History Repeats Itself (Uhl Lasha Unu)

[Doctor Zendu]

Location: Doctor Zendu's Private Practice, Belasco.

Doctor Robert Zendu, renowned galactic Xenopsychiatrist, was currently lounging on his own Hover sofa, perusing the notes from the session of his previous patient, a CEO of a droid manufacturing company called Salacia Consolidated on Ceto. The young man had been seeking treatment for nightmares related to a nanite attack and after an unsuccessful attempt at getting the patient to try a controversial new drug therapy made from the pineal glands of nightmare demons, the two of them settled as regular talk therapy for a course of action. The cloud-like softness of his sofa coupled with the mid-afternoon quiet of the Belasco skies almost lulled the doctor to sleep. But then his chrono bleeped, and he was roused by the notification that he had another patient incoming. Cursing softly, he plucked the patient file from an obsessively neat stack of papers and checked out his next patient's file.

Name: Pierti Cashipalli
Age: 26,000
Occupation: Historian
Species: Orrananan

Doctor Zendu was unfamiliar with the Orrananan race, but that intrigued him even more. The amount one could learn about various alien cultures of the galaxy was almost infinite and the thirst for knowledge was the stuff that Robert thrived on. He eagerly opened the door to his waiting room, with the patient file tucked protectively under his arm, and called his next patient's name.

"Pierti Cashipalli?"

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

Uhl sat in what he viewed as a highly uncomfortable chair. Really, in his mind the whole office could use a remodel -- it was too sleek, too modern. Bah! he thought. Youngsters these days, losing touch with the past. Disgraceful!

Unfortunately for the old man, though, losing touch with the past was the reason why he was here.

Uhl was old. Having lived 26,000 years, longer than many, many species, he recognised that. In fact, he would be willing to dispute that, biologically, he was the oldest living sentient in the galaxy.

But growing old had never been a problem for him, not til now. Uhl's memory, the greatest talent he possessed, was starting to lose its clarity. At first, it was little things: putting the retaking of Korriban by the ancient Sith a year ahead, adding a ship here and there. But when the Orrananan began to mix Darth Bane with Darth Vader? Uhl decided the best course would be to finally take the advice of one of his assistants and utilize a psychiatrist -- though for a different reason than what they had.

Or maybe not?

Eyes going from grey to blue to red, startled by that thought, Uhl nearly missed his name being called.

"Ah, what?" His eyes now reverting to the usual grey, Uhl stood up and brushed his clothes off. They were in a very old style, the type of clothing that the wealthier members of his people wore.

"Oh, Pierti, yes, that's me." The fact that he had forgotten about using his birth name for the session also troubled the old man, though he made sure it didn't show. Uhl walked up to the nerdy-looking man, who reminded him of a nervous type of swamp bird. "You're the doctor, right?"

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Doctor Zendu's head nodded vigorously in affirmation. "There is no other," he said, and then added. "It's nice to meet you, Pierti." His eyes curiously scanning his patient's odd fashion sense, the doctor stepped into his office and ushered his patient over to the Hover couch in the corner.

"Most patients prefer the Hover couch, but please feel free to sit anywhere you like." Doctor Zendu continued to awkwardly gesture to the couch, obviously signalling that was where he wanted his patient to sit. The doctor's office was excessively neat, almost obsessively so. It was clear that the young physician liked to be in control of his surroundings.

Doctor Zendu crossed to his desk to fetch his little black book and then plucked a pen from the many in the front pocket of his tweed jacket. He adjusted his glasses, and took a seat opposite the couch.

"While you're settling in, why don't you tell me why you've come to see me today?"

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

The historian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Everything, from the doctor's insistence on the hover sofa to the absolute neatness of the office made it evident that the young man was obsessed with maintaining order in a chaotic galaxy. Unfortunately, Uhl had learned the hard way that more often than not, order was but a dream, a soft breath of wind -- here one moment and gone the next.

Nonetheless, not wishing a fight, he sat down on the couch, eyebrows quirked upward at the surprising cushiness of the seat. Crossing his legs and steeping his fingers, Uhl studied Dr. Zendu.

"No doubt your file tells you I am a historian, no? Well, as a historian it is important to keep facts straight, much in the same way a psychiatrist must keep his records in the correct order.

"As of late, however, I have noticed that I have been confusing data." His steel grey eyes glinting in the light, the Orrananan gave the young man a stern look. "I am here, Doctor, because my memories need to be reorganized, refiled, and decluttered. Otherwise, I fear the many important memories of mine may lose their...value."

Uhl found himself hoping that the doctor would buy it. The years had left him with a poker face, but every now and then you had a lucky few who could guess any deception.

But the reason why Uhl was hoping that the only result of this session was a fixed memory was because, well... The old man had born witness to many things, things which, when given attention, sometimes threatened to tear apart the very fabric of Uhl Lasha Unu with unwanted emotions...

 

[Doctor Zendu]

A keen reader of both body language and the tiniest of facial expressions of not only humans, but many various and sundry alien species, Doctor Zendu could immediately tell that there was something his patient was not being forthcoming with. Zendu vigorously scribbled some notes in his little black book and then placed his notebook on his lap, neatly folding his hands on top of it, his brown eyes leveled at his patient. His expression was friendly and curious, as he was very interested to talk to a man who'd been around as long as Pietri.

"Yes, it does say in my notes that you're a historian. It also says that you are very, very old. I can't even conceive of the sheer number of memories you have. No wonder they need reorganizing." The doctor paused to adjust his glasses. "My specialty is talk therapy, but I dabble in other methods. Tell me, Pietri. Would you be open to trying some controversial memory recollection therapies? For example, something like cranial surgery?"

The doctor smiled, eager to prove that he meet the man's bluff and raise it tenfold.

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

"And leave it up to fate for my brain to become goop? They're called 'controversial' for a reason, young man," Uhl sniffed. The way the Doctor had scribbled vigorously in his little book and his following question notified that he'd called the Orrananan's bluff. That did not, however, mean that the old man as just going today down. He hadn't survived for twenty-six millennia by giving in to every person who called his bluff!

"As for cranial surgery, I will pass. Having to watch the New Republic remove the Yuuzhan Vong slave collars tends to ruin one's taste for surgery." As an added rebuke, Uhl slapped his knee. "And I am not old, persay. I am just...seasoned, young man." He leaned forward slightly. "Now, I came here for some doctorly advice. And Per mia Gylif, I expect to leave here with some!"

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Doctor Zendu grinned at his patient with a smug tilt of the head. "Pietri, I can tell that you're holding something back from me. This thing with your memories, well, it's not exactly the type of thing one comes to see a therapist about is it?" The young psychiatrist picked up his notebook and jotted down a few more things, then raised his eyes at Uhl. "Patients come to see me for issues with things more emotional in nature. The ones who don't have those, just want to get their hands on the good pharmaceuticals."

The doctor leaned in with his elbows on his knees, still clutching his notebook, and gave his patient his best concerned expresssion. "So with that in mind, tell me, what is it exactly that you need doctorly advice on?"

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

The old man crossed his arms, harrumphing. This whippersnapper was good. "Hrmph. Jun homoj chia hav Al pensi ili Bey elelant," he muttered.

In a louder voice, Uhl replied, "Well, you can be certain I do not want any of your drugs, Doctor. And how should I know where to go for memory help, hm? I'm a historian. I leave the mediciney stuff to the medical experts."

The Orrananan fell silent, thinking. Should he just fold to the doctor's whim and stop wasting his money? Or draw it out like a 300 year old instead of someone of his age and dignity? Watching Dr. Zendu, he decided to confer with his inner voice -- something that was similar to his conscience.

What if the memory problem isn't something to do with your recall, Pierti? What if it's something else?

Oh? Like what?

The promises you made to many of your assistants, your friends, to find a professional to help overcome your personal issues with the galaxy.

I do not have issues, thank you! And if I do there is a reason they are personal!

Ask the doctor, then. He'll figure out what's wrong.

If he does not inject me with deadly drugs that turn me into a babbling idiot.

Throughout the whole exchange, Uhl's sabacc face had not wavered. His eyes, however, had become a much darker shade of grey, almost black. As soon as the exchange was done, though, they resumed their normal colour. Shifting in his seat, the man looked at the young human. "I do not know, Doctor," he said in a softer voice. "I guess you will have to find that out alongside me."

 

[Doctor Zendu]

The doctor gave a long audible sigh. So the historian was going to be one of those patients. The ones Doctor Zendu had to play twenty questions with to get any kind of straight answer.

"As a matter of fact, I am that smart." He said, translating the fellow's Old Correllian mutterings. "But that doesn't mean I'm a mind reader. You have to tell me what's bothering you, besides your Alzheimer's disease that is?" The doctor realized he was being snarky and it was probably unprofessional, but he was running out of empathy for a patient that seemed to want to play games with him.

Deciding this patient called for some special medication for the doctor himself, the psychiatrist stood up, placing his notebook on his chair and crossed to a cabinet in his kitchen. He poured himself a generous amount of whiskey from a crystal decantur and turned back to Uhl. "Would you like some?"

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

Uhl shot up when he realized the Doctor knew Old Corellian. It was usually the older generation the had even a hint of it, much less enough knowledge to translate a full sentence. Of course, the rest of the statements quickly erased the surprise. "I doubt I have Alzheimer's, Doctor. I can remember my name, thank you."

At the young man's offer of some liquor, though, Uhl had to decline. "No, thank you. Alcohol and I are not always the best of friends." He shifted in his seat, studying Doctor Zendu.

"You think I am playing games with you; on the contrary, Doctor. When I say I do not know what is wrong, I mean it. In fact, to start out, I will give you a helpful tidbit: many of my acquaintances over the years have suggested I see a specialist, and were it not for my memory starting to go wibbly-wobbly, I would have never come here." The Orrananan leaned back in his seat, looking at the Doctor as if to say, "Your move."

 

[Doctor Zendu]

"Suit yourself," said Zendu, and with a crystal tumbler of whiskey in hand, he leaned on the edge of his desk, his brown eyes appraising his patient behind horn-rimmed glasses. "Let me ask you this, Pietri. Have you tried archiving your memories in a more tangible way? Holo recordings, texts, even dictation? I'm sure that with the current technological advances at our disposal these days, you could surely find a way to record what you've seen, and then keep those details handy for times when things get hazy?"

The doctor sipped his whiskey and scratched his chin. "What was it that made those acquaintances suggest counselling? Was there something disturbing they saw in your behavior? Was there one incident in particular or a conglomeration of events that led your friends to be concerned about your emotional state?"

Once the whiskey settled nicely into his system, the young psychiatrist's shoulders relaxed, and Doctor Zendu smiled warmly at his patient in an attempt to atone for the fact that the both of them started off on the wrong foot.

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

"Naturally. I have published many books on my recordings, and I keep almost everything on this." Uhl reached into his coat and pulled out his datapad. The thing was a good century or five old, but the Orrananan disliked switching datapad just to keep up with the times. Why fix what is not broke? "But I find my memories to be the best storage device of all; otherwise, who's to say these are naught but stories? Works of fiction?"

He fell silent, pondering the doctor's next question. What, indeed? It was something Uhl had pondered many nights, and though he had an answer, the old man was still reluctant to share it. Who knew what the conversation might lead to? Speaking in a soft tone, the Orrananan replied carefully, "Perhaps they believed I....May have had survivor's guilt?" Yes, that was a good answer. Survivor's guilt was something that could be applied with living longer than friends, and not just to....the event. Which Uhl doubted the young Doctor knew, but then again, he also didn't count on the man knowing Old Corellian.

"Where did you learn Corellian, anyway?"

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Again his patient managed to deflect the topic of his mental state. The doctor tightened his grip on his notebook, almost crushing it, and with a long sigh, took another sip of whiskey. Thankfully his patient gave him a tiny slice of information to run with. That seemed to be a small miracle.

First the psychiatrist answered Pietri's inquiry about the Corellian tongue with an enthusiastic smile. The topic clearly excited the doctor. "I studied many subjects at University and had a particular knack for linguistics. I was fortunate enough to have an upbringing that allowed for many private language tutors. In my profession, it's been beyond useful to know the galaxy's different languages, even the dead ones. I find that some patients are quite a bit more candid, if you're speaking their native tongue. Not only that, but there are some ideas my more alien patients can't even begin to explain in Basic, some concepts that don't even exist outside a given alien's own language."

Doctor Zendu put down his glass and picked up his notebook and pen, poised for Uhl's next answer. "You say you have survivor's guilt. What do you feel like you're surviving? The passage of time? Or is there something more specific you're referring to?"

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

Uhl smiled toothlessly as the doctor answered his question about the language. "It is always good to see the jun homoj so enthusiastic about the ancient times," he said. "Even if it's merely linguistics. But then, many times you can tell an entire species' history in just the way they speak."

When Zendu returned to the topic of survivors' guilt, the old Orrananan appraised him quietly, his grey eyes dark with thought.

Quit playing games, Pierti. You need help, help that this man can give you.

Oh, what do you know? You are a voice inside my head, nothing more.

But I'm also always right. Start acting your age and buck up, Pierti.

Uhl suddenly rubbed his forehead wearily. Perhaps his conscience was right. He did need to buck up, to admit that he might have issues.

But that didn't mean he had to weep like a heartbroken milk maid, either. Are there even milk maids around anymore?

Looking back at the Doctor, the old man nodded his head slightly. "The passage of time is one thing, yes. It took me a long, long time to become used to those I cared about withering away and dying while I remained in the prime of my youth." He chuckled wryly, gesturing to his face. "Although I believe we both know I am well past that, now."

He fell silent again, mulling over his next sentence carefully. He said slowly, softly, emotionlessly, "But...there is another thing. Tell me, Doctor Zendu, have you ever had to witness the complete and utter destruction of your people, knowing that there was nothing you could do? Knowing that the only reason they were wiped out was because of some upstart who wanted a show of power?" Uhl snorted derisively. "Well, of course you would not, you humans are like rabbits. Start with ten, end with ten hundred. No offense, Doctor." The Orrananan settled back in the couch, which felt decidedly less comfortable than before, as he awaited the shrink's response.

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Now they were getting somewhere. Doctor Zendu took a few more generous notes and then adjusted his glasses. "Obviously I've never had to witness something like that myself. I can imagine that would absolutely cause a huge amount of survivor's guilt. You must blame yourself for not being able to do more for your people. Survivor's guilt falls right underneath the umbrella diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder."

Zendu pointed his pen at Uhl. "That is what I believe you're suffering from, Pietri. So let's talk treatment. I could prescribe something or we could do some 'grounding' techniques. Basically things that help keep you in the present when you start feeling distressed about the past."

He let out a long sigh and clapped his hands together. "I have to be honest with you. For someone who's lived 26,000 years, that's alot of past to be distressed about. I'm not sure that conventional methods are going to help you, and we may have to explore more experimental treatments."

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

Uhl scoffed at the diagnosis. "PTSD? Young man, do you have any idea how many traumatic events I have survived? I am certain the symptoms would have revealed themselves long before now."

Symptoms such as heightened irritability, avoidance of discussing the event or even thinking about it, survivor's guilt, like the good doctor said.... And dare I mention the little nickname you've given yourself? Maybe you shouldn't scoff so much, Pierti.

Oh, shut up, you. Who's side are you on, anyway?

"And," he continued, "I do not care how old I am, I refuse to partake in any treatment described as 'experimental', 'controversial', or anything else that might kill me! I have not lived this long just to be done in by a mistaken recommendation." The old man ended his protest with a grumpy harrumph, crossing his arms. His eyes, which were still on the doctor, were slowly shifting to orange as he became worked up.

 

[Doctor Zendu]

A tiny bit alarmed at the shifting color of Uhl's eyes, the doctor watched him carefully as he went on his tirade. Reluctantly, Doctor Zendu began to wonder if he was over his head treating the historian. At merely thirty-one years old in human years, the young psychiatrist didn't have the same frame of reference to be able to correctly empathize with someone who had lived for 26,000 years. But he could still talk to the man at least. And Uhl seemed he was itching to talk, even if he was being evasive about most of his issues.

At his dismissal of more cutting-edge treatments the doctor sneered almost imperceptibly. But it was his prerogative if he didn't want to make psychiatric history, like Doctor Zendu hoped that he himself would someday, so ultimately he simply jotted down a few more notes and dropped the subject.

"Perhaps my diagnosis was hasty then," Admitted the doctor. "Are you able to talk about this incident you described earlier? The destruction of your people? Tell me what happened there, and don't hold anything back. Most specifically, tell me how it all made you feel."

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

"Hasty? That is putting it lightly," Uhl huffed. What was he thinking, coming to this scrawny human for help? He was nothing but a mere child compared to the Orrananan!

The old man rubbed his chin when Dr. Zendu presented his next question. "Oh, yes, I can tell you what happened. I cannot, however, tell you how I feel." And it was true.

It might seem like Uhl was once again avoiding the subject, but in actuality he was merely describing a conundrum to the doctor. In all of the years that the Orrananan had been recording, presenting, remembering history, the death of his people was one thing which he had never been able to fully talk about.

When someone asked him how his people died, Uhl would tell them, but it would be as if he was talking about a holodrama. Little to no emotion, as if the event didn't bother him. As if they had been someone else's species, someone else's home, someone else's life.

It was because everything Uhl had felt that day had been bottled up deep, deep down. So far down, it wouldnt threaten his composure and leave him emotionally vulnerable. His grief, everything, was just so strong... And to tell the truth, it scared Uhl to death.

 

[Doctor Zendu]

"Please go on," said Doctor Zendu quickly glancing down at his chrono. "Or are you going to keep me in suspense until our next visit?" He tried to temper his sarcasm but after almost an hour of his patient's evasiveness, Zendu was nearing the end of his rope.

"Speaking of the time. Today's session is almost up I'm afraid. I would like to hear this story, however, and I'm willing to extend our hour by a few minutes so that you don't have to rush through it."

Then he snapped his notebook closed. "Or we could wait until our next visit. The choice is yours." Zendu poured himself another generous glass of whiskey and, twirling his pen in his fingers, raised his eyebrow at Uhl.

[member="Uhl Lasha Unu"]

 

[Terys Rocabel]

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

Uhl rubbed his face, pondering the doctor's offer. There was no way he could say everything in five minutes. Which meant he had two choices: schedule another visit, or leave and never come back. If he left, he would be able to keep his emotions bottled up and hidden, never to come out.

But if he were to come back....

What do you think?

It's your choice, Pierti. Either way, your life will be affected.

Fat lot of help you are!

Dr. Zendu wasn't a cheap man to visit. Another session would cost quite a lot of money, even in the standards of normal billionaires.

Uhl wasn't a normal billionaire, though.

Standing up, the Orrananan offered his hand to the Doctor. "I came in for my memory, and left with my heart. Intriguing, isn't it, Doctor Zendu? I shall leave a contact number with your receptionist, so you can let me know of your next opening."

Look at you, Pierti. You've taken your first step.

But is that good, or bad?