Part 6

Please read part 1 here.

Please read part 2 here.

Please read part 3 here.

Please read part 4 here.

Please read part 5 here.

Nada.

I resisted smirking at the look on Gregor's face as the subject walked away, deciding to focus on that rather than the impudence the subject was displaying. This is why I never did like to directly deal with them; their problem-riddled minds, while fascinating, did always tend to make them testier than most. I never did possess patience. That was Gregor's forte.

“You've dug us into a deep hole, Gregor. A very deep hole,” I murmured, adopting a look of mock concern. No event was negative, in my eyes. In Gregor's, however, any event that adversely affected the subject was not a beneficial one. In my opinion, it is just one more clue that reveals more of the subject. Psychotic outbursts are easier to interpret than repressive silence, after all. If they break, they did so for a reason and that reason is often fairly easy to realize when you're going back to pick up the pieces. Gregor doesn't seem to understand that. She races against the natural order of things, trying to prevent that which is inevitable.

“Shut up, Emmerich.”

“I am curious about that folder though,” I remarked aloud, undisturbed by the response. She was in a dark mood, I could tell, but I figure now was better than ever to bring the subject up. “It appears to be an obsessive point with the subject,” 'As if that weren't obvious the moment he walked through our door.' “We should find it before he does and rifle through it a bit; truly, something that holds so much importance to him should be consequential to his psyche. I propose we band together on this, as I'm sure you're as curious as I am.”

Gregor shot me one of those 'dirty looks' she seems fond of giving me when I talk of matters regarding subjects as she began pulling out her English books. “You're horrible, you know that?”

I sighed, deciding to go a different angle. Pure curiosity does not drive Gregor, as it does me. She also has to have some higher motive, regarding ethics and some such. “You don't believe simply finding and returning the folder to the subject will completely help him, do you? He'll simply lose it again and regress back to this state. There's a reason for his psychosis and we can divulge it from that folder of his. Where else will we gather information? He just admitted to our faces he has nothing even remotely like an acquaintance. This is the easiest way. The key to aiding him may lie there as well.” I added. She glanced at me at that. I resisted a victorious smirk and returned the gaze steadily.

She turned back to the front with a sigh. “Fine. I'll give you the list of suspects I mentioned in Art.”

“Good-”

“But, not now.”

I glared at the back of her head. “You enjoy aggravating me, don't you?”

“Just as much as you do me. Now stop it. You're going to bore holes into my head if you continue with that death stare of yours.”

“That was my intention,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Silence, Gregor, the teacher is speaking.”

…

It was the end of the day. I pushed along through the hallways, wondering where Gregor went. We usually walked to the bus lines together, where we board the bus the subject takes home. I had lost sight of the subject as well. Oh well, he'll turn up sooner or later-

“Dr. Emmerich.”

I glanced to my side, and saw that the subject had fallen into step beside me, an amazing feat with how crammed these hallways were with rambunctious children.

“Hello,” I replied shortly, admittedly slightly surprised the subject even approached me. The few times he did at all were when Gregor was with me. I assumed he had sensed her willingness to help, and as such, merely wanted to pressure her into retrieving that folder, which currently seemed to be his sole purpose now. Surely, he didn't come to try to ask me about that folder of his? I believe I had already made it obvious enough I wasn't one for empathy.

“My folder-”

“Is still missing, yes.” I cut him off half-way, already knowing he was going to spout the same routine words. Gregor would say being approached by a subject was a nominal chance to try to get a look into his psyche. I say so far the subject has been nothing but a broken record. He fell silent, as if waiting for the usual comforts Gregor normally offers. I didn't contribute. I wanted this conversation to be done with as quickly as possible; it is of no use to me since I can't analyze accurately observations involving myself.

The subject stared at me with eyes black as coal.

“You will find that folder for me.”

I looked up, refraining from allowing the subject to see the irritation written on my face. “Yes.” I answered simply, hoping for that much to placate him. He seems calmer than usual; perhaps Gregor's abnormally submissive nature in front of the subject invites his more aggressive tendencies. That was good; I would not be able to resist snapping back if he treated me the same way he did Gregor.

My direct reply seemed to mollify him somewhat, but distrust was still evident in his eyes. He fell back until he was lost once again in the crowd, and I didn't attempt to stop him nor follow.

That was enough interaction for this whole case.


Regards,



Dr. Demyan Emmerich

Subjects are observed, not cajoled. Emotions that are your own introduce unnecessary variables.

Please read Part 7 here (coming soon).

Second Time is a Charm

Please read part 1 here.

Please read part 2 here.

Please read part 3 here.

Please read part 4 here.

No hay vuelta atrás.

“Miko Wu is the most fascinating subject that has come in a long time. Even you can’t dispute me on this,” I said. Emmerich glared at me; you could practically see the word “skepticism” branded across his face. I always had a way with framing arguments with him. “I see you’ve been working on your logos arguments. Well done.” Score.

Satisfied, I began to reflect on the immense value this case study would serve to humanity. Throughout the years of this so-called institution of “high school”, hundreds of people have pondered the underlying framework of the caste system developed almost by nature in high school. It’s been a topic of great concern due to the fact that, well, it’s fascinating.

How do teenagers implicitly understand the workings of their own society? It simply consists of unwritten rules, intuition, and a natural leader.

The perfect opportunity to see high school society in action? Lunch. Cliques divide as soon as the first person steps into the cafeteria. Jocks go with the jocks, nerds go with the nerds, goths go with the goths.

There is no need for a person to lecture on how the system works; everyone already knows it by heart. The “lame” kids don’t mess with the “popular” kids; the “popular” kids don’t mess with “the popular kids”. You could compare the social networks to the Union Pacific Railroad—thousands of pathways available.

From the brief time I observed Mr. Wu, I knew he had to be at the bottom of the pyramid. Even though he acted strange, he had this particular feeling that he emitted. For some unexplained reason you just didn’t want to get close with him, you couldn’t trust him.

The key to figuring out the idiosyncrasies of high school society is to find the underdog. “Popular” kids have other tragedies to worry about: who’s dating who, who won the football game, who scuffed their brand new $5000 shoes. No, the underdog knows it all. They have the time and perspicacity to comprehend the social structure underlying all high schools.

Mr. Wu is the underdog. And he’s the only one who could help us with this question of the century.

--

“Oh, Emmerich, it’s just like the good ‘ol days! Let’s compare schedules!” Emmerich shot me that infamous death stare (as I like to call it) and shoved a crumpled piece of paper at me. “I can’t believe you convinced me into doing this, Gregor.”

“It’s high school. We’re profound psychologists. Or in other words, simply marvelous. We’ve survived it once; second time’s a charm!”

“I believe you mean third time’s a charm, but lightning strike me now if you make me do this again.”

“Lighten up! Imagine all of the publicity we’ll receive once again when we publish this dissertation! Ah, I see the stars in your eyes again!”

“That’s because I’m emotionally disturbed by these children in the hallways. Did you see that girl back there? Her companion pushed her into me! Her scream was so high-pitched I’m surprised my eardrums didn’t pop on the spot.”

I rolled my eyes at Emmerich; he wasn’t any fun in high school the first time either. I handed back his schedule, covered with my scribbles. We had the exact same schedule. Guidance was never that generous back then. I had to beg and plead with Ms. Jacobson to switch me out of—ugh, I hate even thinking of the word—physical education for AP Biology. How could she even begin to comprehend the fact that P.E. was more beneficial for me?

I snapped out of my nostalgic daydream when Emmerich amicably punched my shoulder. First block was English Literature. My passion for writing was about 1/10 away from my passion for psychology.

Mr. Wu did not see Emmerich and I immediately. However, once attendance was taken he immediately glanced over his shoulder towards us. I half-smiled and Emmerich paid no attention. I assumed he was "day-dreaming", in Emmerich's sense of the word.

After class, Mr. Wu stealthily walked up to us; I jumped when I saw he was there. "Why are you here? In my classroom? Did you find my folder? Please tell me you found my folder!"

"I'm sorry, Mr—I mean, Miko. We did not find your folder."

"But Dr. Gregor—"

"Please, call me Calina. It is high school, after all. Consider us your friends."

"I don't have any friends nor will I ever have friends. All I need in my life is that folder. Okay, Calina?"

I looked away, feeling as inferior to this seventeen-year-old as I would have when I was seventeen. "You're involved in a case study, Mr. Wu." I figured switching to formality would lighten the situation. I didn't want to anger him again.

"No, you do not have my permission, Dr. Gregor!"

"See, Gregor? We can go home now," Emmerich piped in.

"Please, Mr. Wu? We'll have a better chance of observing your surroundings to help you find your folder. We'll be killing two birds with one stone."

"What is the case study? Will it really benefit with helping to find my folder? Don't lie to me, Dr. Gregor."

"We are studying the innate social structure that high school envelops. Yes, observing the people around you will further assist us in finding 'suspects', or whatever you may call them."

"Fine; but you better intertwine this case study with my search."

“Of course, Mr. Wu.”

“Thank you.”

With those final words, he quickly disappeared out of the room.

"You've dug us into a deep hole, Gregor. A very deep hole."

Signing off,

Dr. Calina Gregor | The brain is more than you can imagine.

Please read part 6 here.

A Heart?

Please read part 1 here.

Please read part 2 here.

Please read part 3 here.

Verdad.

Dear Diary,

Sunday afternoon, after recovering from a horrible flu, I received news that my friend, Miko, lost his noteworthy purple folder. You may, by the way, play a pun by removing the “e” in noteworthy; for in my sane mind, the only salient aspect of that folder is its color – and that would be purple.

The reason why I am venting this to you, dear diary, is that I have no other confidante that I can trust as much as I do you and Miko. Unfortunately, the other option is quite insane – literally.

I also heard that he was a speculative subject of some weirdos who think they are the greatest psychologists the world has ever seen. In fact, are they even real psychologists? I saw them prancing around school, hopefully with permission, following his every move and every… I really don’t know what to say.

Nonetheless and with concern, I followed them as they followed him; with permission, of course. And I bet, at the end of their little exposé, they may find that in their field, there is someone else who is as formidable as they think they are. Notwithstanding, they were indeed making progress in their little research, albeit rather oddly.

Miko also reported that he asked the duo’s assistance in his purple folder search. To my dismay, he never consulted me. I wonder why.

Really, I do.

Even so, I stalking-ly looked inside his red file folder where he keeps all his speculations about this case. Note: I had nothing to do with the disappearance of the purple folder, and I have an alibi.

Really.

Anyways, as I searched and searched for something to pique my interest, I found this:

Thus I have all the reasons to say that other than the purple folder, my friend has encountered yet another dilemma. In this case, it is his heart… something that has probably stricken him more vigorously than my dreadful flu.

Sincerely,

Francis Medvedev, a friend of no exceptions.

Please read part 5 here.

Dr. Demyan Emmerich

Please read part 1 here.

Please read part 2 here.

La experiencia era nuevo. Era nuevo, no refinado.

“Interesting, indeed,” I muttered as I stalked down the narrow corridors of Brooksville High school. A scream shrilled in my ear before I was shoved to the wall by one female student who, laughing, shoved her companion back. Shooting the pair an ineffectual glare, I straightened before hurrying forward, feeling the pressure of a hundred other students building behind me.

How, you may wonder, have I, Dr. Demyan Emmerich of much illustrious fame, come to this? I’ll begin by pinning the brunt of the blame on Dr. Gregor.

“This is ridiculous!”

“You know we must do this, Emmerich.”

“No. You will not back me into a corner on this!”

“Miko Wu is the most fascinating subject that has come in a long time. Even you can’t dispute me on this.”

“…I see you’ve been working on your logos arguments. Well done.”

“Well, Emmerich?”

“Still, really, Gregor? …High school?”

…

And thus, my situation now.

Gregor was unfailingly stubborn, as she tends to be, and even refuted my idea of setting up cameras about the school. There was the legality aspect, as she had quickly pointed out, but really. The law has nothing on the evolving discoveries of the human mind. Any court would

recognize that.

Nonetheless, I can somewhat admit that Miko Wu is quite the enigmatic subject. Observing him in his natural habitat is a given. Enrolling in highschool even after the acquisition of a doctorate is not. As it stands now, I currently am scheduled to have merely two classes with the subject, one of those with Gregor. It was ridiculous, this ‘public school system’. They would not heed my demands no matter how many letters I wrote to this so-called ‘Guidance’.

I entered Literature Class and caught sight of the subject settling down at his desk. I was not assigned a seat near him, but that does not perturb me too much; I do not need to be near to observe. Watching him prepare for class, I remember the issue about the folder. He seemed quite incensed about that, but does not outwardly show many obvious signs regarding it. Gregor knows more about the folder than I do; her being an easier confidante of the subject’s due to her more understanding personality. That’s fine for now. I do not need to be bogged down by excess details at the moment. I need only observe. Yes, the absence of the folder appears to be the main cause of his distress, but I needn’t push events that could easily happen naturally. The hows and whys will culminate in a beautiful climax where everything shall fall into place, all the data that I had gathered up until that point coming together in such a way that it almost seems irresistibly magnetic.

I will know then.

“Hey, Demyan.”

I snapped out of my thoughts to nod at Gregor, who stared at me from my seat next to her in art.

“I see you’re highly busy,” she said, a sarcastic tilt to her lips.

I stared at my sketch, which had been in progress for days.

“Of course,” I brushed it off. “You appear to be doing well, as usual,” I commented, glancing at

her 4th piece of the week. Gregor was always doing something, which I suppose is one of her more better qualities. I, myself, am lost in contemplation more often than not.

“Yeah. Miko’s still pretty freaked about his folder. I don’t really know where it could’ve gone.”

“Mmhmm,” I said, listening as I tried to get some work done on my sketch. Failing art would be an abhorrence. Gregor sometimes relayed information to me. She was useful in that way, having more connections than I. I will readily admit she has more of a social prowess than I do. I do not consider being socially advanced a particular accomplishment, but it has its benefits. She is more connected to the ‘grape vine’, so to speak, and it does give an ambient perspective.

“He thinks someone took it. There was a list of suspects.”

I paused in curiosity. These ‘suspects’ have the possibility of holding a link to the subject’s labyrinth of a conscience. They themselves could shed more light onto the side that eludes us, as intangible as shadow.

“I’m listening.”

Regards,

Dr. Demyan Emmerich

Subjects are observed, not cajoled. Emotions that are your own introduce unnecessary variables.

Please read part 4 here.

Dr. Calina Gregor

Please read part 1 here.

El cerebo es un tema fascinante, pero Señor Wu era notable.

My colleague Dr. Demyan Emmerich and I were very curious about our main subject Miko Wu.

Being world-renowned psychologists, he and I chose Miko to be involved in our case study of high school’s implicit ways of constructing a caste system due to the fact that Miko was like no other individual we had ever met before.

Dr. Demyan and I have been around the block a few times; we’ve seen everything that is to be seen related to the brain and its extremely intricate workings, fascinating and compelling subjects with conditions no one with an average intelligence could fathom. However, Miko Wu was quite different.

Psychology is my passion; I could never love anything as much as I do the human mind. To call the human mind an “interesting” or “awesome” subject would to serve the entire area of study a complete insult. You might as well call a diamond “pretty” or “decent”—but I digress.

Seeing and observing everything I have seen and observed in my lifetime, Mr. Wu was extremely striking. His record was comparable to the length of the Bible. My memory of the day he walked into our office is crystal clear. Miko Wu is an unforgettable person; utter one word with him and it instantly becomes an indelible memory.

Mr. Wu is the living definition of contrast; he looked like a “normal” (define this word however you please) patient seeking help for a trivial matter: insomnia, dying relatives, or childhood trauma. He briskly walked over to us, slammed his record folder on the desk, and looked me right in the eye. His gaze never left me as he spoke.

“My folder—my folder—it’s gone—I need it back—help me—I need to find it—my life will end if I do not find it—Don’t just sit there!—I need to find my folder!—It’s quite simple.—It’s a plain, ordinary, purple folder.—Where is it?—Do you know where it is?—I can’t live my life without it.”

At a loss for words, I averted my eyes for a tenth of a second. That’s all he needed to set him off.

“I NEED MY FOLDER! WHY CAN’T YOU HELP ME FIND MY FOLDER? I’VE TORN MY HOUSE APART; THE CARPETS ARE RIPPED UP, BOOKS WERE TOSSED ON THE GROUND, I’M A SECOND AWAY FROM TEARING OFF THE DRYWALL.”

Dr. Emmerich, captivated by this outburst, tried to console him. He tried to shift Mr. Wu’s attention away from me, mistaking my insight for fear.

“Mr. Wu, we will most definitely help you look for your folder, whatever that object may be, but get a hold of yourself—sit down.”

Miko shot a glare at Dr. Emmerich. He glanced at me again and with a sigh of despair, sat down. His stiff posture emitted a tense aura; I decided to rethink my actions and adjust to his obviously fragile state.

“Mr. Wu, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself formally; I am Dr. Calina Gregor and this is my colleague Dr. Demyan Emmerich. What brings you to our office today?”

“Open the manila envelope. You’ll see…”

Following his instructions, Emmerich opened the envelope and a flood of pink slips began tumbling out onto the desk. We both grabbed a few. They were, to our surprise, referrals—from 100 different psychoanalysts, psychologists, and therapists. Each one was nicely printed, with an indecipherable scribble at the bottom; remarkably, on all of the slips, “Reason for Reference” was always left blank.

I turned to Emmerich, as Miko was deeply focused on some incipient thought, and whispered, “He has a million referrals without listed reason. Who is this kid and why haven’t we heard of his name before? He’s a psychological mess!”

“Well obviously he was referred to us because we are so brilliant.”

“Emmerich: focus. This kid has some serious issues that are boiling underneath his skin; something isn’t right. In fact, he may not be a psychological mess; he might be a psychological gold mine!”

“Gregor, there is nothing we can’t solve. We’ve helped thousands of people before; Wu will not be any different. There’s something with his gaze, I’ve noticed. It’s so intense yet I can see the fragility behind it. I don’t know what the hell this folder is, but its significance is monumental. Finding this folder could result in life or death.”

Before I could reply, I heard Mr. Wu clear his throat. We turned back to him. He didn’t move.

“I assume you two masterminds will help me find my folder. Here is a box full of evidence I’ve compiled. When is my next appointment?”

“Next appointment? But you just arrived fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Wu,” I exclaimed. “We still have 45 minutes in our session.”

“For once, I have to agree with Dr. Gregor. You simply must stay the whole session; we have a lot to discuss, especially since this is your first appointment.”

“Can you two honestly sit there with your high-hats and impressive doctorates hanging above your head, expecting me to believe that you are not concerned about this folder? I presumed ingenious professionals like yourselves would see the magnitude of this catastrophe! Give me my next referral, please. Dr. Hayes was obviously erroneous when she said you were the best psychologists in this universe.”

“Mr. Wu, we are indeed the best this world has to offer at the time but in order to empathize with you over a folder, containing items of such gravitas, you need to stay for the rest of your session and discuss it with us,” I replied.

He scoffed and looked away. “You all are so senseless. Who can’t see the importance this folder holds?”

Emmerich sighed and decided to give in for the both of us. “Mr. Wu, I will make a compromise with you.” He looked at Emmerich. “If we allow you to leave your session early today, you have to stay the entire time next week. It’s the only way we can help you.”

Mr. Wu shook his head, took his appointment card, and walked out. I turned towards Emmerich and said, “This is going to be interesting.”

http://www.dramabutton.com/

Signing off,

Dr. Calina Gregor | The brain is more than you can imagine.

Please read part 3 here.

The Purple Folder Mystery

Read Part 2 here.

Ayer, yo percibí como realidad que yo no pude encontrar mi carpeta MUY importante.

It was a day like any other...

It was a simple day: there were no ominous crows or dimensions untrue but deemed true, and cakes or ice-cream or things of sweet and sour... nor was it raining of blood, chocolate, or perhaps bloody-chocolate; it certainly was not a day when perverts and psycho-maniacs were born, I hope; it was a simple day with a lethargic morning, an afternoon, and a usual night.

It was a mere, mere day. A day, of which I should remind you, like any other day.

But gone it was... it was gone.

My purple folder. The folder that contains my life. The documents of my evils... and my goods. The signal of my humanity. The entity, the reason, that I remain to be good.

Thus in order not to lose the heart now beating, beating, within, I shall embark in a journey as a GREAT SLEUTH to solve this horrendous crime. This fuzzy mystery.

In my diagram below, I shall brief you of the events that have occured:

Yes! Dreadful!

I know!

And let my honor and love rest upon this, that the folder was and always has been in my handy container-pack. Always has and always SHOULD have been!

Now may I ask, What shall I do next? Where shall I go? I do not know. But I do know that there are those who conspire against me. Those evils! They have sent their ninjas and demons to create strife within my soul and upon the door'th of 'tis heart. 'Tis, 'tis beating, beating, within, heart.

So I list and list them FOR I shall uncover the truth! And when I do so, I shall return to them a karma more than deser-ved... a karma pure for scoundrels and tyrants of damnation and cruelty!

I shall feast upon their pain and savor upon the sadness and abhorrance of their conspirators. The crows will feast!

And there will be blood!

Love,

Miko Wu, an aspiring detective... going nuts.

Read Part 2 here.