"I don't know enough to reproduce it," he whispers.

"Even the broad outlines of the patient experience would be helpful. . . . I can give you writing materials and leave the room if that would make you more comfortable."

"Writing it would be easier."

"Okay. I really appreciate your help. Just open the door when you're done; I'll be outside." She sets out a pencil and paper in case he prefers those to his handcomp and leaves again, shutting the door behind her.

He does prefer paper. He scratches out:

Water, cold. Electric shock. Holding positions. Recitations. Emptying my mind to fill it with the will of the People. Didn't sleep didn't eat. Watched me for slips.

He takes a few minutes to feel less like the world is ending and then opens the door.

"Thank you." She reads the paper--

"This is--we wouldn't do this. Not over something like that, not anywhere good, it couldn't possibly be worth it even if it worked."

"I'm sorry* you--had to go through that. You didn't--get a choice, did you."

*Literally "empathysad".

"I presented myself for treatment."

"And if you hadn't? If you had just said, 'I like men and I'm going to keep liking men and if I find one I like who likes me we'll spend our lives together'? What would have happened then?"

"...I would not have done that."

"And if someone else did?"

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor."

"But you're a member of that society. What if one of your friends had done that? Would you have been okay with whatever their preferences were, or would you have said they were making a mistake or being defective?"

"...I would have said they were not well."

"And probably a lot of other people would have said the same, right? So it sounds like you didn't really get the chance to evaluate whether the benefits of this, this, procedure, were worth the costs for you, because other people were having opinions on what they wanted you to want."

Is this person really a doctor.

Met sighs. "But it's not as though I can go over there and complain to their faces. Did you have any lingering effects from--any of it? Either physical or mental?"

"I can't sing anymore."

"That's probably fixable, at least. Can you describe what happens when you try and any details you know about the cause?"

"No sound comes out. I don't know why."

"Hmm. Mind if I take a look at your throat? And does it occasionally happen when you speak, like earlier today, or is it generally only when you try to sing?"

"Occasionally when I speak." He opens his mouth so she can look.