Neither Jack nor Dr. Miles Mandrake is wearing masks. The doctor knows someone who knows someone, so no session begins without the doctor and patient
getting a rapid Covid test administered by his secretary, Mrs. Hudson. The doctor also shows off a newly installed Hepa air purifying system.
Jack thinks there is something strange about how the doctor appears to fondle the tiny cylindrical object, but then, anyone who seems to enjoy having
his nose swabbed, God knows how many times a day, has to be a little bit off-center. Sure, Jack understands the transmission rate is under two percent,
and masks are no longer required except on public transportation, hospitals, and at the moment schools, Still, Morgan warns that among the doctor’s peculiarities
is, he is a germaphobe. And there is the old-school white doctor’s coat and tinted glasses Morgan mentioned. She thinks Mandrake wears the white coat in homage to
Freud and Jung and the tinted glasses has photophobia, so she warns Jack not to be unnerved by them or the exact pair Mrs. Hudson, the receptionist,
wears. Morgan suspects the doctor hired her out of pity because she suffers from the same affliction. The sunglasses remind Jack of the movie
Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Love the Bomb. Jack needs to check, but he’s sure they match those Peter Sellers wore in his portrayal of the mad scientist.
Putting aside those eccentricities, Morgan swears he’s one hell of a shrink and would never refer him to Jack if she personally doesn’t know how good he is.
“Suicide is not a healthy way to deal with writer’s block, yes.” says the doctor when they finish their introductions. Jack likes the suicide line and will file it away.
Of course, he’ll change it significantly and make it his own. His ego won’t permit anything less. Jack doesn’t like the ‘yes’ crap the doctor occasionally tags on to
the end of his sentences, together with the doctor’s fake English accent. Morgan warns him about that affectation as well. He agrees with her; Mandrake, born in the USA,
morphs into Sir John Gielgud during his medical training at Oxford University. The good doctor sits behind an imposing mahogany desk. Jack, socially distanced,
makes himself comfortable in a thickly padded leather chair. He eyes a small silver-framed photo. Jack can’t see the image and fantasizes it’s a picture of Dr. Strangelove.
He stifles a smirk and forces himself to get serious. Another thing, all the heads-up Morgan gives Jack, for some reason, she forgets to tell him the shrink is six-five.
Now, that’s uncomfortable when Jack thinks about it. At five-eight, Jack always considered himself average, never short, but damn—just sitting there, Mandrake’s a head taller than Jack would be standing.
“Dr. Mandrake, I want to be upfront with you before we begin—I have my doubts.”