interest in knowing the truth about.

“Going back to something you said earlier. You said you work out in Baseball and Basketball both because you could get recognized.” Dr. Grier said.

Shaking her head, Misha corrected. “No, I said, I just know that traditionally male dominated sports get better scholarship opportunities, than other sports.”

Misha said, quoting verbatim what she had said prior. “Right, but there was the implied undertone, or what others could assume was implied in that by doing this, you would be recognized. Is that fair to state?”

Hearing that Misha paused, then shruggingly answered. “Of course, people aren’t going to provide additional funds for sports that no one wishes to see. As such, it only makes sense that the sports that are watched more are better funded.”

“Now I am led to believe that these were also the sports that you watched with your father?” Dr. Grier asked, trying to pose the topic lightly, but in her heart she knew this subject could go wild in a second.

“Yes.”

“Your father was also the same one who first showed you how to practice for both sports right?”

“That is correct.”

“Do you think that by practicing these sports you will eventually be able to bring back your father?”

At that Misha shook her head and looked squarely at Dr. Grier as if she had gone mad. The look would have normally elicited a laugh from the doctor, as her entire demeanor was so incongruous, her shocked look, along with the fact that she was wearing a helmet that covered most of her face and eyes.

“No, I know it won’t bring him back. He is in a slum house outside of Vegas with an escort laying next to him.” Misha answered.

Hearing all of this, Dr. Grier’s first reaction was to look at the mother. The obvious thought would be, what is she letting this girl watch at home? While other kids are watching Sesame Street, she is apparently watching one of the many vice homicide shows? Then the details of whom she was talking to, and her mind cleared up for a moment. That and the look of shock that the mother had on her face, as she too apparently wondered where that idea came from.

“You don’t watch crime shows on television do you?”

Disgust.

The girl looked visibly disgusted by the suggestion, “no, that stuff rots your brain.”

Hearing that Dr. Grier asked the next most obvious question, to see if there was an answer there. “Did one of your friends at school tell you about a show they watched.”

Scoff.

With that Misha just scoffed in utter discontent at the question. Before she could reply, Andrea cut in. “Misha doesn’t have many friends at school.”

“Is that true?” Dr. Grier asked, a note of sadness filling her as she realized that making friends would be hard for anyone. Let alone a bright and intelligent girl like her, with her quirks.

“They are all insipid, playing in the dirt, bragging about how long they were allowed to rot their brains.” Misha said, disdain was evident in her voice. Disdain and possibly something else. It was clear that this was something that Dr. Grier could help the girl work with.

“Do you get made fun of because of the way you dress?”

“You mean, do they not understand my need to protect myself?” She said, holding up her gloved hands for display. “Then yes.”

“Why do you need to protect yourself? I mean I get that televisions and other electronic devices set you off. I get that, but this seems to be deeper than just mere electronic devices, as you are wearing it here even now, in what should be a safe space.” Dr. Grier asked.

With that Misha slumped her shoulders at the comment. “I am working on my tolerances, but it is taking longer than expected.”

“Do you feel empowered by wearing the helmet? Does it make you feel like you are a superhero? Or an astronaut?” Dr. Grier pressed.

“I don’t feel powerful with the helmet, but the different rays and frequencies really hurt when I don’t have the helmet on.” Misha said.

At this point Andrea cut in, “when she was young she would cry uncontrollably when the microwave was on, nearly going into a panic attack every time I tried to heat her meals.”

“Has that gone away?” Dr. Grier asked.

Misha just shook her head.

“No, now I just tell her that I am about to use the microwave and she generally goes to her room or outside. Somehow, she comes back after the microwave is done, even if she is too far away to hear the dinging sound.” Andrea said.

At this Dr. Grier was really intrigued, as the whole thing seemed fantastical, but it clearly was happening and was a major thing for this little girl.

Hearing this, Dr. Grier decided to try to offer up some form of advice to the little girl.

“Have you tried working on ways to improve your resistance to these electronic waves? I mean the waves are not going away, meaning before you start your industrial revolution, you will need to be resilient to these sensations you are experiencing. Maybe think of building some type of mental armor that protects you from this?” Dr. Grier asked, trying to pose something that might possibly help in this situation.

“Mental resistance to electronic and magnetic wavelengths?” Misha said to herself, clearly pondering the answer, as she put her hand up to her chin in contemplation. Then nodding to herself, Misha quickly unclasped her helmet from around her head. Then let the helmet rest in her lap.

As the helmet went away, Dr. Grier was left speechless at the beautiful girl who sat there with sandy brown hair and deep green eyes just staring off into the distance. Then closing her eyes, she seemed to focus.

Chills.

There was a slight tingling sensation that ran down the back of Dr. Grier’s neck as she felt the energy of the room suddenly change. This wasn’t the same change that happens with emotional shifts of subjects, something she was well used to seeing.

Instead, this was more a shift in the actual energy of the room, as if suddenly every molecule of energy within the room was forced to stand still.

Zzap.

BOOM!

There was an electrical burst, followed by what had to be the explosion of the building’s large transformer exploding outside. Then darkness settled over most of the room. Fortunately, it was still daylight out, but Dr. Grier would never forget what she saw next.

The girl’s eyes glowed with a golden color for a second, then she turned to face Dr. Grier. Their eyes met, and for a moment Dr. Grier thought she could see something more. Every muscle in her body told her to get up and go to the girl, to help her, but fear gripped her. Held her tight and forced her to just watch on. Then finally, the girl blinked, the electricity in her eyes faded, and she passed out.

Shock.

Dr. Grier just sat there in shock for a second, just watching the girl slump forward, her legs still locked in the lotus position. Though now her body was slumped forward, head pressed against the ground, back bowed, and legs resting on the ground.

Whir.

There was the sound of a mechanical whirring happening, then slowly the lights and power went back on, revealing the small form of Misha on the ground. Her helmet still clutched in her stomach.

Seeing the girl who clearly was passed out in her office, Dr. Grier immediately went over to her, and began trying help her.

“Misha!” Andrea too was also scrambling forward as she made it to her daughter just a second before Dr. Grier could.

In seconds Andrea began strapping the helmet back on her daughter, unhooked her legs and began laying the little girl back to rest in her lap.

During this time Dr. Grier called emergency services, trying to make sure she didn’t lose her first patient she was treating while in her office. Let alone one who seemed to have as much talent as Misha did.

“Hello, this is emergency dispatch, what is the emergency?”

“Hi, my name is Dr. Grier, and one of my patients has passed out during the middle of our session.”

Somehow the words came through her, as she felt the words flow out of her as if she was just a conduit for the information. Her voice and tone felt stripped of all emotion, as she tried to give as many facts and details as possible to get the emergency services here as quickly as possible.