Still touring London with my friend. We went to Bone Daddies last night, a ramen place that does very good ramen. It's at the back of a business estate, and if you don't know exactly where it is, you'll never find it -- we were concerned we were in the wrong place and lost for a couple of minutes and we knew where we were going!
Constant Cass's face was worryingly set and she was staring at the piles of files on Fenella's desk. "This is incredible," she said. "All of these case files, and the man is considered to be a genius, and yet... the constant factor throughout all of Dr. Fraud's work is that he did the wrong thing. Over and over again. And yet it seemed to work!" Fenella squirmed, feeling uncomfortable. "We only know that he's constantly done the wrong thing in the files we've looked at so far," she said. "That's four. That's a very small sample size. Even sociologists would laugh at us if we tried to make a case from just four examples." "Are you sure?" Cass wasn't really listening, Fenella was sure of that. From the gleam in her eye, Fenella was pretty sure that Cass was seeing an opportunity to get their names into the journals and fame on the horizon. "I'm sure I read a paper recently where their sample size was one. And it was one of the authors." "That was the wing-suit paper," said Fenella, repressing a shudder. The pictures in that article had been, in her opinion, entirely unnecessary. "And the sample was the author who died. It's not like you could ethically reproduce someone flying into an electric fence during rain wearing a conductive wing-suit." "Still," said Cass, not wanting to concede. "I think four isn't that bad, considering. But... I suppose we do have a stack more to work with, and even if Dr. Fraud gets better in there, we can probably argue that they're outliers." "It might be that he does the wrong thing and it doesn't work, as well," said Fenella. She was wondering if attacking one of the greats of their profession was a good idea. Especially in print.
"Well, that would be nice to see!" said Cass. She got up, taking her coffee cup with her, and went over to the shiny black coffee machine in the corner of the office. It was slightly hidden by the swiss-cheese plant in an attempt to deter visitors from asking for a drink, as they used the expensive coffee beans for it. It hissed and sputtered, making espresso and Cass tapped her foot, thinking. "What's the next file got in it then?" Fenella pulled the manila folder from the stack and opened it. "This is about a woman called Beryl who had a fear of constancy," she said, scanning the opening paragraphs and summarising. "Initially Dr. Fraud notes that she seems confused about constancy. He was expecting... hah, he was expecting it to mean faithful, by the looks of things, as his questions at the start are all about her husband." "It's an approach, of course," said Cass taking her cup back to her desk. She sounded eager. "And honestly, it's better than the last one. But I guess he was wrong?" "Well, it looks," and Fenella turned several pages filled with Dr. Fraud's elegant handwriting, "like they spent two session arguing about this." "Arguing?" "She wasn't married and wasn't interested in men. At one point she seems to have thought that Dr. Fraud was hitting on her." "Two sessions of this? When she's not married?" Fenella nodded, her gaze moving along the black ink and her eyes slowly widening yet again. "Yes, he was certain that she couldn't mean anything else, so he accused her of lying about what she was there for, and then... oh my. He gave her a Rorschach test." "What? What on earth for? When he's just not listening to her!" "Well, he used the results to prove that she was repressing memories of her husband, to whom he thinks she wanted to be unfaithful but had feelings of guilt about." "Prove?!" "That's what he's written. And it's not like it's a diagnostic test, it's just an association game, really. I mean, I've used it once or twice, but I wouldn't say it's much use. People turn up wanting to do one and then expect you to say, "ah, you want to sleep with your sister in a porn-movie, here's Hugh Hefner's number, go and ask him for a job'." Cass blinked. "They do?" "Well, I had exactly that, once," said Fenella. "But still. Oh wow, he convinced Beryl he was right." "He what?" "Yeah, she left session 8 promising to look around her house for her 'husband' and apologise to him." Cass knocked the espresso back in one. "He can't possibly have been right," she said. "He just gave her a different neurosis. Something to mask the original problem." "You could be right," said Fenella.
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Still touring London with my friend. We went to Bone Daddies last night, a ramen place that does very good ramen. It's at the back of a business estate, and if you don't know exactly where it is, you'll never find it -- we were concerned we were in the wrong place and lost for a couple of minutes and we knew where we were going!
Constant
Cass's face was worryingly set and she was staring at the piles of files on Fenella's desk. "This is incredible," she said. "All of these case files, and the man is considered to be a genius, and yet... the constant factor throughout all of Dr. Fraud's work is that he did the wrong thing. Over and over again. And yet it seemed to work!"
Fenella squirmed, feeling uncomfortable. "We only know that he's constantly done the wrong thing in the files we've looked at so far," she said. "That's four. That's a very small sample size. Even sociologists would laugh at us if we tried to make a case from just four examples."
"Are you sure?" Cass wasn't really listening, Fenella was sure of that. From the gleam in her eye, Fenella was pretty sure that Cass was seeing an opportunity to get their names into the journals and fame on the horizon. "I'm sure I read a paper recently where their sample size was one. And it was one of the authors."
"That was the wing-suit paper," said Fenella, repressing a shudder. The pictures in that article had been, in her opinion, entirely unnecessary. "And the sample was the author who died. It's not like you could ethically reproduce someone flying into an electric fence during rain wearing a conductive wing-suit."
"Still," said Cass, not wanting to concede. "I think four isn't that bad, considering. But... I suppose we do have a stack more to work with, and even if Dr. Fraud gets better in there, we can probably argue that they're outliers."
"It might be that he does the wrong thing and it doesn't work, as well," said Fenella. She was wondering if attacking one of the greats of their profession was a good idea. Especially in print.
"Well, that would be nice to see!" said Cass. She got up, taking her coffee cup with her, and went over to the shiny black coffee machine in the corner of the office. It was slightly hidden by the swiss-cheese plant in an attempt to deter visitors from asking for a drink, as they used the expensive coffee beans for it. It hissed and sputtered, making espresso and Cass tapped her foot, thinking. "What's the next file got in it then?"
Fenella pulled the manila folder from the stack and opened it. "This is about a woman called Beryl who had a fear of constancy," she said, scanning the opening paragraphs and summarising. "Initially Dr. Fraud notes that she seems confused about constancy. He was expecting... hah, he was expecting it to mean faithful, by the looks of things, as his questions at the start are all about her husband."
"It's an approach, of course," said Cass taking her cup back to her desk. She sounded eager. "And honestly, it's better than the last one. But I guess he was wrong?"
"Well, it looks," and Fenella turned several pages filled with Dr. Fraud's elegant handwriting, "like they spent two session arguing about this."
"Arguing?"
"She wasn't married and wasn't interested in men. At one point she seems to have thought that Dr. Fraud was hitting on her."
"Two sessions of this? When she's not married?"
Fenella nodded, her gaze moving along the black ink and her eyes slowly widening yet again.
"Yes, he was certain that she couldn't mean anything else, so he accused her of lying about what she was there for, and then... oh my. He gave her a Rorschach test."
"What? What on earth for? When he's just not listening to her!"
"Well, he used the results to prove that she was repressing memories of her husband, to whom he thinks she wanted to be unfaithful but had feelings of guilt about."
"Prove?!"
"That's what he's written. And it's not like it's a diagnostic test, it's just an association game, really. I mean, I've used it once or twice, but I wouldn't say it's much use. People turn up wanting to do one and then expect you to say, "ah, you want to sleep with your sister in a porn-movie, here's Hugh Hefner's number, go and ask him for a job'."
Cass blinked. "They do?"
"Well, I had exactly that, once," said Fenella. "But still. Oh wow, he convinced Beryl he was right."
"He what?"
"Yeah, she left session 8 promising to look around her house for her 'husband' and apologise to him."
Cass knocked the espresso back in one. "He can't possibly have been right," she said. "He just gave her a different neurosis. Something to mask the original problem."
"You could be right," said Fenella.
Greg - going to admit that the name of that particular establishment did not lead to thoughts of ramen and then just move along.
Hah, happy to see this one continuing. Quite curious to see where it leads!
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