Carlos Benitez D.I.D

[Carlos_Benitez]

Carlos awoke. He was still in his office, his desk covered in papers. Carlos stretched, and then looked out of his window. It was daybreak.
He sat down at the desk again, and began looking at the papers infront of him. He only recognised a third. How long had he been asleep?
He looked at his computer. The date had advanced by three days. Had he been asleep that long?
He looked at his desk. Some of the papers had...his signature on.
Carlos put two and two together, and immediately plunged himself into a meditative state.
"What did you do!?" he asked himself.
"You mean...what did WE do?" a voice replied.
"I'm tired of your games. You put me to sleep and took over for 3 days. I need to know what you did." Carlos felt himself getting angry. Was it possible to be enemies with your own subconcious?
"We did what you always tried to do, what you where unable to do, and what you where afraid to do..."
"What did you do!?" Carlos repeated.
"We made you swallow your pride, and insodoing managed to guarantee the creation of the Senate we have always dreamed of."
Carlos couldn't believe his ears. After it had seemed like all hope was lost, he had somehow managed to have the Brotherhood and OPG sign up to the creation of a Senate with equal representation and indipendant delegates.
The news was bittersweet, however. What the voice had said...disturbed him.
"What did you say to them?" Carlos asked.
His subconcious replied. "We apologised for your actions over the past months, your obsession with power, and your mistrust of fellow Corsairs".

Carlos was furious. Apologising for his righteous struggle for democracy, his commitment to achieving that goal, and his only reasonble mistrust of those who had betrayed him in the past...the thought sickened him.
It took a lifetime to build a reputation, and it seemed that Carlos had underminded what little integrity he had.
This wasn't natural. This wasn't right. Carlos knew he had to get rid of the voice; push it back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged, never to rear it's face again.

He lifted a screen in his desk, and tapped a code into the interface.
"Contacting Lloyd Johnson..."
After five minutes, a face appeared on the screen.
"What is it..!? Who the hell is this?"
Carlos replied. "This is Commandante, Don Carlos Benitez of the Corsairs".
The man before him was in his early forties, wearing a cryer uniform.
"****..." he shouted, preparing to slam down the lid of the communicator.
"Relax senor. We have no grudge with you. I need your help senor."
The man did not seem to relax much, but sat down and listened to what Carlos had to say.
"I had heared from senora Chavez that you tried to help Maniaco..." said Carlos.
"I did what I could for the poor man..." the doctor interjected, "though I am a Professor of Psychiatry rather than clinical medcine. I tried to help him..deal with the psycological aspects of his addiction..."
Carlos nodded. "I know, senor. That's why I need your help. I need a consultation."
Johnson frowned. "You people have doctors of your own. I got involved with the Corsairs once, I don't intend to make a habit of it."
Carlos replied. "I need to keep...any condition I might have entirely confidential, which is hard to achieve in a society in which dishonesty is a means of survival."
The doctor nodded, but then stared into his screen again.
"What might I gain from this?" he asked. Carlos tapped some buttons on his console, and wired 2 million credits to the doctor's account.
He looked into the doctors eyes. "Please senor. I need help".

Over the next two hours, Carlos explained to Senor Johnson all the details of his history that pertained to his mental health, from his incarceration on Newgate in his mid twenties, to the incident in Kappa 6 months ago, and the subsiquent coma.
He then explained about the voice during his meditations, and how it would argue back at him. He explained how he thought the voice had taken control of him, due to his loss of the memory of the past 3 days.
"Very odd indeed" the doctor added.
"I've been under allot of stress lately senor, and I think it's taking it's toll."
The doctor nodded. "I agree...but I believe the seed of the problem may have been planted before that, perhaps during the incident that lead to your coma. You're symptoms are indicative of some kind of post-traumatic stress."
Carlos listened. Understanding science such as this was not his strong point, and he felt very vulnerable opening himself up to an aquantance whom he had never met in person.
"How does the presence of the other voice make you feel?" he asked.
"Angry" Carlos replied. "it makes me furious to know that even in my own head I have voices second-guessing my decisions and pressuring me to make decisions against my own judgement. When it took control, that was the last straw."
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You diddn't answer my question. You told me how the actions of the 'other' made you feel. How does it's presence make you feel?"
Carlos was about to retort. "Think deeper" ordered the doctor.
Carlos did as he was told. He shut his eyes, and drifted to the place where he and his subconcious would meet. Words began to float into his mind, intense feelings inspiring speech.
"Safe" said Carlos. "Secure.... warm."
The doctor interrupted. "Cared for?"
Carlos nodded, and cracked a weak smile, his eyes still closed.

The doctor tapped his microphone, and the sound snapped Carlos back out of his trance. "Well, sir... I believe you are a sufferer of Dissociative Identity Disorder caused by post traumatic stress and high levels of stress within your life."
Carlos stayed silent.
"Where you my patient, I would almost certainly have you institutionalised for further study and treatment, but that's not an option"
The doctor continued.
"The voice represents your subconcious mind, your most basic desires. By the sound of things, you spend your life looking after your organisation with little regard for yourself, and clearly your subconcious is demanding to be heard, rather than continue being ignored."
Carlos interrupted.
"I can't carry on like this senor. It's disturbing."
The doctor shook his head. "I disagree. I think, whilst un-natural, the manifestation of your sub-concious could do you some good. You need to learn to look after yourself. Your description of how the voice makes you feel said it all; you know deep down that it has your best interests at heart, and you know that it won't let you come to harm. You enjoyed being able to let go and allow it to look after you."
Carlos was confused.
"What do you think I should do, senor?" he asked.
"As I see it, you have 3 options. You can retire, thus reducing the stress and allowing you to focus more on appeasing your subconcious, removing the need for it to come forth.
Alternatively, you can go about your daily life deliberately allowing time for yourself and satisfying 'the voice' without it needing to take over."
Carlos only heared two options. "The third?" he asked.
The doctor took a deep breath. "You can let go completely. I don't know what it will do to your personality, but you could enjoy the security the voice offers while letting go of your responsibilities. The voice's role is almost like that of a parent, doing what's best for you even in spite of your own opinions. That's why you find it comforting."
Carlos looked gravely at Senor Johnson.
"So...I can't fight it?" he asked.
"You've tried, and it exhausted you to a point where it could take over."
Carlos tried to search for another option. "What about treatment?"
The doctor shook his head.
"No medication would be able to deal with this, as essentially your brain is fighting itself. Short of barbaric lobotomy or whiping your mind clean using Electro-convulsive therapy, there is nothing we can do. You have to make peace with this voice."

Not the answer Carlos wanted to hear. He thanked the doctor for his time, and shut down the comm link.

---