psychologist who made a splash, pardon the pun, in the early seventies. A kook. Tried to salvage the Skinner box.”
“What was that?”
“Long story. Basically, Montreux believed the maturation process for children recapitulates evolution, from oceans to land. He was into underwater birth, and he thought children misbehaved because their reptilian, or aquatic, brain got out of control. He wrote this book called The Shore of Reason that told parents to submerge their children in water until they behaved better. Sort of aversion therapy. You relive the aquatic existence and progress beyond it. Not a very popular theory any more.”
“I saw a diagram of one of his tanks on the Internet.”
“I hope your parents aren’t thinking of experimenting with his ideas.”
“Nah. My dad’s all about Rousseau. My mom sometimes talks about Ayn Rand.” Then Berry shut up before he said too much or sounded too smart.
“You know,” Dr. Tamarind said, “maybe it’s time we got your parents in here with you.”
Berry shook his head slowly.
“Why not?”
“They’d just fight.”
Dr. Tamarind tried to draw Berry out some more, but Berry shut up. The more Dr. Tamarind probed him, the more nervous he got. He still wasn’t sure why Canon Moosehead had been there.
When Berry finally lurched out of Dr. Tamarind’s office without saying goodbye, he found a beautiful woman in the waiting room instead of the Canon. She had long hair the color of altar linen. Her square face shone with natural glamour and cosmetics, and jewelry glimmered from her neck, ears, and wrists. Her jeans jacket and denim skirt showed off a body almost as sleek as the strippers Berry had seen the w 7 eek before. She gave Berry a starlet’s smile.
“You look frustrated,” she said. “I can’t blame you. He’s such a pill miser. Takes that whole ‘gatekeeper’ thing way too seriously.”
Berry nodded without grasping anything.
“You think you’re ready, right? You sure look ready. It would make passing a whole lot easier, I can tell you. But he doesn’t care. I wish I hadn’t started with him. You know, there’s a much easier way of getting what you want.”
Berry nodded again. He waited for the woman to make sense. She definitely sounded encouraging. But just then, Dr. Tamarind chose to poke his head out and say, “Maura, come on in.” The woman got up, waved at Berry, then disappeared into the spymaster’s lair.
Berry got halfway to the bus stop when he decided he couldn’t go home without understanding what the woman, Maura, had been talking about.
He turned and walked back to Dr. Tamarind’s office building. It had two exits, so Berry had to go upstairs and stand outside the suite door to be sure of catching Maura. He waited around there for half an hour, before Dr. Tamarind and Maura walked out together. They were talking about surgeons.
Berry hid behind a large red donut sculpture. Dr. Tamarind and Maura disappeared into the stairwell. Berry waited a moment, then crept down after them. But by the time Berry reached the ground floor, he couldn’t find his therapist or the mysterious woman. He walked around the building twice, but they’d both disappeared. Berry screamed. Then he ran to catch the bus home for a late dinner and parental questioning.
Maura turned up a couple of weeks later, after an extra unpleasant session with Dr. Tamarind in which the therapist actually sang to Berry. “You see, a grown man can still have a wonderfully mellow and lilting voice,” Dr. Tamarind said between renditions of “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy.” Berry squirmed.
In the waiting room, Maura wore a really short red skirt, go-go boots, and talon-like press-on nails.
“Listen,” Berry said. “I need to know about the stuff you were talking about when we met before. What did you mean, there’s an easier way? Please tell me.”
Maura agreed to meet Berry after her session. He took her for a beer at a
“What was that?”
“Long story. Basically, Montreux believed the maturation process for children recapitulates evolution, from oceans to land. He was into underwater birth, and he thought children misbehaved because their reptilian, or aquatic, brain got out of control. He wrote this book called The Shore of Reason that told parents to submerge their children in water until they behaved better. Sort of aversion therapy. You relive the aquatic existence and progress beyond it. Not a very popular theory any more.”
“I saw a diagram of one of his tanks on the Internet.”
“I hope your parents aren’t thinking of experimenting with his ideas.”
“Nah. My dad’s all about Rousseau. My mom sometimes talks about Ayn Rand.” Then Berry shut up before he said too much or sounded too smart.
“You know,” Dr. Tamarind said, “maybe it’s time we got your parents in here with you.”
Berry shook his head slowly.
“Why not?”
“They’d just fight.”
Dr. Tamarind tried to draw Berry out some more, but Berry shut up. The more Dr. Tamarind probed him, the more nervous he got. He still wasn’t sure why Canon Moosehead had been there.
When Berry finally lurched out of Dr. Tamarind’s office without saying goodbye, he found a beautiful woman in the waiting room instead of the Canon. She had long hair the color of altar linen. Her square face shone with natural glamour and cosmetics, and jewelry glimmered from her neck, ears, and wrists. Her jeans jacket and denim skirt showed off a body almost as sleek as the strippers Berry had seen the w 7 eek before. She gave Berry a starlet’s smile.
“You look frustrated,” she said. “I can’t blame you. He’s such a pill miser. Takes that whole ‘gatekeeper’ thing way too seriously.”
Berry nodded without grasping anything.
“You think you’re ready, right? You sure look ready. It would make passing a whole lot easier, I can tell you. But he doesn’t care. I wish I hadn’t started with him. You know, there’s a much easier way of getting what you want.”
Berry nodded again. He waited for the woman to make sense. She definitely sounded encouraging. But just then, Dr. Tamarind chose to poke his head out and say, “Maura, come on in.” The woman got up, waved at Berry, then disappeared into the spymaster’s lair.
Berry got halfway to the bus stop when he decided he couldn’t go home without understanding what the woman, Maura, had been talking about.
He turned and walked back to Dr. Tamarind’s office building. It had two exits, so Berry had to go upstairs and stand outside the suite door to be sure of catching Maura. He waited around there for half an hour, before Dr. Tamarind and Maura walked out together. They were talking about surgeons.
Berry hid behind a large red donut sculpture. Dr. Tamarind and Maura disappeared into the stairwell. Berry waited a moment, then crept down after them. But by the time Berry reached the ground floor, he couldn’t find his therapist or the mysterious woman. He walked around the building twice, but they’d both disappeared. Berry screamed. Then he ran to catch the bus home for a late dinner and parental questioning.
Maura turned up a couple of weeks later, after an extra unpleasant session with Dr. Tamarind in which the therapist actually sang to Berry. “You see, a grown man can still have a wonderfully mellow and lilting voice,” Dr. Tamarind said between renditions of “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy.” Berry squirmed.
In the waiting room, Maura wore a really short red skirt, go-go boots, and talon-like press-on nails.
“Listen,” Berry said. “I need to know about the stuff you were talking about when we met before. What did you mean, there’s an easier way? Please tell me.”
Maura agreed to meet Berry after her session. He took her for a beer at a
Similar Books
