*Video feed begins.
Surrounded by the blue-green hue of the PRETA Data Center's myriad of consoles, terminals and monitors, Celia sits bolt upright and alert as her eyes dart rapidly from left to right, digesting the feed coming through on the main monitor. Around her lays the debris of used coffee-cups, cigarette packets and food cartons; a pillow and a hairbrush nearby betray the fact she's been sleeping in the Data Center for several nights now.
After several minutes her eyes stop moving, locking into their familiar glazed stare, her jaw clenched.
There is a long silence, broken only by the omnipresent low rumble of the data-core.
Eventually, Celia lights a cigarette and turns to face the camera drone*
She's alive. And on the run.
*exhales in a sigh*
Mother, why couldn't you have just stayed in one place so I could find you? How do you expect me to find a fugitive in a cluster of billions? A prison-break would've been easy compared to this.
*She turns back to the main monitor, bringing up her list of contacts. A dozen unread messages flash urgently for attention but are ignored as Celia begins to create a new entry*
Governor Brond. It appears mother used him as her ticket out. How brilliantly resourceful of her...
*she allows the corner of her mouth to raise in a sly smile of admiration*
He was present when CONCORD first interviewed her. According to the file, he held a private interview with her just days after.
*Celia purses her lips, drumming her black fingernails on the keypad*
He's obviously the next logical lead. I'll have him traced down, although I'm not doing the detective work this time; there are Family members and associates who are better at this than I am. Must remember to ask about interrogation methods too. I'm no sadist, but I might just allow myself to enjoy this.
*She takes a long draw from a cigarette*
Then there is Judge Olar. No need to waste words on this man. Besides, I don't expect to glean anything remotely useful out of him. It's not even worth asking him why he saw it fit to separate a five-year old child from her mother at a time when she really fucking needed her!
*Celia's voice raises to a near shriek as her fingers claw savagely at the keypad, the plastic creaking under the strain. She takes several deep breaths to regain her composure; her expression now grows weary, the long hours of concentration spent at the console beginning to catch up with her*
So tired... I've lost count of how many days I've spent in here... and my eyes...
*Celia rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. She grabs her pillow from a nearby unit and hugs it to her chest, resting her head into it and talking softly under her breath*
Where's Milo when I need him? He's been gone for weeks and I miss him. I really miss him.
*Her voice cracks on the last few words as her eyelids become heavier. Within seconds she is asleep, hugging her pillow, her face relaxed and serene. The camera records for another hour before going into auto-standby.
Video feed ends*
2009-08-19
2009-08-18
The Lead (part 1)
*Data transfer begins - file CCR055001KATANM
From: CONCORD Criminal Records Database (RESTRICTED)
To: PRETA Secure User
Bypassing Firewall... Complete
Downloading... Complete*
Subject: Katan, Matila
File No: CCR055001KATANM
Status: Fugitive
Summary:
91.11.14 - Sentenced by Brutor Tribal Court (Judge Andril Olar presiding) to life imprisonment for the murder of Habikuk Louga Katan of North Reach Mining Outpost. Sentence to be served at North Reach Penal Facility. 1 dependant, Celia Katan, to be taken into care of the Tribe as in accordance with Tribal Law.
92.02.07 - Escape attempt - prisoner caught attempting to smuggle herself out in a supply crate.
92.09.12 - Escape attempt - prisoner took a dental technician hostage with a drill-bit. Prisoner apprehended and placed in solitary confinement for two months.
93.04.26 - Escape attempt - prisoner instigated a fight between fellow inmates and attempted to escape during the melee.
93.05.01 - Transfered to RSS Kulheim Maximum Security Penal Facility
105.01.23 - Pending review for good behaviour.
105.02.10 - Transfered to Medical Wing Delta, Kulheim Facility.
111.02.23 - File submitted to CONCORD on request.
111.02.25 - Prisoner interviewed by CONCORD (under supervision of Prison Governor Alus Brond) regarding the current status of her daughter, Ms Celia DeKline, formerly Celia Katan.
111.03.03 - Prisoner privately interviewed by Governor Brond.
111.04.11 - Prisoner escaped and placed on Fugitives bulletin. Governor Brond dismissed from his post following a confession to having an illicit affair with the prisoner.
*Deleting trace files... Complete
Data transfer ends*
2009-07-31
True Ghost
*Video feed begins
The camera drone moves slowly backwards, tracking Celia as she walks down a narrow corridor in what appears to be the interior of a Matari vessel. She is smiling confidently, her bright eyes fixed on the camera*
A girl can feel spoiled sometimes. Two new playthings in the space of a week...
*She smirks, oblivious to the passing crewmen who hastily make way for her, pressing themselves against the walls and avoiding eye-contact as she makes her advance down the corridor.*
Both perfom brilliantly, are easy to control and... prove deeply satisfying.
*Celia's smirk widens to an outright wicked grin as she comes to a halt next to an airlock*
But today I will give testament to the latter of my new acquisitions...
*With a hiss, the airlock opens and Celia steps through the twin set of doors and out onto the boarding gantry. The camera drone continues to track her as she disembarks, capturing the glittering hull of a Rapier-class recon cruiser behind her. She leans forward on the gantry railing, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the disapproving look from the deck officer as she continues*
The Rapier is a true Ghost. Capable of stalking prey completely unseen, it can close to combat range to attack, then slip away into the void without a trace. It can lie above a gate, silently watching the traffic and where it's heading, waiting for an opportunity.
Typically for Core Complexion, the focus is on supplemental systems rather than sheer damage potential.
*Celia points with her cigarette to various sections of the ship*
The cowling over there houses the target painter, just behind that solar fin is the dual-web array. A cyno field generator can be mounted up there. As I've recently discovered, the ship really shines when used in tandem with other recons.
*She narrows her eyes and nods to herself as she takes a long draw and exhales*
A fine ship indeed. And I'm going to need it for a mission of a closer, more personal nature.
*Her smile and the brightness in her eyes fades as she turns her back on the ship and perches herself on the railing, undaunted by the long drop down to the deck floor behind her.*
Information on my mother is still coming in slowly. I know that she received a life sentence for the murder of my father and that the local prison transfered her to a secure RSS facility for reasons as yet unknown. I also know that CONCORD secured all of her files in February, the same time my security status officially went "outlaw".
That means they've made the connection, and have undoubtedly questioned her about me.
*she sighs, running a hand through her hair*
Which in turn means... I have a liability on my hands.
*Celia pauses, her dull gaze fixed on the plume of rising smoke from her cigarette as she chews on her bottom lip*
Would she have protected me under questioning? I mean, she killed to protect me once...
Or would she have been horrified by what I've done and readily co-operated? If she did help CONCORD, then...
*she looks away from the camera, letting her hair hide her face. She makes a small choking sound before suddenly looking back up to the lens, her eyes and voice completely devoid of emotion*
...then I'll do what needs to be done.
Either way, tracking her down is going to take me into dangerous places, to be sure.
*she lowers herself off the railing and looks back at the ship behind her*
And this is where the Juno comes in.
*Celia remains silent as she finishes smoking, crushing the stub beneath her boot with slow deliberation. She folds her arms across her chest as she gazes out to the hangar, only a subtle tick in her jaw betraying the tumult of thoughts racing through her mind*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
The camera drone moves slowly backwards, tracking Celia as she walks down a narrow corridor in what appears to be the interior of a Matari vessel. She is smiling confidently, her bright eyes fixed on the camera*
A girl can feel spoiled sometimes. Two new playthings in the space of a week...
*She smirks, oblivious to the passing crewmen who hastily make way for her, pressing themselves against the walls and avoiding eye-contact as she makes her advance down the corridor.*
Both perfom brilliantly, are easy to control and... prove deeply satisfying.
*Celia's smirk widens to an outright wicked grin as she comes to a halt next to an airlock*
But today I will give testament to the latter of my new acquisitions...
*With a hiss, the airlock opens and Celia steps through the twin set of doors and out onto the boarding gantry. The camera drone continues to track her as she disembarks, capturing the glittering hull of a Rapier-class recon cruiser behind her. She leans forward on the gantry railing, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the disapproving look from the deck officer as she continues*
The Rapier is a true Ghost. Capable of stalking prey completely unseen, it can close to combat range to attack, then slip away into the void without a trace. It can lie above a gate, silently watching the traffic and where it's heading, waiting for an opportunity.
Typically for Core Complexion, the focus is on supplemental systems rather than sheer damage potential.
*Celia points with her cigarette to various sections of the ship*
The cowling over there houses the target painter, just behind that solar fin is the dual-web array. A cyno field generator can be mounted up there. As I've recently discovered, the ship really shines when used in tandem with other recons.
*She narrows her eyes and nods to herself as she takes a long draw and exhales*
A fine ship indeed. And I'm going to need it for a mission of a closer, more personal nature.
*Her smile and the brightness in her eyes fades as she turns her back on the ship and perches herself on the railing, undaunted by the long drop down to the deck floor behind her.*
Information on my mother is still coming in slowly. I know that she received a life sentence for the murder of my father and that the local prison transfered her to a secure RSS facility for reasons as yet unknown. I also know that CONCORD secured all of her files in February, the same time my security status officially went "outlaw".
That means they've made the connection, and have undoubtedly questioned her about me.
*she sighs, running a hand through her hair*
Which in turn means... I have a liability on my hands.
*Celia pauses, her dull gaze fixed on the plume of rising smoke from her cigarette as she chews on her bottom lip*
Would she have protected me under questioning? I mean, she killed to protect me once...
Or would she have been horrified by what I've done and readily co-operated? If she did help CONCORD, then...
*she looks away from the camera, letting her hair hide her face. She makes a small choking sound before suddenly looking back up to the lens, her eyes and voice completely devoid of emotion*
...then I'll do what needs to be done.
Either way, tracking her down is going to take me into dangerous places, to be sure.
*she lowers herself off the railing and looks back at the ship behind her*
And this is where the Juno comes in.
*Celia remains silent as she finishes smoking, crushing the stub beneath her boot with slow deliberation. She folds her arms across her chest as she gazes out to the hangar, only a subtle tick in her jaw betraying the tumult of thoughts racing through her mind*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-07-24
Fulfillment
*Video feed begins.
Sitting on the end of her over-sized bed in an open night-shirt, Celia smiles sweetly at the camera. Her face and skin radiate a healthy glow in the soft orange light while her dark brown eyes shine and sparkle through her bedraggled hair. Over her shoulder, just within the camera's field of view, a man lies face down on the bed, breathing deeply and easily. Despite the dim light, several gouges and scratches are visible on his bare back.
Celia stands carefully and steps silently from the plush bedroom annex to her kitchen area; the camera follows her as programed, as she pours herself a glass of water and lights a cigarette*
I can't begin to describe how much I needed that.
*she speaks in a hushed whisper*
I can't really describe how I feel now... it's just... wonderfully warm...
*she leans against a counter, taking a draw from her cigarette and tilting her head back to exhale in a deep sigh*
Log reminder: call staff later... cancel training and tell them they can stand down for the day. I don't intend on going anywhere in a hurry.
*She drinks her water and looks over her shoulder back towards the bedroom annex*
And I don't intend on you going anywhere in a hurry, either.
*she narrows her eyes and smiles, slowly walking back to bed, whispering to the drone in tow;*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-07-02
Haunting a Ghost
*Video feed begins.
Celia is sat at her desk, amidst a hanging cloud of smoke bathed in the soft orange light of her apartment. An overflowing ashtray, several empty nerve-stick vials and an unopened bottle of brandy stand on the smooth black marble surface. Celia herself looks terribly distraught; beneath the lank strands of hair her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed, streaks of her dark make-up betraying the recent tears. She regards the camera with a burning stare for long moments before speaking in a broken voice*
So now I know the truth. Or rather, recalled the truth; I've always known it. It's in everything I do, everything I say. Even in the way I kill. It's haunted me for twenty years and all I could do to keep myself going was to block it out, along with every other shred of human emotion. I took every measure to ensure I didn't remember. And now, I see it all... so clearly, as if it was yesterday.
*She sighs and lights another cigarette*
I can see my father's body, lying in the mud, his throat torn out. I can still feel her hands... my mother's hands... slick with his blood, stroking my cheek. I can hear her words... so determined, so courageous in the face of what was inevitable. Then she was going... dragged out into the night by the SecTeam... then gone. And I have never seen nor heard of her since.
*Celia bows her head, choking back a sob. She looks back up to the camera, her eyes livid and burning with passion*
Why did they take her? Why?! The only person to have ever shown me love... genuine love. She was trying to defend me from him... What gave them the right to take her away from me and put me into the care of the Clan? Self-righteous bastards, all of them!
*Her speech becomes steadily more aggressive, a hiss through gritted teeth. She absently begins toying with an empty vial, flipping it over and over in her hand as she continues*
Thinking the rest of the cluster owes them something because they were enslaved and mistreated? Forever backward-looking, stuck in archaic tribalism. No wonder they don't make any progress. Slavery is too good for them.
*The vial breaks in her hand, glass fragments sinking into her flesh. Celia does not flinch, oblivious to any physical pain.*
They condemned her as a criminal, just as they have condemned me. No wonder then, I couldn't access her file. I have the know-how to crack the encryption now and I plan on doing just that. I can't rest knowing she could still be alive...
*Celia looks away, choking again and blinking back tears, her lips attempting a faint smile*
She used to sing to me. She'd tell me how much she loved me. Despite our stark poverty, she made every effort to make it bearable for me. She called me... Angel.
*She suddenly grabs the ashtray and flings it out of camera-shot, a resounding crash as it hits a wall. Her head sinks into her hands, her shoulders quivering. She remains silent for long moments, before re-lighting her cigarette and continuing her monologue with the camera*
If I were to find her and see her again, she would despise what I've become. Maybe Milo was right, maybe I should've just let this lie. But if I carried on I the way I was going, I would've ended up like the drunken wretch my mother left in the mud that night. Destitute, insignificant and prematurely dead.
No, I've got to find her. I need the closure. She will undoubtedly hate me, but I've learned how to deal with hate. It comes with my job. It's love that scares me most...
*Celia falls silent again, looking down at her bleeding hands. She concentrates not on her cuts, but on the two rings on her left hand. She gently twists them round and round, her own blood allowing them to slide off her finger easily. She places them on the desk, giving them baleful look.*
Why did I hold onto these for so long? I told myself a dozen reasons. Told others a dozen more. I can see the simple truth so clearly now... this was the closest I got to feeling loved again... and I killed them both.
*Celia shakes her head angrily, as if trying to clear it, unhappy with her train of thought. She sweeps her arm across the desk, sending the empty vials and rings to the floor. Only the unopened bottle remains. She fixes her weary gaze on it and continues to talk, as if to the bottle.*
Where do I go from here? I'm confused and this hurts so much. It would be so easy to drown it all out, feel numb and happy again...
*She caresses the side of the bottle with a black-varnished fingernail.*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
Celia is sat at her desk, amidst a hanging cloud of smoke bathed in the soft orange light of her apartment. An overflowing ashtray, several empty nerve-stick vials and an unopened bottle of brandy stand on the smooth black marble surface. Celia herself looks terribly distraught; beneath the lank strands of hair her eyes are swollen, red-rimmed, streaks of her dark make-up betraying the recent tears. She regards the camera with a burning stare for long moments before speaking in a broken voice*
So now I know the truth. Or rather, recalled the truth; I've always known it. It's in everything I do, everything I say. Even in the way I kill. It's haunted me for twenty years and all I could do to keep myself going was to block it out, along with every other shred of human emotion. I took every measure to ensure I didn't remember. And now, I see it all... so clearly, as if it was yesterday.
*She sighs and lights another cigarette*
I can see my father's body, lying in the mud, his throat torn out. I can still feel her hands... my mother's hands... slick with his blood, stroking my cheek. I can hear her words... so determined, so courageous in the face of what was inevitable. Then she was going... dragged out into the night by the SecTeam... then gone. And I have never seen nor heard of her since.
*Celia bows her head, choking back a sob. She looks back up to the camera, her eyes livid and burning with passion*
Why did they take her? Why?! The only person to have ever shown me love... genuine love. She was trying to defend me from him... What gave them the right to take her away from me and put me into the care of the Clan? Self-righteous bastards, all of them!
*Her speech becomes steadily more aggressive, a hiss through gritted teeth. She absently begins toying with an empty vial, flipping it over and over in her hand as she continues*
Thinking the rest of the cluster owes them something because they were enslaved and mistreated? Forever backward-looking, stuck in archaic tribalism. No wonder they don't make any progress. Slavery is too good for them.
*The vial breaks in her hand, glass fragments sinking into her flesh. Celia does not flinch, oblivious to any physical pain.*
They condemned her as a criminal, just as they have condemned me. No wonder then, I couldn't access her file. I have the know-how to crack the encryption now and I plan on doing just that. I can't rest knowing she could still be alive...
*Celia looks away, choking again and blinking back tears, her lips attempting a faint smile*
She used to sing to me. She'd tell me how much she loved me. Despite our stark poverty, she made every effort to make it bearable for me. She called me... Angel.
*She suddenly grabs the ashtray and flings it out of camera-shot, a resounding crash as it hits a wall. Her head sinks into her hands, her shoulders quivering. She remains silent for long moments, before re-lighting her cigarette and continuing her monologue with the camera*
If I were to find her and see her again, she would despise what I've become. Maybe Milo was right, maybe I should've just let this lie. But if I carried on I the way I was going, I would've ended up like the drunken wretch my mother left in the mud that night. Destitute, insignificant and prematurely dead.
No, I've got to find her. I need the closure. She will undoubtedly hate me, but I've learned how to deal with hate. It comes with my job. It's love that scares me most...
*Celia falls silent again, looking down at her bleeding hands. She concentrates not on her cuts, but on the two rings on her left hand. She gently twists them round and round, her own blood allowing them to slide off her finger easily. She places them on the desk, giving them baleful look.*
Why did I hold onto these for so long? I told myself a dozen reasons. Told others a dozen more. I can see the simple truth so clearly now... this was the closest I got to feeling loved again... and I killed them both.
*Celia shakes her head angrily, as if trying to clear it, unhappy with her train of thought. She sweeps her arm across the desk, sending the empty vials and rings to the floor. Only the unopened bottle remains. She fixes her weary gaze on it and continues to talk, as if to the bottle.*
Where do I go from here? I'm confused and this hurts so much. It would be so easy to drown it all out, feel numb and happy again...
*She caresses the side of the bottle with a black-varnished fingernail.*
Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-06-18
Temperance
*Video feed begins.
The camera drone pans down from a clear starlit sky, across a desolate shuttle terminal, to finally settle on Celia as she leans against a gantry railing overlooking the low silhouettes of a small, planetside complex. She finishes a cigarette, flicking the stub out over the railing and onto the tarmac below in a shower of orange sparks. A breeze catches her hair and the folds of her long leather skirt as she turns to the camera.*
I think my time here is done. I have what I wanted... and more.
*She sweeps her hair back from her face, fixing it behind her ears as her lips curl in subtle suggestion of a smile*
I'm no longer a slave to the bottle and what's more - I found my hacker. And what a find! Not just any hacker, but Mr Cole was a former cybercrime detective. He claimed that CONCORD had put an implant in his head that was re-aligning his neural pathways; interesting theory, but it earned him a full-time place here as a patient, so the quack meds and psychologists could make notes and justify their ridiculous paychecks.
Persuading him to share his knowledge was easy. They clearly don't have many female patients here.
*Celia looks away from the camera for a moment, a pang of discomfort passing over her face*
He gave me a datapad containing his tricks of the trade - thirty years of hacking knowledge and experience. I was quick to put it to good use...
*Celia begins to walk slowly along the gantry, her hand caressing the cool metal of the railing. The camera drone adjusts, moving backwards to keep her in focus*
I successfully hacked the computer of Dr Geveart, the useless quack shrink who's been counselling me. It was a good place to start; firewall was easy to disable, virus was easy to install. Within minutes I'd downloaded his personal logs on me. And a good job I did, too. He knew far too much, was getting far too suspicious.
*A distant rumble becomes a roar as a Gallente shuttle tears across the night sky, coming about to circle the complex. The camera drone shakes a little from the blast of the shuttle's thrusters as it makes its final decent and touches down on the pad. Celia pauses to watch, waiting for the noise to subside before turning back to the camera*
In the morning, they will no doubt find the bodies of Mr Cole and Dr Geveart. So I will take my leave now. I'm looking forward to catching up with my colleagues; it surprises me how much I've actually missed them... Vince's humour, Kimochi's outfits, Milo's eyes...
*Celia sighs wistfully, her face softening with a gentle smile as she leans over the railing, watching ground-crew scurry around the shuttle.
She reaches into her PRETA flight-jacket, takes out a small crystal hip-flask and tosses it from hand to hand thoughtfully. After a few moments she lets the flask fall over the railing, down fifty feet to the tarmac, shattering on impact.
The wind picks up, whipping her hair back across her face; through the glossy black tresses, her eyes narrow, glittering in the dark like the fragments of broken crystal on the tarmac below. She smiles, self-assured.*
I have work to get back to. Camera off.
*Video feed ends*
2009-06-02
AWOL
*Data transfer begins - file 7740901086dekc.doc
From: seb.geveart65
To: unknown user*
Dr Sebastien Geveart
Paix de l'Esprit Private Rehabilitation Clinic
Goinard III
Nadire
***CONFIDENTIAL***
Patient: 7740901086 DeKline, Celia
111.16.05
New patient today; a capsuleer. She has submitted herself voluntarily, claiming she has severe amnesia and a drink problem. And she's going to be paying us handsomely for telling her what's wrong with her? Capsuleers obviously have more money than sense. This should prove interesting.
111.17.05
First session proper with Ms DeKline. Very amiable at first as we went over the pleasantries, but she became evasive and hostile when I asked her about her employment. It became apparent she was no longer willing to co-operate in the session, so I recommend she spend some time to herself around the facility. She agreed and spent the rest of the day painting in E-Block.
111.21.05
My patient is going through the most difficult stage of drying-out; her mood swings are extremely erratic, she has attacked staff and she is shaking badly. All part of the process. She has agreed to my recommendation that she does not board her capsule for the duration of the program.
111.29.05
Ms DeKline makes good progress; she has abstained from alcohol for nearly a fortnight. She has kept her mind occupied by learning to play the harmophone; this is very encouraging. Now she is more relaxed and her mind isn't fuddled with booze, I might be able to get some sense out of her.
111.31.05
Ms DeKline still refuses to indulge me with any details of her occupation, family or friends. I'm beginning to suspect she may be involved in the underworld and she is no doubt aware that many patients here are from the CONCORD stations in the system. Still, what she has revealed of her background has proven very interesting; most peculiar for a Brutor, she is in denial of her racial heritage and thinks of herself as Gallentean. It's as if she's trying to escape from something, but she can't because she doesn't know what she's running from. I'm beginning to enjoy this - she is far more interesting, and attractive, than those boring cops moaning about cabin-fever.
111.01.06
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, she clams up again. I've established that she must have experienced some deep trauma as a child and her amnesia is a defence mechanism - she had the nerve to call me an amateur and that she had figured that out for herself. She refused to talk about her childhood; she snapped, saying that was a matter only Milo could help her with. When I asked her who he was, she just glared at me and denied saying anything. She is so frustrating.
111.07.06
My patient has now gone 22 days without drinking and appears to be coping well. She has been spending a lot of time in the facility gym and in her quarters playing her harmophone. Her temper has subsided and she is occasionally pleasant company. But she still has a passive, vacant look about her; unfortunately, I have made no further progress on discovering the trauma that haunts her.
111.14.06
Whilst my patient's progress with her alcoholism has been commendable, I have all but given up with her psychiatric evaluation; she simply does not trust me enough to open up. This week I noticed she has been spending time with another patient, Lance Cole. He's an ex-cop who spent too long working on the consoles in the cybercrime division. He's delusional, thinks CONCORD are trying to reprogram him. They talk for hours in the common room; if Ms DeKline is indeed a criminal as I suspect, they may have a lot to discuss.
111.16.06
It has been one month since we admitted the patient and I'm pleased to say that she has successfully overcome her addiction to alcohol. It is unfortunate that we can't help with her underlying issues, but we have done all we can; the patient's deliberate evasive attitude makes progress virtually impossible. Still, it is my hope that with a clearer head, a more positive outlook and her natural determination, she will discover and confront whatever lurks within.
Ms DeKline has expressed satisfaction with her own progress and the help offered by myself and the staff here. In fact, just this morning she told me confidently that she didn't need me anymore; something I can only take as a compliment!
She has stated her intention to discharge herself at the end of this week.
*Data transfer ends - connection terminated*
From: seb.geveart65
To: unknown user*
Dr Sebastien Geveart
Paix de l'Esprit Private Rehabilitation Clinic
Goinard III
Nadire
***CONFIDENTIAL***
Patient: 7740901086 DeKline, Celia
111.16.05
New patient today; a capsuleer. She has submitted herself voluntarily, claiming she has severe amnesia and a drink problem. And she's going to be paying us handsomely for telling her what's wrong with her? Capsuleers obviously have more money than sense. This should prove interesting.
111.17.05
First session proper with Ms DeKline. Very amiable at first as we went over the pleasantries, but she became evasive and hostile when I asked her about her employment. It became apparent she was no longer willing to co-operate in the session, so I recommend she spend some time to herself around the facility. She agreed and spent the rest of the day painting in E-Block.
111.21.05
My patient is going through the most difficult stage of drying-out; her mood swings are extremely erratic, she has attacked staff and she is shaking badly. All part of the process. She has agreed to my recommendation that she does not board her capsule for the duration of the program.
111.29.05
Ms DeKline makes good progress; she has abstained from alcohol for nearly a fortnight. She has kept her mind occupied by learning to play the harmophone; this is very encouraging. Now she is more relaxed and her mind isn't fuddled with booze, I might be able to get some sense out of her.
111.31.05
Ms DeKline still refuses to indulge me with any details of her occupation, family or friends. I'm beginning to suspect she may be involved in the underworld and she is no doubt aware that many patients here are from the CONCORD stations in the system. Still, what she has revealed of her background has proven very interesting; most peculiar for a Brutor, she is in denial of her racial heritage and thinks of herself as Gallentean. It's as if she's trying to escape from something, but she can't because she doesn't know what she's running from. I'm beginning to enjoy this - she is far more interesting, and attractive, than those boring cops moaning about cabin-fever.
111.01.06
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, she clams up again. I've established that she must have experienced some deep trauma as a child and her amnesia is a defence mechanism - she had the nerve to call me an amateur and that she had figured that out for herself. She refused to talk about her childhood; she snapped, saying that was a matter only Milo could help her with. When I asked her who he was, she just glared at me and denied saying anything. She is so frustrating.
111.07.06
My patient has now gone 22 days without drinking and appears to be coping well. She has been spending a lot of time in the facility gym and in her quarters playing her harmophone. Her temper has subsided and she is occasionally pleasant company. But she still has a passive, vacant look about her; unfortunately, I have made no further progress on discovering the trauma that haunts her.
111.14.06
Whilst my patient's progress with her alcoholism has been commendable, I have all but given up with her psychiatric evaluation; she simply does not trust me enough to open up. This week I noticed she has been spending time with another patient, Lance Cole. He's an ex-cop who spent too long working on the consoles in the cybercrime division. He's delusional, thinks CONCORD are trying to reprogram him. They talk for hours in the common room; if Ms DeKline is indeed a criminal as I suspect, they may have a lot to discuss.
111.16.06
It has been one month since we admitted the patient and I'm pleased to say that she has successfully overcome her addiction to alcohol. It is unfortunate that we can't help with her underlying issues, but we have done all we can; the patient's deliberate evasive attitude makes progress virtually impossible. Still, it is my hope that with a clearer head, a more positive outlook and her natural determination, she will discover and confront whatever lurks within.
Ms DeKline has expressed satisfaction with her own progress and the help offered by myself and the staff here. In fact, just this morning she told me confidently that she didn't need me anymore; something I can only take as a compliment!
She has stated her intention to discharge herself at the end of this week.
*Data transfer ends - connection terminated*
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