Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Every ship in the Space Corp had a full-time, professional, licensed, degreed, trained, and able psychologist. They were kept busy.
For crew members, it was duty first and last. No one was allowed to express their innermost feelings to anyone. Except in therapy. Like all psychologists, Space Corp shrinks were essentially worthless. But you could tell them what you thought.
“Your mother,” said Dr. Jellicek.
“What?” Kenneth Kern lay on a leather couch. “What about her?”
“I want to know how you feel about your mother.”
“She was wonderful.”
“Ah!” the doctor wrote rapidly.
Kern looked at him sideways. “Is that bad?”
“Depends.” Dr. Jellicek wore a white coat. His glasses were thick, heavy and black. As he questioned patients he tapped these back, or pulled them forward, as though bringing a slide into focus. “Tell me about your romantic relationships. Do they, and I want to be delicate on this matter, remind you of your mother?”
“Absolutely not. I mean, if I had any romantic relations.”
“You don’t?”
“It’s against regulations.”
“Ah!” The doctor wrote on his pad.
Kern was getting annoyed. “Listen, Doc. I’m here for advice. I work with idiots. They’re driving me crazy, and I doubt they’ll ever change. Can’t you give me a Moon pill?”
“We don’t like medication, if it can be avoided.” Moon pills were nothing more than sugar tablets. They operated on the power of suggestion, and worked wonders. “Let us return to your romantic life. Do you wish you were married?”
Kern certainly did not. First, it would mean a lengthy separation from his wife. It might be years before he returned home. Then they would have to get to know each other all over again. Which meant courtship, and flowers, and all that silliness. Then Kern’s wife, or any wife he imagined for himself, would be highly analytical. She would want to know all kinds of details. Had he really missed her as much as he claimed? Why hadn’t he emailed more? What about all those pretty junior officers? And why was he always talking about Ensign Bremer? What was it about her, anyway?
“You understand my reservations, don’t you, Doctor?” Kern glanced up. “Doctor?”
Dr. Jellicek seemed lost in thought.
Kern noticed his ring. “You’re a married man yourself, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes I am.”
“Anyway, as I was saying…”
“My goodness,” the doctor said. “Look at the time.” He jumped up and all but threw Kenneth Kern out of his office. “I must prepare for my next patient. If you need to see me again, make an appointment.”
Kern thought not, but kept it to himself.
As for the doctor, he was most distressed. He shook out a handful of Moon pills, downing them in a gulp. Then sat at his computer. He had emails to write. A lot of them.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com