Ashtin's Mandatory Counseling

Ashtin awoke in the infirmary more than twelve hours later, still wearing his robe. It was a sterile room with three beds and two examination areas. Although five thousand mages worked in the building, the need for medical facilities was minimal because many of them could cast healing spells. The small infirmary was more than sufficient.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that a gynoid was sitting next to his bed. By her uniform, Ashtin recognized her as one of his history instructors. All gynoids looked alike, so it was possible that she was an imposter. However, she had very little reason to pull that kind of trick. Although their personalities differed, their goals aligned.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted him. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“Drink this, slowly.” The gynoid handed him a tall glass of water, “After that, we’ll have a short counseling session.”

“Can it wait? I should get some food in me.”

“It can’t. I’ve informed the kitchen that you’re awake, and they’re preparing a light breakfast for you now, but we need to talk first.”

“Alright.” Looking around, he noticed his surroundings appeared out of focus. A privacy spell had already been cast around them by another mage, and he realized that the counseling had started the moment he awoke. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eight—no, nine—days since my last counseling session.”

“Most other counselors would take that as proof that you did not learn your lesson yesterday, but I am not so quick to judge. Let me ask, why are you so hung up on confession?”

“Because it seems to me that you modeled these counseling sessions off of an ancient religious practice.”

“We took inspiration from many places, but I won’t deny that confession was an influence. Our reasons were as pessimistic as you might guess. Some people will always reach for the comfort and community that religion can provide. We aim to supply an… alternative.”

“And with all other religions outlawed, you’re effectively running, what, a state religion? A theocracy?”

“Neither. There is no spiritual aspect to counseling, no deities, and no faith-based beliefs. In fact, counseling isn’t even required for civilians. It’s not as sinister as you are imagining.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better.” He paused, unprompted, to think about why that might be. After more than a decade of counseling, it was second nature to him now. “I… Counseling has helped make me the person I am now, a better person than I would be otherwise. No, it’s more than that. I enjoy it, but now that I know it’s based on a religious practice, I wish I didn’t.”

“You are scared that you are someone with a natural disposition to religion?”

“Yeah.”

“It is not likely. You have always been intelligent, and you have never once believed anything on faith alone.”

“That’s not quite true. I don’t mean this in a seditious way, but you say that you work for the betterment of humankind, and it’s evident from your results, but I cannot know your true motivations. I have faith in the council.”

“Except for that. Your faith in us runs deep, but do you think that makes you a worse person?”

“It hasn’t yet, but I fear it may in the future.”

“If that happens, we will be here to help fix you. As long as you put in the work, we will never abandon you.”

A genuine smile spread across Ashtin’s lips. “Thanks.”

“On that note, we have temporarily revoked your access to the popular culture of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, CE. Your recent behavior has demonstrated that you are taking it too seriously, allowing it to affect your judgment. You will need to demonstrate that you properly understand the societal context in which these works were created before you can watch anime again.”

“Not like I’ll have much time to watch during my assignment. Afterward, would you help me study that time period? It’s so turbulent that it can be difficult to know what to focus on.”

“Of course. Do you have any other concerns?”

“No. I’m actually really excited. This is the first time the council has trusted me with anything important.”

“Then before we finish, open your mouth.” Although Ashtin didn’t understand why she wanted him to do that, he complied without hesitation, a show of his faith in her. “Corpus Christi,” she said, placing a communion wafer on his tongue. “I had them replicated just for you.”

Placing the bag of wafers on his chest, she stood up and walked out of the room. As she passed through the privacy spell, Ashtin watched her body distort and then disappear.

The wafer itself was bland, but to Ashtin, it tasted bitter. She had known that he was going to bring up confession again, even though he had been warned against making the comparison. This was her way of telling him that, in some respects, she knew him better than he knew himself. That was a bitter feeling, but also a comfortable one.

“Amen,” Ashtin said, swallowing the wafer.