Therapy: Part 1

Noise. Light. Blink. What? Voices. Pain. Smooth. Bed. Bed? White. Speed. Where? Dad. What? Where? Noise. So. Much. Noise.

Garbled nonsense. Gibberish. Makes no sense. Unbearable pain. Hostile environment? No, safe environment. Unfriendly, but necessary.

I’m in a hospital. Yes, that’s right. Have I been here before? I can’t remember. Then why am I here now? What’s going on? I’m in pain. I must have been in an accident. Am I bleeding? I can’t tell. My head hurts. I hurt all over, but my head really hurts. Can I move? Should I try? Might be dangerous.

Where am I? What’s going on? Where’s my Daddy?

-10001-

“Your name is Therapy.” A calm, soothing voice. “But your real name is Felicity Goodman.”

I turned to look at the man beside me. He was wearing a thick, padded outfit with steel reinforcements along the joints. His face was hidden by a cloth mask. He looked a bit like a ninja.

“Did you know that?” he asked gently.

“My name’s Felicity Goodman,” I croaked. “I know that.”

“Excellent.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m afraid you’ve suffered some injuries to your hippocampus. That’s a part of the brain, and it deals with episodic memory.”

“Hippocampus …” I said. Had I heard that word before? Seems familiar somehow.

“In short, you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia.” He said the last two words slowly and clearly. Wanting me to remember them, maybe. “As you’re no doubt aware, you’ve lost a significant portion of your memories. The further back in time we go, the more you ought to be able to remember. The ones nearest to the accident, you may never recover.”

He paused for a moment. Giving me time to think, maybe. But I preferred it when he spoke, and eventually, he started to speak again.

“Can you remember your family?” he asked.

“My father,” I said. “I want him.”

“Great,” said the stranger. “He’ll be coming to see you later today.”

“Why not now?”

“Because you’re a special case,” he explained. “You see, I told you earlier you had two names. And only two people know this. You and I.”

-10001-

I opened my eyes and looked around. The masked man was still beside me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You fell asleep,” he said. “Only natural, after the trauma. But I don’t have much time left, so I’ll need to bring you up to speed quite quickly.”

“Right.”

“Okay, here are the basics. You’re thirty-two years old, and a lecturer in the local university.”

Wow. A lecturer! I could remember the start of secondary school – starting GCSEs. GCSEs hadn’t been around long. I wondered if they even existed any more.

“In your spare time, you are a counsellor,” he said. “This may be a bit tricky. You see, you’re a costumed counsellor.” He chuckled. “So I suppose I’m technically doing your job now.”

I didn’t quite understand. A costumed counsellor? Did I do children’s parties? The man must have seen my confusion.

“You see, you used to be a superhero,” he said. “Called yourself Grey Matter. You once told me that you found this quite embarassing. Either way, you eventually retired from superheroics, mostly to focus on writing. You’ve authored three text books, by the way.”

“Wow,” I managed. This was so much to take in. I could just about remember being fifteen, and now, seventeen years later, I’m a lecturer, an author, and apparently, a former superhero. I latched onto this. “Hang on. I was a superhero?”

“That’s right.”

“A real superhero?”

“Oh, of course.” He sounded embarassed. “You can’t remember the superhero arrival.”

And so we took a break from learning about my life, and I learned how the world came to be introduced to superheroes.

-10001-

From the Wikipedia article on superheroes in the UK:

Origin

The term “superhero” originated in American comic books, although stories of superheroes crossed over into many media in the mid- to late-twentieth century.^{[citation needed]}

The first use of the term to describe genuine superheroes was in March of 2000, in Tony Blair’s famous speech in Bristol, where he proclaimed that “[Britain is] a nation that has known its fair share of fear. I myself was born in 1953, a child of the Cold War era. Today is not a day for soundbites, but know this – I will not allow this country to become a fight between terrorists and superheroes. Every day, I thank God that so many of the people affected by the Millennium Bug Virus have chosen to fight for good rather than turn to a life of crime, but that is not to say that I approve of vigilantes.”

History

The bulk of modern superheroes were created after a terrorist attack at midnight on the night of 31st of December, 1999. An unidentified group attacked a high number of resevoirs and dams in the United Kingdom.

The resevoirs were poisoned with a substance known as the Millennium Bug Virus. It is unkown whether the terrorists fully understood the effect of the substance. The number of deaths related to the incident was relatively small, with only two hundred and four fatalities reported nationwide. It is estimated that this is roughly the same number as the amount of civilians who developed superhuman powers after the incident^[1].

This section may require cleanup to meet Wikipedia’s quality standards.

Resevoirs Affected
See main article: Resevoirs Targetted By The Millennium Bug Virus

In England, these included all four resevoirs in the Avon area, Grafham Water in Cambridgeshire, two resevoirs in Cheshire, Drift Resevoir in Cornwall, two resevoirs in County Durham, six in Cumbria, thirteen in Derbyshire (including the Longdendale Chain), nine in Devon, Abberton Resevoir in Essex, Dowdeswell Resevoir in Gloucestershire, five resevoirs in Manchester, both resevoirs in Kent, ten in Lancashire, three in Leicestershire, three in London, eight in Northamptonshire, three in Northumberland, twelve in North Yorkshire, five in South Yorkshire, Eccup Resevoir in West Yorkshire, Farmoor Resevoir in Oxfordshire, Rutland Water in Rutland, two resevoirs in Somerset, six in Staffordshire, all twelve in Surrey, Draycote Water in Warwickshire, all nine in the West Midlands (including seven in Birmingham), Ardingly Resevoir in West Sussex and the Bittell Resevoirs (Upper and Lower) in Worcestershire.

In Scotland, these included Blackwater Resevoir near Kinlochleven, Loch Laggan and Loch Treig, Loch Quoich, all in the Highlands. Loch Thom in Inverclyde and Gryffe Resevoir in Renfrewshire were also affected, as were the Scottish Borders’ Megget and Talla Resevoirs.

In Wales, Anglesey’s Llyn Alaw and Llyn Cefni were attacked, as were Carmarthenshire’s Llyn Brianne and Usk Resevoir. All five lakes in Conwy were affected, as were five in Denbighshire. Six resevoirs in Gwynedd, four in Powys, as well as Swansea’s Cray resevoir and Swansea Bay barrage were also attacked.

The only resevoir attacked in Ireland was Northern Ireland’s Silent Valley Resevoir, which supplies most of the water for County Down, surrounding counties, and most of Belfast.

Interpretations

Traditional

The traditional view of superheroism is that when those gifted with powers see a need for improved crime prevention measures, they justify violent acts to bring about justice^[2]. Some vigilantes see ethics and moral laws as superior to governmental laws and may believe that the ends justify the means.

Pseudo-superheroism

Pseudo-superheroism was recognised as a phenomenon as early as 2001^[3], with ordinary civilians with no notable superhuman powers would wear costumes and behave as superheroes.

Cyber-superheroism

The term cyber-heroism was coined by Sir Menzies Campbell in 2006^[4], referring to non-superpowered individuals who use technology for powers, such as weapons or suits. The term quickly grew in popularity, replacing the slang term techno-heroes. Some commentators have attributed this to the nature of cyber-superheroes, often spending great amounts of time on the internet, and usually using the internet to buy their gear in the first place^[5].

-10001-

“So I was affected by this terrorist attack?” I said.

“That’s right,” said the man.

“And developed super-powers.”

“Yes, you did,” he said. “Specifically, telekinetic powers and mild empathy.”

“And you were affected too?”

He chuckled.

“I’m what we call a pseudo-superheroes. And traditional superheroes hate me for it.”

“I see,” I said. “Do I hate you?”

“Not as far as I know,” he laughed. “But you keep your cards close to your chest. Anyway, you became a superhero five years ago, and kept it up for around eighteen months. Then, two years ago, you put on a new suit, and became Therapy, the first costumed counsellor.”

“Would it be worth asking why a counsellor would need to be costumed?”

For a moment, I saw sadness in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up.

“It was the result of your research,” he said. “It contributed in no small part to your third book. You’re the expert, but from what I can recall, a lot of costumed supervillains are crying out for attention. Particularly the younger ones. They see superhumans as ‘cool’, and want to emulate them. Therapy therefore represented a cool superhero – after all, you could wow them with a party trick, like lifting a pencil. They might listen to Therapy where they would have ignored standard counselling. In this way, they can be rehabilitated, and the ones with powers can use them for good, and the ones without can find a new outlet for their desire to be a pseudo-superhero – like sports, for instance.”

He checked his watch.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow to continue our discussion.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Your father will visit shortly, as will many friends and relatives. Relax, and don’t be embarassed if you can’t remember who some of them are. They’ll be warned beforehand that duration is what matters, and not how important they are to you.”

I smiled. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but suddenly, it dawned on me that my life for the last fifteen years hadn’t been all about lectures, books and super-counselling.

“Wait,” I said, calling him back. “What’s your name?”

“Confidential,” he chuckled. “But people here know me as Ten Thousand And One.”

And with that, he left.