"Danger double-D Danger," I say. "The Ds are for Danger." He nods and starts writing in a folder. When I lean forward I recognize a photo (my photo?) poking out of the top, but he pushes it in and smiles.
"What a start," he says. "Danger. A... name, I suppose, and that's what counts. I'm very happy with you."
"So what is my actual name?" I say to him. He shakes his head.
"You don't need to worry about it," he says. "You were once a troubled individual, but now you are tabula rasa, a new day. All is washed away like a baptism. Who needs to know about old times?"
"Troubled," I say. "Is that a new word for crazy?"
He squirms. "We do not use that term in Pleasant Rest," he says. "It implies that you are unchangeable human trash, unable to rise above your unhappy existence of pain and confusion. No, you are not crazy. You are a human being and we respect that."
Troubled. Don't you hate that? I do. It's just... It smells wrong.
He takes out a hand-mirror. I start looking for exits. "Now, I understand that this may be going very fast for you, but I think we're making strides. We have a name for you, right Danger?" he says. "That proves you're firing on all cylinders. We cannot waste that. I'm sure this will hurt but you will forgive that when you see the results. Are you ready?"
What's the point in resisting? I nod. He points the mirror at my face.
... I'm taking it slow. I'm shaved bald... I can't tell if I'm a man or woman. My new name doesn't help me in that regard. I'm wearing... Grey...
I need you to look through my eyes, this is too much. What do I look like?