Chapter 9: Truth Therapy

SpringSummer

Truth Therapy

Although the room was cool, Dr. Wu sweated profusely. He had never before encountered a patient as resistant to Truth Therapy as Delbert Wayne Duncan. Dr. Wu's truth protocol usually started with the least intrusive methods. Subliminal messages that said the word "confess" throughout the day's audio output. A one per 5 second interval vocalization that slowed to 6 second intervals and then 7 seconds until at last, there were 15 seconds between subliminal pleas to "confess."

Then, like a distended rubber band the rhythm snapped back until there were two suggestions per second. Then the elastic would be stretched once more. A few days of this and the patient was more amenable to copping a to whatever complicity was being offered.

Should the subliminals fail, as they had done so with Delbert Wayne Duncan, Dr. Wu proceeded to Phase II. Delbert Wayne Duncan had earned videogram privileges and The Unit archived them as a courtesy to their inmates. Dr. Wu had used a new copy of Videomorph to fabricate screen to screen conversation with first Robby James and later Steven Dale.

"Why don't you come clean, Dad? Why not just tell them what you did so you can come home?"

Delbert Wayne Duncan was tricked by the technology but he stayed resolute. "Do not discuss the case," he would say pausing on every word for emphasis.

The faux sons would tell their father how much they missed him. They would tell him that their mother cried at night. That mean kids bullied them and they needed their father to sharpen their fighting skills.

Delbert Wayne Duncan would choke back the tears. He never wanted his sons see him cry. He would review martial arts skills he had already taught his sons. He would dish out fatherly advice but if one of the kids mentioned, "the case," Delbert Wayne Duncan would terminate the call.

Dr. Wu looked around his cramped battleship gray workstation. He moved to tablets from a travel size aspirin bottle in with a fluid motion he covered his mouth in a mock yawn and placed the pills on his tongue. He clutched a 16 ounce plastic cup of water and swallowed the contents.

The pills were not aspirin. Dr. Wu purchased large quantities of the underground drug called Smart, a cognition enhancer that was unfortunately, highly illegal. Dr. Wu took the precautionary measure of compressing yellow – brown powder into tablets that resembled salicylic acid. He even imprinted the word "ASPIRIN" in a circular pattern.

Amerijail policy prohibited personnel from bringing OTC's onto the Unit, to say nothing of illegal Drugs like Smart. But if one of the coaches found a few aspirin on Dr. Wu and he claimed that he had a terrible headache and without aspirin vital work could not be performed for Ms. Watkins, the matter would be resolved swiftly and quietly without a lot of fuss.

Dr. Steven Wu turned to see the diminutive Mindy Watkins standing in the doorway, arms crossed in a display of frustration. He had greeted her earlier today. No need to say hello every time they crossed paths.

Mindy Watkins may Dr. Wu feel uneasy even when she was in a good mood. Visibly frustrated, she challenged Dr. Wu's Asian stoicism. The windowed closet was a bit claustrophobic even without someone blocking the doorway. When that someone was a flaming redhead in a green dress with brass buttons, the situation seemed even more confining.

"Did you have a nice lunch?" Dr. Wu asked. Silence.

Dr. Wu would never get used to the red hair. He had grown up in Nashville an immigrant family and spent most of his time with other Chinese-Americans. Young Steven Wu was intrigued with blonde hair and black skin but he had never seen a redhead until he was 15. A Goliath of an adolescent with tangerine hair walked up to his friend Lon as they waited for a school bus.

For no apparent reason the freckled behemoth with sharp, pointy flames extended his tennis racquet hand and knocked Lon's books to the ground. Then as Lon tried to pick up his belongings, the redhead kicked in stomped on the books. Young Steven thought that he might be next but one of the brute's followers pointed to something down the street and they dashed off in that direction. Steven Wu never forgot the expression on the monster's face and he would never feel comfortable around gingers of either sex.

"Not everyone responsive to religious stimuli," Dr. Wu said nervously. He was American-born but Steven Wu spent most of his formative years with immigrants and his dialect was a bit third world at times. At college he trained himself to pay attention to things like tense and articles and infinitives and possessive nouns and pronouns. He had made strides but when he got flustered he sometimes reverted to earlier habits of speech.

Dr. Wu glanced at Mindy Watkins who remained as calm as a scarecrow..

"Voice of God work ninety nine per cent.”

Silence.

"We tweaked the God. Use Jesus instead of Old Testament guy... Not everyone know God of Abraham."

Briefly, Dr. Wu wondered if Mindy Watkins had turned into a pillar of salt. She was as motionless as she was muted. Had she died on her feet with her eyes open?

"Now, sons beg father to confess crimes. Look. See," he said pointing past Mindy Watkins.

Mindy Watkins turned and approached the table but positioned herself out of Delbert Wayne Duncan's line of vision. A new nurse suit-- the only model crafted to resemble a nubile woman, Nurse Cynthia-- was a 7 foot brunette who purred and cooed when she talked. She was equipped with soft hands that warmed to 110°Fahrenheit.

The model was currently operated by a diminutive African-American man named Willie Divine. Pressing Delbert Wayne Duncan's left hand into her ball glove extremities, Willie made the model purr like an oversized kitten.

Sweat poured from the patient on the table. Confession patients expressed no pain but their hearts would race and they sometimes endured panic attacks when they prepared for a second treatment. Delbert Wayne Duncan had grown pale and he seemed to shiver ever so slightly.

"Would you like to make a confession, Delbert?"

"Hell no!" he roared.

Dr. Wu felt his lunch returning and dashed to the waste can in the cramped office. Once. Twice. Once more. He knelt on the floor and looked up to see Mindy Watkins standing over him.

"You are paid for results, Dr. Wu," she stated with exaggerated calm. Then she was gone.