CHAPTER THREE

In the ivy-covered office at the top of the institution---

"I can't believe it," Dr. Singh says, clipped and British. "I simply cannot believe it." His brown-and-white hands steeple themselves on the desk as he regards her parents.

Adele's mother, Trinity's mother, shakes her head, tears coming down her face. She dabs them away with a crumpled Kleenex, then sniffs. "It's too good to be true…"

"She should be lost. When no drugs help a patient that delusional, certainly there is nothing mere humans can do to bring them back. Whatever kind of stimulus did you give her? How did you do it, Mrs. Dubois?"

"I told you, nothing, Doctor. Nothing out of the ordinary. We just sat and talked to her like we usually do... Right, Mabel?"

"Yes, Jim. Well…" She hesitates.

"Go on---," says Dr. Singh, leaning forward in his leather chair.

"Well…I did, um, shake her a little," she admits, staring out the window. "Would that…"

"I wouldn't think so," the doctor says, the chair squeaking as he eases back. "No, there has to be some logical explanation for this."

"Like what? What could have made her snap sane again?" says the father. He squints suspiciously. "You're sure you didn't run any kinds of experiments without us knowing. Think real hard, now."

"No, no, nothing," says the doctor, preoccupied. "We…ah…can't know for sure, Mr. Dubois. We will, of course, be running some tests on your daughter to see what could possibly have happened---"

"Like what?" Her mother looks back at Dr. Singh.

"We can't say for sure, probably a brain scan or others, look at her chemistry. Also a polygraph, maybe a couple---"

"A polygraph," the mother says softly, incredulously. "A polygraph, Doctor. So you think…you think she was lying all these years?" Her voice rises and trembles. "You honestly believe she would do that to us, she'd lie to her own mother and father? She would pretend to be out of her mind? For what, Dr. Singh? What possible reason could there be?"

"Mabel, calm yourself," her father says through his teeth. "I'm sure the doctor has to investigate all angles."

"Exactly, madam," says Dr. Singh. "With a recovery this incredible, we have to take all necessary precautions to ensure that it is in fact a bona fide medical—well, I won't call it a miracle but it is certainly an awesome thing. I'm sure you both understand this?"

"Yes---yes, of course," her mother says. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"Understandable. You have been through quite the ordeal."

Meanwhile, Adele is sitting on the end of the bed, her head resting in her hands. Absentmindedly, she fingers her wet hair, which now hangs long against the dressing gown's back, making wet streaks on its frayed brown terry cloth.

None of which is, of course, real. She tries to see the code for the hundredth time and fails.

"It's got to be a trick. Got to be," she whispers forcefully.

Think, Trinity, think. What do I remember before seeing my parents? Nothing. Why can't I? What did they do? Or what did I do? Was I in the Matrix? Did I get captured or reinserted? Agents…It has to be something like Agents, because why would my residual self-image have changed unless they've messed with it? Only…why would they change it to--

No, this is insane. It doesn't make sense. None of it. Hell, I'm insane. All that was me imagining, and that's why it's not logical since when are dreams ever logical—but sometimes they are. God damn it!

I can't think today and I need to and I can't seem to. Why can't I? Too much at stake, I guess. If I choose the Matrix maybe I'm just sitting here nuts for the rest of my life. But I choose this and it's a program? Then the machines beat me. Can't let them do that. Though--- don't want to fool myself either.

She moans slightly and clenches the hair tighter.

Oh, Dr. Warner. You did nothing for me. You're either a really bad program, or a really lousy psychiatrist, because either way you just confused me more---

She goes over the meeting in her mind and tries to suck any information possible from it.

The anorexically thin doctor had been sitting on a red leather chair, one knee daintily over the other, wristlike ankle and ladylike pointed toe. Her shoes were the kind that looked like you could hear her walking from a floor below, all sharp heel and hard bottom. They were obnoxiously expensive-looking and sexy for a shrink, all brown alligator and stiletto. A clipboard was held in her wraithlike ringed hands as they flew frantically over a pad of paper. Even though Trinity hadn't said anything yet.

Finally the doctor set it down on her lap and folded her mauve two-inch claws delicately atop it. "So! Adele," she had said brightly, singsonging. "I'm Dr. Warner. Do you remember me?"

"Should I?" Trinity replied, but couldn't decide whether to be sardonic or actually ask the question.

"Why, Adele, I'm hurt!" She laughed twitteringly. "What about our—oh, it must have been hundreds of weekly sessions? Do you remember any of those at all? You'd be off staring at the walls or piloting your 'hovercraft' while I just looked on. I laughed so hard when you'd try a spinning kick! Why, sometimes you'd look right at me and talk to me, and my pen would be positively overheated, but then you'd ruin it all by calling me Cypher. I could have killed you!" She giggled again. Trinity didn't really feel like joining her.

"No," she said flatly. "I don't remember any of it." And Cypher's dead, she had felt like adding, but didn't.

"Ah," said Dr. Warner. She grabbed her clipboard again and wrote hastily in pink ballpoint. "That's---" (she scribbled something else) "interesting."

"What?"

"Hold on a second---" She had written for another two minutes. "There we go. What now?"

"Why is it interesting, Doctor, that I don't remember you?"

"Well, Adele," She leaned onto her knees, balancing her elbows on them. The clipboard fell to the floor, but she had grabbed it away before Trinity could read the glittery cursive. "If you don't remember me, does that mean that you were living completely in a world of your own?"

"I…" Trinity hadn't known how to answer the question.

"Were you or weren't you?"

"A world…"

"Come on, say it! This is important. You have to admit that you were imagining things, or else we still have a psychiatric case on our hands. Open up, sweetie!" she smiled, though her glittering eyes were intently fixed on Trinity's.

Who are you, Dr. Warner? Are you real? Or are you a program to tell me what's real and what isn't?

The smile was now gone. "Listen, dear. You have to say it or else we are still in the same place that we were a week ago. Will it help if I use your old name? Will you react to me then? Fine." She flipped back a page on her clipboard. "Adele, tell me this, tell me that you're not 'the Trinity' anymore. Did that help?"

"How did you know that name?" Trinity had said, shaken.

"Ah, a response! Although it's not the one we're looking for. Come on, I won't be distracted. Besides, that's technically confidential."

"Tell me!"

"Fine. I suppose we can break policy just this once. (Politeness matters, you know, in the real world.) You said it once in here, I remember. You stood up and you walked at me right over there--- frankly I was a bit frightened, especially when you backed me against the wall--- but then I remember it clearly. After calling me some name, the next thing you said was, "My name is Trinity," and I haven't forgotten it since. I've told you something. Now tell me this. Do you ever want to get out of here, honey?"

"Yes…" More than you know.

"Then…say…it. Tell me, dear, that you're cured. Ten years more. We can't take ten years more of this… Form the words with your lips. All you need to say is, 'I was living in a world of my own', and then we can proceed with your treatment plan. A private room, a rehabilitation program. You're a smart little girl, Adele. You do not belong with the other two idiots in your smelly room. But as long as you insist and fight, guess what?" She had smiled again. "I can have you here for as long as I want. You're dangerous, you know."

Trinity hates this woman with a passion.

"I was living in a world of my own," she said, before adding, "You bitch."

The woman recovered quickly. Damn. "Now, was that necessary?" she had said. "Ah, well, you said it and that's what counts. I think that's enough to start on," she declared, and stood up. "We'll get to the root of your hostility and delusions next time, sweetheart. How about a nice bath? Orderly! Will you take the patient, please!"

"I have to get out of here," says Trinity hoarsely. She releases her hands from her scalp and realizes that she was hurting herself.

There's a picture of Dr. Warner on my DeviantArt account, if you feel like checking it out. I had fun. Here's the site. It won't let me type it in here, so just go to deviantart(dot)com/deviation/13402004/, substituting a period for the, uh, dot. (Duh, readers think.)

LiMiYa— Where's it going, you ask? To hell in a handbasket. MWA HA HA--- Ah, seriously. What do you think?

sleeping awake—Hey, I totally know how you feel. Being wrong happens to me a lot. And I'm glad you're getting it…Look for Neo next chapter; except he may not be quite what you expect, you little lucid dreamer, you. MWA HA HAAAA!!!! There we go.

KailekeheDamn straight it's an alternate! Here's more. And I update as soon as the story gets to the bottom of the page, just so you know.

Oshika Kogo—I love smiley faces.

KingofZeon---I enjoy confusing people! And yes. I like the story too, which surprises me, so I'll keep going indeed.

DestinyChaserOoo! Economic! Thank you very much, ma'am or sir!

bantThanks to you too…glad you are enjoying it.