Kennedy/Friedmann Rising-to-Climax

		Scene: A small, nondescript office. The floor is carpeted, there's a desk and two chairs. Next to the desk, is a therapist's couch. The room is lit, thoug not overly so. There's various paperwork on the desk, but notably, a copy of the Torah sits on top of it all. There are three doors to the room, one in front of the desk, one behind, and one to SL of the entrance.

			Enter AARON from SL door. He is a human, though clearly synthetic. His skin is mostly white, though it looks like a reproduction of skin, moreso than skin itself. He is wearing a Fleet service uniform, complete with jacket, but without a cover; instead, he wears a kippa. From his synthetic face sprouts synthetic -- but convincing -- hair, cut to regulation. He also wears a beard, uncut at the corners, per Jewish law.

			AARON sits at the desk, picking one of the folders from the stack, and begins to read.

AARON	(In a clearly fine human voice, retaining traces of a "Jewish" accent) An appointment? That's rare. Let's see... (beat) Connor Kennedy. What's he here for? (beat) Huh. Not normally a sleep expert, but I'll see what I can do.

			(Two red lights flash at the main entrance airlock. AARON goes to open the door, and we see CONNOR at the door.)

			CONNOR is also a human, and a fully-natural one. He looks unremarkable; he wears civilian clothes -- dark grey jeans and a red flannel -- yet carries himself professionally. The most notable physical element of him is his grey hair; despite being young, his hair is completely grey, almost silver.

CONNOR	Good morning, sir.

AARON	Shalom, welcome. How many I help?

CONNOR	 I had an appointment with Sub-Lieutenant Friedmann set to start about now, sir?

AARON	Yes, please, come in and sit down! (He gestures for CONNOR to follow) Apologies for the clutter; I'm not used to having company. (chuckles heartily, again, like a real human)

			(He motions for them to sit. They do so, CONNOR sitting upright, and AARON reclining slightly)

AARON	I've had a chance to read over most of -- okay, some of -- your file here. You were recommended to see me by Doctor Brigandi, correct?

CONNOR	Yes, sir. I had asked what counselors or mental health professionals on the ship she recommended. Your name was one.

AARON	(nods, smiling slightly) That's an honor then. (He suddenly seems confused) Though, ah, did she mention why me? I'm, ah, not exactly an expert on sleep.

CONNOR	(shaking his head, looking slightly confused himself) No, sir, she didn't.

AARON	Alright, well. No point wasting this time, then. What has been, ah, wrong, then, with your sleep?

CONNOR	It's not so much the sleep, sir, as the fact that I still feel... drained at the end of it.

AARON	Oh? How so?

CONNOR	Well, sir, after stressful shifts, I rarely come out of cryo feeling... refreshed, or new. I don't have time to process things fully, like regular sleep. When I do it's-

			(He stops talking abruptly, biting his lip. He shakes his head; he seems to know he's already said too much.)

AARON	(His eyes, while inhuman, still convey some sympathy. He nods gently as he talks) I see. What were you going to say? When you do process things fully... (he holds his hands out to CONNOR, signalling for him to talk.)

CONNOR	Nothing, sir. Just... started talking without any point.

			(The two sit in silence for several moments, AARON studying CONNOR intently. CONNOR idly looking at the stack of paperwork.)

AARON	Connor?

			(CONNOR snaps back to reality, blinking several times.)

CONNOR	Yes, sir?

AARON	Would this conversation be easier if I weren't /Sub-Lieutenant/ Friedmann?

CONNOR	(Seems confused at this) I'm not sure I follow, sir?

AARON	(Smiling softly) I think you do, though. (He leans forward, leaning in to CONNOR) Humor me, if you would, then. For the rest of this conversation, I'm not Sub-Lieutenant Friedmann. I'm Rabbi Aaron. No sirs, no worrying about being reported.

			(AARON pauses to let this sink in. CONNOR seems accept this, offering a series of small nods)

AARON	Alright, good. What's wrong, Connor?

CONNOR	Well, si- (he catches himself) (beat) I've been having nightmares.

AARON	In cryo? What are they, ah... are they like normal nightmares?

CONNOR	Yes and... no. They're vivid. Like I was really living it. (He bends over, arms on his thighs, fingertips together. His head is down, though he glances at AARON occasionally.) And tragic. They almost always end in... (he trails off, seemingly unable to finish the sentence)

AARON	(nods sympathetically) What, ah, happens, in the nightmares? Is it the same thing every time?

CONNOR	(shakes his head) No, it's... always different, but always (he sighs) catastrophic. We have to arm the self-destruct, or we've been boarded and one of us wounded. Or... (he pauses, as if catching himself from saying more) things like that.

AARON	We? So you're not, ah, alone, in the dreams- ah, nightmares, pardon. Who is "we?"

CONNOR	(pauses to think) Members of the crew. Command, mostly. People I see every day. (He seems uncomfortable with this answer, fidgeting afterwards)

AARON	(Seems to pick up on this. He offers a small smile and the hint of a chuckle) That's it? Connor. Just colleagues?

CONNOR	(Again seems confused) What do you mean?

AARON	I mean you've been here, in a high-stress job for, ah, almost a year now. Why the sudden concern?

			(CONNOR seems to sit for an eternity, trying to form the words in his head. AARON watches him, before closing his eyes)

AARON	You know, I used to get them too. (CONNOR looks up abruptly, jolted out of thought) Not in cryo, no, but nightmares, just like yours. My wife, Deborah; my son, Andrew; the two people I loved more than anything else. They were always with me, but I was always powerless to keep them from getting hurt, from... dying.

			(CONNOR shifts his head to study AARON with curious eyes. He listens intently.)

AARON	I realized, I spent every second I was away from them worrying about them. And, when you think something all day, it creeps into your mind. Lives there, rent free.

CONNOR	But you said used to. What... changed?

AARON	I realized the... power, as it were, of thoughts. Or, more aptly, the... illusion of power they have. Negative thoughts will always exist in our minds, and we must engage with them, on some degree. To not do so is... foolish. Naive. But to give them the full weight of a real thought is accepting defeat. Refusing to acknowledge that we have any agency.

AARON	(says almost sardonically) And, well, the Vale crash put things in perspective. Made- (he cuts off abruptly, noticing CONNOR, who has jolted to attention yet again, studying AARON with wide eyes)

CONNOR	You... The... L... (he searches for any words to start a sentence with, but fails)

AARON	(With genuine concerned confusion) Is everything alright, Connor?

CONNOR	(Finally able to form a somewhat coherent though) You were there. (beat) With her. (beat) You knew-

AARON	(Seems to finally connect the dots. He says this plainly) Layla.

			(CONNOR simply nods. He looks flustered, out of his depth)