Frostpunk Divine Throne-Chapter 20: Clinical Analysis (Two)

Silent clients were very difficult to deal with. Those like Aldridge, who touched traumatic subjectivity even when speaking a few words, were even more difficult. This meant he wasn't suited to speak about his own situation. Cyren had to probe indirectly from the side.
"You can remain silent." Cyren said, then gestured for him to sit on the nearby empty shelf.
Aldridge froze, sat on the shelf. His mouth that had just wanted to speak was suddenly blocked.
That feeling was very uncomfortable. He spoke very little. When Schneider sought him out, he also hadn't told his story. But when he wanted to speak, he was abruptly blocked.
That prohibition didn't suppress his desire to speak, but instead further aroused his resistance and anger. That desire to accuse surged unprecedentedly. Red appeared on his face.
"Forty-two years ago, I was in the Mountain Kingdom." He said. Years of silence and calm still suppressed his anger, "I was the designer of the Steel Angels."
Cyren remained expressionless, instead interrupting his words, "The designer, or one of the designers?"
"Uh... one of them." Aldridge was forced to explain. The complete train of thought that had just been in his mind was also interrupted. He fell silent again for a few seconds to reorganize the disrupted narrative logic.
"We were all the Church's most outstanding craftsmen. I was taken to read the dwarves' classics, learn the dwarves' techniques. The purpose was to replicate runic technology, to manufacture the Church's own..." He paused.
"I began learning the dwarven language, translating classics, modifying runes. I preserved their structure, then modified them into [Sacred Runes]."
"I, or we?" Cyren asked again.
"...We." Aldridge responded helplessly, "I was responsible for part of the content."
Cyren didn't answer.
From these several slips of the tongue, Aldridge was very proud of his achievements. That was a craftsman's honor. He might have even received major commendations from the Church. At that time he must have been proud and pleased.
But the one who bore all glory would also bear all responsibility behind that glory.
The Steel Angels' atrocities in war were what he detested or even hated, but he began by saying "I was the designer of the Steel Angels." His pride made him ignore others' contributions, but also proudly shoulder all guilt.
Cyren silently analyzed, listening to Aldridge's account.
"I worked there for two years, received the Mountain Medal. The Church only gave this medal to three people. After the runic system was perfected, the Church began devoting itself to developing war machines..."
"Do you still remember who gave you the medal, who ordered the development of war machines?" Cyren asked.
"Uh... the medal was awarded by the Pope, the order came from the College of Cardinals..." Aldridge became confused due to Cyren's interruption. He couldn't fluently narrate his own story.
And this was exactly what Cyren needed.
When a client narrated himself, he generally used a set of "thought-through and selectively beautified, rationally filled" rhetoric. That kind of rhetoric was mostly nonsense to an analyst because it was full of fantasy and disguise.
Just like some brother crying over drinks in front of you about his tragic romantic experience, the ending was mostly being cheated on, but he basically wouldn't mention his own problems and behavior, only narrate the other party's mistakes and emphasize his own pain and wounds.
This kind of speech was typical false speech modified by subjective consciousness. The purpose was to establish a tragic, romantically failed self before the listener to obtain their sympathy, care, and understanding, thereby inversely constructing oneself. Ah, he's right, I am such a hurt and pained person.
But an analyst was absolutely not such a loyal buddy image. He had to disrupt the other party's train of thought through interruption, repetition, and emphasis, making his speech chaotic, thereby exposing unmodified by rationality, genuine consciousness.
From the moment Aldridge showed an extremely pained expression before him, Cyren understood he wanted to shape a guilty, repentant, pained self, but he absolutely couldn't let him succeed.
Because that was only an imagined self constructed with language.
Aldridge finally remembered what he wanted to say and continued, "I... we developed the Steel Angels. That was my most outstanding work. The B1-Seraphim was what we designed... Later I learned the Church had killed all the dwarves, burned all their classics after translation..."
"Do you have any particularly vivid images?" Cyren suddenly interjected.
"...A very large fire, knights dragging dwarves to the edge of a pit, crosses hung full of dwarf crowns..."
Cyren silently contemplated.
Aldridge always used the term [Church], rather than depicting specific scenes or specific people, representing that what he truly wanted to accuse was the big Other, that is, the entire Church system.
Through the long years, he might have forgotten which people did certain things, but he still remembered the Church's structural persecution of dwarves. Therefore, the subject of persecution in his language was always the word [Church], not a certain person or a certain order.
"After that I ran away. I hid in Londinium, but later news of the Fifth Crusade came, and newspaper photos of Steel Angels massacring people..."
Aldridge covered his face, sat on the empty shelf, silently weeping and silent.
Cyren completely understood. This was a double collapse.
First was the collapse of the Church's majesty and sanctity. Aldridge could no longer obtain from this big Other the anchor points of "what identity am I," "what kind of person should I become," "what is my meaning." Instead, he received the unbearable accusation of "executioner."
Second was symbolic guilt. It was the Steel Angels he designed. That was the real manifestation of his wisdom, desire, and meaning, his proudest work. Yet the Steel Angels' conduct made his entire existence polluted because of his work. That split deprived him of the desire to create. He fell into nothingness.
When he looked at the Steel Angels, that appreciation and sorrow in his eyes was a glimpse of the Real, representing his traumatized memories.
"Forgive me, Bishop, I am guilty." He said but Cyren suddenly sneered coldly.
Their face-to-face posture was like the Church's [Confession], generally where the sinner narrated his own sins and the priest absolved and comforted him.
But since in Aldridge's heart the Church's sanctity had long since collapsed, then what position did he have as the Church's spokesman to comfort him?
Just like a dead person running before a criminal saying, you killed me, I'm in so much pain, I'm guilty.
He wasn't seeking forgiveness. He was using his own pain to nail the Church's guilt to an iron plate! Wasn't his own pain, distortion, and repentance itself ironclad evidence of the Church's crimes?
He placed himself as evidence before the big Other, the Church system.
Look! Behold! This is the evil you committed! This is what you did!