The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

29

Doctor Crane's voice comes from the other side of his office walls. "Are you going to come in, Sienna?"

I freeze, where I had been anxiously pacing moments before. Wringing my hands together. Mustering up the courage to see him, trying to push all memories of last night from my mind.

I clear my throat softly and push the door open.

"You could hear me?" I ask, looking around for the clinical chair. It's not here.

Doctor Crane doesn't glance up from his paperwork. "In those shoes, the whole of Arkham can hear you."

I scowl. "Then I'll be sure to stomp extra loud."

He makes a small noise of amusement. "Take a seat." He gestures to the leather armchairs in front of his desk. "I'll only be a moment."

I do as he says, sinking into the cool leather. Surreptitiously, I try to read his face, discern his thoughts. See if there's any hint of embarrassment or recognition.

But he maintains his even, focused composure. I focus intently on his freshly shaven jaw, the ridge of his collarbones, the rim of his glasses. His hair — I can still remember how his hair felt between my fingers. How I tugged on it as he—

"You may have noticed our treatment sessions have concluded," Doctor Crane tells me. "There's nothing more I can do for you in the office."

"But... What about my nightmares?" I ask.

He cocks his head. "Are nightmares still bothering you, Sienna?"

My phone pings from my bag. I ignore it. "I still feel fear."

"Of course you do. It's a natural human instinct."

I stare at him incredulously for a moment. "Isn't the whole point of our research to suppress that instinct?"

He smiles as he shakes his head. "No. I made the same mistake when I first began my career. Fear can never be eviscerated. It can only be controlled. Reduced to no more powerful an emotion than any other. We can become one with it. Accept it. Reach a place where we control fear... it no longer has any power over us. To do that, we must be greater than it." His head tilts. "Now, tell me. How does this affect the ethics of our research?"

"The subjects maintain free will," I say quietly. "We wouldn't be sending soldiers mindlessly into battle. They'll still keep all their instincts. But their decision-making will be objective."

He nods. "Very good. And with that in mind, I believe we are ready to begin preparing for the next step in our research. By the time we've treated your nightmares, we'll want to move quickly. I expect you hope to complete your dissertation sooner than later, after all."

My phone pings again. Once more, I ignore it. "Yes."

"How do you wish to proceed? Or, should I ask — how do the ethics propose you proceed? Preliminary research, your own conception and gestation and birthing of our first subject? Or finding other subjects to be the first?"

I take a small breath. "There's a problem, Doctor Crane." My phone pings yet again — jeez, what is happening? — and Jonathan waits expectantly as I gather my thoughts. "The genetics. Whether we conduct research on me or someone else, there's the factor of the Y chromosome to consider. If the paternal parent of the offspring has not been treated with fear toxin for all phobias, to a satisfactory standard, the offspring has every chance of being contaminated."

He nods thoughtfully. "I have considered this myself."

"You have?"

"Of course. There are other complications. Couples separate. Face infertility. There's miscarriage, stillbirth. All cause serious emotional damage. Far strong enough to distort our results."