cannibalmind | For lastvoyages: Fifth Casefile [text]

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For lastvoyages: Fifth Casefile [text]

[private]
Blood Pudding, Classic Recipe:

1 quart human blood
12 ounces bread crumbs
1/2 lb. suet
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 quart milk
1 cup cooked barley
1 cup dry rolled oats
1 ounce ground mint

Mix all ingredients together in a bowl; pour into a large kettle or Dutch oven and bring to a boil. Pour into a wide shallow bowl and season again if necessary. Chill thoroughly, until firm. When cold it may be cut into slices and fried.

[public]
What a fascinating study in casual human depravity. I imagine that several of you must be severely traumatized by the Admiral's latest idea of a quick vacation. If a sympathetic professional ear is needed, my door is always open.

[private to T-X]
I refuse to offboard at any more Ports without a weapon.

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[A hitching cough.] Yes? Hm. Well, at the moment I have nothing but time to listen. Though I do have to say that for a troubled person you do generally carry yourself quite well.

Really? I'm always-- It always makes me think that everyone can tell. [He sounds pleased. Still drunk, but pleased. It's nice to be told he carries himself well.] I do try hard though, Brother. I am always trying to do this. To do it as it should be done, Brother.

I have an inmate, you know.

Our vulnerabilities gnaw at our sense of self and make one feel that they are obvious. That is absolutely common and it is no surprise that you feel that way. But do understand that you are not alone in this. I rarely meet anyone without insecurities and troubles of some sort. [His breath hitches and he pauses for a moment to take a swallow of water.]

Honor is important, as is holding oneself to a high standard. Unfortunately even the greatest of us fail to meet our own marks sometimes. And if, for example, a man is forced against the grain of his own ideals...it is deeply traumatic.

Ah, you do. Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I have a Warden. She is not well liked, but speaking with her has been...illuminating.

[There's a long, contemplative pause, before Prefect replies.]

What if, Comrade, hypothetically, a man is forced back into the grain of a set of ideals which-- [He falters, briefly] What I mean to say Comrade, is what if there were some bits... some aspects Brother, which resonated with that man? Not the, uhh, the sex or the surgery, but what if some of the other parts, even though they were still absolutely, and definitely wrong... What if I enjoyed them? What if I miss them?

[He nods at the comment about having a warden, even if Lecter can't see it. That's good. It's nice to have a warden!]

I had a warden. He wasn't particularly well liked either, sometimes. Who's yours?

Edited 2012-02-29 03:30 (UTC)

[He thinks back to Prefect's rant, which he had watched from his Infirmary bed.]

Any ideal can be taken to perverse extremes. You believe in the general good, as I understand it: duty to community. But take an idealist of that vein, and place him in a situation where there is no greater good save for what is fed to one by the powers that be...and what choice does he have?

I do not know if you are familiar with Stockholm Syndrome, so I will explain it in the way that it applies in the case of your alternate. A person who is left in a situation of absolute powerlessness for an extended period of time will often identify to a fanatical degree with their oppressors. If a man of your apparent ideals should end up oppressed into such an unnatural level of loyalty, of course he will manifest his ideals in a way that they would approve of, and to an extreme degree. They are still his ideals...only twisted.

If you came from a community with similarities to our Port, there is part of you that is wired for living in that world. What is familiar is comforting, even if it is no longer a useful pattern or philosophy to maintain in its current form. But mix that with the extremism of your alternate's emotional situation, and it will have an even more potent effect.

My initial suggestion is that you consider those missed parts of your old life as something...that had value for you in their time, but are simply not appropriate for your life now. Like damaging friendships or relationships you will naturally mourn their loss, but must gently but firmly move on.

As for my Warden, she is the TX Unit.

Comrade... [He trails off, because those are many words which apply to him, and he has many thoughts to construct about them.]

...Comrade. Brother. Is there some way that you can use to-- to be able to tell? If you still have Stockholm Syndrome or not?

Arthas said to me that I could be put in any kingdom anywhere, and that I'd... I don't know. I'd fit in. I'd 'ssimi-- assimil-- [He clears his throat:] Because I'd learn to believe whatever they thought there. O'Brien said it too, that I was a warden here because of the same thing. Because Stockholm Syndrome, and sometimes, I think about leaving and it does make me feel sick, Brother.

The T-X. She's the blonde robot lady, isn't she? [Short pause] I don't know her too well, Comrade, but she seems quite compelling...

I could perform a screening on you if you wish. However I doubt that it will be entirely necessary. People who are truly mired within the Syndrome will be so protective of it that they will not even consider the idea. You may have a touch of it; I cannot tell yet. But...and forgive me...

If you are a man who connects emotionally and socially with the society around you, values it and responds to it--be it a kingdom or the odd little society here on the Barge--why is that bad? If approached in a balanced fashion, without extremes, it strikes me as a virtue. The ability to blend in, to become one with the community and make its concerns your own, is something that can be admirable. It could be one of your greatest strengths once you master it.

I believe that the key for you is moderation and self knowledge. Such assimilation should be something you choose to do, not something you need to do or do as reflex.

Also...on a personal note...I actually have no particular wish to leave this place myself, even though I am currently an Inmate.

[He pauses, wondering why he just confided that. But what was done was done.]

Miss Anderson, as I call her, is a being whose very existence has caused me to question certain of my assumptions and habits.

...Thank you, Comrade. [The self doubt is still there, and the guilt and fear, but that was something that he'd never been told before, and it's a nice perspective to hear.] I'd never thought of it like that, honestly. I'm just always afraid that my decisions, and my morals, can't be trusted.

[He pauses, very briefly, then asks:]

Why do you want to stay here?

Confidence will come with time and experience in your new mode. [A brief coughing fit and a hrumph] I am assuming you have only been here a few years, of course.

And actually...thank you. The opportunity to give counsel is...I missed it.

[He leans back and considers his words.] Back in my world I am a criminal, an outlaw, a fugitive. I can never hold a public practice again. But this place....

The need for a practicing psychotherapist--at least one--is intense here. And the people that I would be treating...! Imagine it, comrade. People from alternate societies, the future, the past, magickal worlds, worlds where space travel is common...and all thrown into most unusual circumstances on a regular basis. To be a part of a society wherein my skills are needed, and my background not that unusual...it is a fascinating idea.

Two and a half an inmate, and...a little over one year as a warden.

Well... in that case, brother, I'm glad that I needed your advice. I guess it must be strange, being able to do something that's...that's so good for people, and then knowing that you can never do that again where you originally came from.

I'm glad that you actually want what this place is offering you, Brother.

Could I ask what it was that you did, back home? [People don't tend to notice this about Prefect, but his tendencies to obsessing over his work have made him a little self absorbed since he was assigned to Barron, and honestly, all the public warnings about Hannibal have more or less passed him bye.]

It is. I never expected that aspect. There are things I could do here, accomplishments I could attain and actual...good...[he seems to taste the word] I could do, if only I can work to earn local trust.

What I did? Well.

[How to explain? His rage is more or less under control under the TX's watchful eye, and he has been given much food for thought since coming here. So...]

I was, by any standard, a very evil man. My sense of revenge was...theatrical...and involved several deaths. [And sometimes he just killed people because they insulted him or were in the way. But that part he glosses over, feeling an unaccustomed twitch of shame.] In fact when I first came here the TX did well to watch me constantly. I realize that now.

[A soft laugh. It's easier to confide now that Prefect has done so. And he feels he needs to. Perhaps it's the drugs, or the pain, or just...the irony of it all.]

My turning points always happen at ports. First I found myself a benevolent, redeemed seller of potions, and then...died on an end stage world.

You know...I liked being the potion seller.

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For lastvoyages: Fifth Casefile [text]

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