Chapter 7
"Excuse me."
Larry looked up from the novel he'd been reading. "Yes, can I help you?"
The man stepped up to the front desk and handed him a stack of papers. "My application and resume for the janitor position."
"Oh yeah, thanks! I'll get back to you as soon as I go through all the other applications..." He trailed off as he stared at the submissions, which were currently gathering dust. There were times when he seriously wondered why he'd chosen to sell his company and return to this kind of work; going over twenty job applications took a huge, irritating chunk out of his day. Yet with Cecil, Gus, and Reginald finally retiring, he had no choice. ("We're old, Larry, and our time is coming up. We'd like to enjoy the rest of it without having to mop up after a herd of rhinos, thank you. Not that we're complaining, it's just...") He rubbed his temples as he remembered their conversation. Not even a raise had convinced them to stay. The problem would be that now he'd have to spill the secret to yet another outsider. "I'm sorry, mister?.."
"Mr. Davis, sir." He stood at attention as if expecting to be hired on the spot and given a mop.
"Um, yeah, you can go now. I'll call you at this number, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay then. Enjoy the rest of your day! Drive safely!" Oblivious to the man's confident smirk as he walked away, Larry scanned his application. "What kind of professor decides to become a janitor?"
He couldn't have suspected Mr. Davis had heard him, that the comment had only cemented his hopes for the future. It would be a matter of time before they hired him- he was overqualified. Judging by the handful of submissions perched by Larry, he didn't have long to wait. And if there was competition... Well, he wasn't above eliminating it.
They say it takes patience to make a man. Whoever said that must have been a saint and a woman, the pharaoh decided. He'd never believed himself to lack patience before, but McKenzie was depleting his reserves supernaturally quickly.
This was their second week of therapy, and they weren't getting anywhere. Apparently her idea of counseling was quizzing him on his past (which even his closest friends knew little about- the less remembered, the better) and trying to figure out what Joseph's Last Stand referred to. Ahkmenrah had never been the most forthcoming person even before his time in Cambridge, but that period of his afterlife had taught him not to reveal too much of himself to anyone; that the first night guards had locked away permanently had only strengthened this resolve. McKenzie was not exactly helping him break the habit. Having spent some time with her, he admitted she meant well, but she was completely inexperienced and refused to admit it. She acted like she knew what was best for him, since she'd read so many psychology textbooks and articles (he need only look in her bag for proof). Regardless, those articles did not mean she was the expert in her field, a fact she had yet to acknowledge.
The one part of their sessions he mildly enjoyed was watching her write. She took notes constantly, scribbling even more than he did. No longer did she remind him so strongly of Diana, but it was the one time he glimpsed her unguarded self- softer somehow, and more thoughtful. Occasionally she caught him staring, and self-consciously lay down her pen, resuming their discussion.
To his dismay, the nightmares continued. Sporatically, true, so perhaps the therapy was effective. Ironically, he was better at hiding them now that everyone else knew about them, but they continued to plagued him. Hiding them increased their toll on him exponentially, but he'd seen the way Teddy looked at him; it was enough to convince him to do anything to get the president to stop worrying about him. How much more could he take? If the gods were testing him, could they not at least provide him with a solution? After all this time, why did he still not understand the one thing possibly capable of protecting them all?
Why could he still not unlock his tablet's secrets?
"Ahk, are you still with me?"
Steeling himself away from his thoughts, he sighed. "Forgive me, I was... Occupied."
"That's all right. Anyway, what's on your mind tonight? Any revelations about the night terrors?" She sat there, notebook at the ready.
"No," he replied too quickly. "I am afraid I cannot enlighten you on their source yet."
"Have you been performing the mental exercises I suggested?"
His guilty fidgeting was answer enough. "I, they are... A little advanced, are they not?"
"Nonsense! For someone of your intellect, they should be no problem at all!"
"Hanging upside down from the ceiling is considered easy? After balancing on one leg for twenty minutes? I dread imagining what difficult looks like in your time," he muttered.
Sighing, McKenzie relented. "Perhaps we should try hypnosis."
"No. I do not wish for someone else to enter my mind and influence it," he said firmly.
"It's not quite like that, Ahk. Hypnosis is more passive than that; I wouldn't be able to influence your mind to any great extent, I'd only be guiding you back in time, as far back as you're comfortable with. When done correctly, hypnosis is a very effective treatment, and based on your circumstances, I think it would help you quite a bit."
"Have you ever done it before?"
Sheepishly, she admitted, "No."
"Then my answer remains the same."
And her mother accused her of stubbornness! She'd love to get those two together, it would have proven entertaining. "Well, we're running out of treatment options! You refuse to explain much to me, you won't do the exercises I assign, and you just... Oooh!"
A timely knock interrupted them. "I hate interrupting, but Larry wants Ahk to run interference with the Vikings," Sacagawea said, peeking into the lounge.
"Again? Enrik promised me they would keep the parties to a minimum!" Ahkmenrah groaned, struggling not to show his relief at the sudden emergency. At least this time he would not have to plead a stomach flu to leave early.
"Well, whatever they're celebrating is disrupting the Mayans' sacred New Year festival," the Shoshone Native American sighed.
"I am afraid I must leave, McKenzie. Same time tomorrow evening?" He hurried out before she could respond.
McKenzie swiftly returned behind her desk and opened her book, stumbling a little along the way. Sacagawea did not miss the sniffle escaping the younger girl's lips. "McKenzie, I know there's a lot to adjust to around here, and the pharaoh can be a little remote at times, but you must give him time."
"You misunderstand- I love it here! To discover magic is real fulfills so many childhood dreams, it's impossible to relay them all. And the pharaoh is perfectly charming."
"Then what's wrong?"
"Nothing a little research cannot solve." Looking up at Sacagawea with what she hoped was a relaxed smile, McKenzie added, "You know, I think I might actually be getting through to him! Tonight he seemed slightly less rigid on the hypnosis suggestion."
The Native American doubted that, but she kept this to herself. "Well, if you ever want to talk to someone about anything, I'm here, all right?"
"Of course! Now if you'll excuse me, I must look over my observations. Delicate process, you know, best done in solitude."
After hesitating a second longer, Sacagawea nodded and left. McKenzie practically pounced upon her scarlet booklet.
I am in trouble. If Larry or the others don't see positive results from my presence soon, surely they'll force me out? And who knows what they'll do to ensure their secret is safe- they all seem like lovely people (magical statues? Models? Whatever), but I doubt they will allow me to leave here with my knowledge without trying a mind wipe or something. Then again, I might be over imagining- my mind has always been my greatest strength and most debilitating weakness. It races ahead before I've even begun!
Regardless how the others perceive me, I'm now convinced the pharaoh, the one individual who should trust me the most, holds no particular warm regard for me. He thinks me a buffoon! Not that I blame him- the more I immerse myself in my internship, the more I'm convinced I shall never hold a candle to the greatest minds in my profession. Devastating realization to say the least. But who am I analyzing here, Ahkmenrah or myself?!
These past two weeks I have attempted to aid him, but he can be rather insubordinate at times. Then again, I cannot completely blame him for not completing those exercises- Middle Eastern meditation techniques tend to be on the more challenging, obscure side. Sadly, his lack of cooperation makes treatment far more trying than I'd hoped it would be.
As for my findings, nothing new, nothing helpful, nothing conclusive. Nothing.
McKenzie snapped her journal- might as well be honest- shut. Gazing out the window, she once again found herself wondering what in God's name she was doing here. Was it just because she was exposed to such a bizarre environment, or had she always been miserable at psychology and she'd never been granted an opportunity to notice before?
