Perspective Engine One

1 - New Perspective

“Dr. Lee, can I be honest with you?” I asked, thirty-five minutes into my forty-minute therapy session. I wouldn’t have to talk about my screw up for too long, thankfully.

“I wouldn’t like it any other way, Madison,” Dr. Lee said, taking a sip of what I assumed was water from her mint green Stanley cup. The psychologist was a thirty-something Chinese woman. She always wore a dark colored turtleneck with small jade beads. Dr. Lee had a kind face and I loved her cute little green necklace.

If only therapy helped me.

Even a f*****g little.

“I did it again,” I said, choking on the words as they entangled the shame I felt. “I stepped on that damn scale.”

Dr. Lee pursed her lips and looked down, scribbling something on a pad. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Sick to my stomach. I don’t know which weighs me down more Dr. Lee, being Bipolar or being a fat-ass.”

“Madison, when you talk about yourself that way, how does it make you feel?”

I almost rolled my eyes at her constant drilling. “I feel what I always feel,” I said, shaking with tears. “Miserable, I’m miserable.” I shook my head and grabbed the AriZona sweet tea sitting on my desk. Unfortunately, the bottle was almost finished.

“I thought we were getting rid of the scale, Madison, you told me you were going to dispose of it.”

Well, I didn’t use the word ‘dispose’ that’s for sure. “I know Dr. Lee, but I plucked it right from the bin before trash day, I just had to see it one more time. I was hoping my weight went down.”

“Okay,” Dr. Lee said, clearing her throat. “How much did it say?”

“Four and some change, and it hasn’t changed for the better.”

“Let’s focus on something else,” she said, “have you been writing in the daily gratitude journal and reading from the list of positive affirmations?”

I grabbed my bottle and took another sip. There was a new condensation ring left by the tea on my desk. There were hundreds at this point. I swirled the little remaining tea. My twelve-pack was down to its last bottle. I’d have to get some more delivered. I glanced back at the psychologist and considered what she had said.

“I still don’t have anything to be grateful for, Dr. Lee. I’m sorry. You know what, I’ll be grateful if I get my case of sweet tea same-day delivery.”

Dr. Lee sighed. “…and the positive affirmations?”

I shook my head, looking away from the small box of her psychologist on my computer screen.

I refused to make the box larger than it needed to be. I also refused to look at myself in the mirror image that Zoom forced upon its users. I hate seeing myself.

“Not that either.”

“The medication at least?”

With this question, the psychologist took a tone that reminded me of the last five therapists. They always started off bubbly and focused but eventually they withered, and finally, I broke them. Anything under the weight of my life. Broken.

“I haven’t missed a day of it but it doesn’t work…yeah, I don’t think it works.”

“Well you’re doing something. That’s good news, at least,” Dr. Lee said, sounding almost patronizing. I shook my head. Reading Webtoons made me feel better than this s**t. There was the strange probing at times. Then there was the belittling. This woman may have been my worst mental health professional yet.

“Listen, Dr. Lee, I have been in therapy for a decade, I’m about to be twenty-five tomorrow, I don’t think I can do all these things you’ve been pushing on me.”

“Madison,” Dr. Lee took her glasses off. “Have you tried?”

“Not hard enough, I guess. But I don’t like this talking down to me, Dr. Lee,” Like I’m depressed but you don’t have to be rude. I crossed my arms.

“Is that how that felt? I’m sorry Madison. I just feel like therapy has been challenging for you,”

“So is this you giving up on me then?” I asked, mostly to get a reaction.

Dr. Lee leaned forward into her camera. The screen flickered as the psychologist smiled. “Madison, this entire time I’ve just been creating your profile. We haven’t even started treatment yet.”

“Oh,” I said. Sure felt like it started already.

“Tell me how you found this program?”

“Google ads,” I said, “ I saw ‘Perspective’, and it was like the word spoke to me.”

“The word did speak to you, Madison. I really believe that you need a big change.”

“Me too,” I nodded.

“That’s because we recruited you.”

“Recruited?” I furrowed my brow at the word.

“After getting to know you for these past five weeks I have concluded that you are the perfect fit for Perspective’s fifteenth experiment.”

“Experiment?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. It creaked a little. “What do you mean experiment?

“It’s really more than an experiment. It’s an experience and opportunity for you.” Dr. Lee said, her smile broadened now, teeth shining white.

I didn’t like experiments. Those chemistry experiments in tenth grade had the entire class whooping with glee while I found it boring. Especially the experiment understanding calories. That one felt targeted.

“I don’t like experiments. Never wanted to be a part of one.” I grabbed my mouse and hovered the cursor over the ‘x’. This was getting weird. “I thought this was therapy, not a science project and all that.”

“It is therapy. But you failed therapy Madison. Now we need to change your entire perspective.”

I closed out the session with a click. I had to do it. Was it rude? I didn’t care. She was being rude. I glanced at the time — 6:00 — Time was up anyway. I turned my back to the computer screen and tightened my lip. Why am I always getting caught up in scams and other weird s**t? There was Brad, the catfish bastard who fleeced me out of $200. He was cute in his profile picture. Which was a damn stock photo.

Whatever. Therapy wasn’t for me. I promised Mom I would do it three-months every year. She made me make her this promise when my life went to s**t in high school after Papa died. Mom reiterated this promise three years ago as pancreatic cancer took her too. Now that these three-months were up, I doubted I would ever go back this time. I sighed as I glanced around my pathetic room.

The full-sized bed was sunk in, carpet floor ragged, dirty clothes overflowing, and the TV remote was still missing in action. It had been two days, and I needed to find that damn thing. I lived in a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and a small living room that overlooked downtown Minneapolis. Rent was cheap enough to accommodate me for the next ten years while I spent the life insurance money my parents left me. Eventually, I would get a job again and then the money would last me even longer.

“I wasn’t finished explaining the experiment, Madison,”

I spun back around and there was the zoom call — active. The psychologist’s window covered the entire 20’ screen. The woman’s face loomed large, as she leaned forward into the camera, her eyes accusatory and piercing.

“What the f**k is going on?” I said. “I want to be discharged from the program!”

“Madison, you are client #670,” Dr. Lee said, holding her clipboard to the screen. The numbers were written neatly in bold marker for me to read clearly. “You don’t have any pets so that’s good. No friends or family so that’s good.” Her voice lost its softness, not truly speaking to me but reading from a list of notes.

“I do have friends and family!” I said, knowing I had already told the woman in a previous session my friends and extended family hadn’t heard from me in years. Why couldn’t my parents have given me a sister or a brother before they went and died on me.

“We have ensured the last six months of your lease have been paid for. Unfortunately the length of this experiment is a year. Movers will put all your things in storage when the time comes. We will pay the monthly bill.”

“Dr. Lee, you are scaring me,” I said, my finger clicking the ‘x’ rapidly but the Zoom meeting refusing to close.

“We believe that you need Perspective, Madison. It will be dangerous, you might snap, but you need Perspective to wake you—“ The monitor went black.

“Perspective that,” I said, crossing my arms with the desktop power cord in my hands. I leaned over and struggled to plug it back in. Screw it. I dropped it to the floor. That’ll need to stay off for a long while anyway. I’ll have to find the remote before I get bored. I picked up my bottle of iced tea and downed the last of it, then stood from my chair with a grunt.

Damn this body. My feet hurt. My knees hurt. My back hurts. Every damn thing hurts.

I slowly walked to my living room, if you can call limping and twisting trying to avoid the pain, walking. I should have been noseblind to the smell of old cardboard by now. She wasn’t. The mountain of sss boxes on my couch rivaled Kilimanjaro. Cleaning that all up was another task for another day. A manic day. She stepped in the kitchen, opened the fridge and scanned the shelves.

The groceries were dwindling fast:

Two gala apples, one cup of greek yogurt, a glass bowl of partially eaten mac and cheese, and a half gallon of whole milk, half gone.

My eyes stopped on the last bottle of the AriZona Iced Tea sitting on the top shelf just waiting for me. Last one. And that the weirdo psychologist distracted me from putting in a new delivery. There was a knock at my door. I shut the refrigerator door and squinted my eyes.

“Hmm?” Who the hell could that be? I considered for a split second that it was Dr. Lee’s creepy ass. That would be illegal. “Who is it now?” I asked tiredly, trudging to the door.

“Prime Delivery!” A man said. “It says to deliver it to you by hand,” Had I put the order in before the session and forgotten about it?

“What is it?” I asked cautiously.

“A big ol’ case of AriZona,” He said with a chuckle.

As upset as I was from that crazy session, a bout of insomnia made sense. I had completely forgotten about putting in the delivery. I opened the door to see a young black guy with sleepy eyes and long dreadlocks carrying the case of tea.

“Here you go, miss” He said with a smile, showing opaque Invisalign braces that weren’t very invisible.

“Thanks so much,” I said, “I forgot I ordered it,”

“Well, it says here it was a gift. Somebody likes you,” He pointed to the tag that said ‘A gift for you!’

“Gift?”

As the words left my mouth three large men walked off the elevator. The delivery man and I looked at the men as they approached my door.

“Perspective said they’d be together. Clients #592 and #670,” the man in front said, with a gruff Italian accent, “two-for-one fellas.”

My eyes widened as I shared a look with the courier. Suddenly, a man broke off from the three with a sprint, slamming into the delivery man. “Shut the door!” The courier shouted, his voice filled with fear as he wrestled the attacker. “Call the cops!” I slammed the door, throwing on the chain lock.

“s**t!” I screamed, looking for my cell phone. “I’m calling 911, assholes!”

I ran, as best I could, to the bedroom and there my phone sat, vibrating like hell. There was an incoming video call from Dr. Lee. I tapped my finger frantically on decline but the video call remained on the screen. The vibrating phone slipped to the floor out of my sweaty hands.

That traitorous b—

I heard the door unlock and the door knob turn, as it caught against the chain. I stumbled from the room, mouth was dry with heavy pants as my heart beat out of my chest. I slammed myself against the cracked door. Being a big girl has its perks, bastards! I smiled at the thought.

“Come with us Madison,” the man said, leaning against the door. “don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Stop it!” I screamed. “Somebody help!”

The men slammed their bodies into the door repeatedly with heavy thuds. Pain joined the struggle, my knees becoming weak.

“Oh no, oh no!” I screamed, as the men powered through me and the chained lock. The metal chain links clattering around me as I began, what I imagined to be, a theatrical tumble.

I stumbled from the door, trying to prevent myself from falling, I fruitlessly slid along the wall, tripping forward and finally plowing into my couch. The mountain of empty boxes fell over me and my damn TV remote, that was hiding on the cushion, fell to the floor with a crack as its AAA batteries scattered in different directions.

The three goons were only two now, and they were walking toward me. “What do you want from me?!” I screamed, as one of the men lifted a can and sprayed a cloud of tranquilizer mist into my face.