Hologram

A Lesson in Psychology

Only a metre or so lay between the woman and the boy, and he was finding it more and more uncomfortable. She dressed completely in black, her face covered by giant sunglasses and a large, ominous headscarf. Jason couldn't see an inch of her face underneath. He wondered if she had some sort of disfiguring skin disease.

"Ghosts, you say? And how long have you been seeing them?" She spoke with a thick foreign accent, and lengthened her s's, like a cobra. Her thumbs danced with each other and she sat across from Jason, her hands clasped and her body concentrated entirely on her new visitor. He could hear her raspy breaths as she waited for an answer.

The notebook and pen lay unused.

Jason swivelled in his chair and turned once more to face his councellor. "Since as far back as I can remember," he said for the umpteenth time.

"And what do they look like?" The woman cocked her head to the side. She had been introduced by the receptionist as a Ms. Kal.  "Are they normal or do they have tentacles, green skin . . .?"

"No," Jason grabbed the edge of the desk to stop him spinning back once more, "they look perfectly normal. Like you or I. Except they're sorta see-through."

"I see." The lady nodded once, and fell still. This latest counselling session was yet another complete waste of time. Jason was just about to ask if he could go when, "And what do your family make of this?"

"They think I'm lying. They think I'm an attention seeker, a liar, a story-teller." Pause, "Do you think I'm lying?"

Ms. Kal looked at Jason. He could not see her eyes through the shade of her lenses, but he knew that she was squinting, trying to find a shred of dishonesty in him. Evidently, she couldn't, because: "No. I think you are telling the truth, young man."

Jason knew she was lying. No sane person believed the mad ramblings of a sixteen-year-old boy, who claimed he could see ghosts. Then again, no sane sixteen-year-old boy claimed he could see ghosts. Maybe both of them were insane. Who knew?

"Thanks, " was all Jason could think of saying in reply. The woman nodded. Buoyed by this new trust which his counsellor was giving him, Jason added, "There's something else."

"Yes?" Her voice was so sweet that Jason thought he was going to turn diabetic. She cocked her head to the side, once again.

"Last week. . . last week, one of them looked at me. As in, directly in the eye. It knew I was there." Just thinking about it gave him shivers. He had spent the week sleeping on the downstairs sofa, and had only moved back into his room the night before, after moving the mirror into another room.

Ms. Kal kept on staring at Jason, before clearing her throat and announcing with a strange finality, "That will be all for today. You can go now, dear." She stood up and opened the door for Jason. He could see straight down the corridor, with its brass knobs and pristine doors, each one a gateway to a room where yet another child was retelling his demented delusions to some falsely compassionate counsellor.

"Wait! What about what I just told you? Am I going mad?" Jason couldn't help it; he had to ask. The thought was trying him crazy.

"Don't worry, dear. I will send someone to your house to check upon you. Everything will be normal very soon."

With a push, Jason emerged into the bright hall, and the door clicked shut behind him. He could hear Ms. Kal's raspy breath as she made her way back to her chair. Just as he was about to wish her goodbye through the door, someone at the end of the hallway said,

 "Well, that was a lesson in psychology, wasn't it?"