Preston Ambrose associated himself with the Holt Institutes in upstate New York a little over a year after his wife Juliann had died of cancer. She was only 43 and he was still dealing with the loss of his lover, friend and partner more than three years ago.
She was a quiet and intelligent woman, who understood him completely due to their years together at the institute where they trained. They’d met, become best friends and completed psychoanalysis training at the prestigious Boulder Psychoanalytic Institute, on the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado. During their time in Colorado, they’d received supervised training, and of course, as a part of that training, underwent a thorough personal psychoanalytic treatment.
Going through the psychoanalytic treatment meant that they had to deal with many of the more unpleasant truths about themselves. Together, they came to learn about the lies they had told themselves, each other and the world at large in order to deceive and avoid dealing with things they didn’t like. During their time at the Boulder Institute, deficits were uncovered, one by one and dealt with. This is the right of passage a psychoanalyst undergoes before being allowed to help others do likewise.
Juliann and Preston grew to love each other while attempting to manage these deceptions instead of being controlled by them. Although therapy is a very personal journey, he and Juliann had undertaken many parts of the journey together; and as a part of their normal lives, would discuss their personal modalities and specifics at dinner, in bed, on weekend skiing trips, or where ever they might be.
They grew centered together; helping one another understand and manage or overcome, identified personal deficits. Juliann knew him so well; she could anticipate his needs and fulfill them both sexually and as a trusted companion. He likewise knew exactly what her mind and body craved during sex and how to help her through life each day. They were husband and wife long before they ever officially and bureaucratically consummated their union together.
Their friends and colleagues commented on how he or she would finish the other’s sentences; which occurred quite regularly as a normal part of their interactions with others. There was barely a thought he couldn’t anticipate and nothing she thought or did would alarm or concern him in any way. The day they’d received the test results, clearly showing the extent to which the cancer had spread throughout her body; he distinctly felt her unambiguous recoil at the shock of knowing, without a shadow of doubt, her time here with him had an end. Since her death, above and beyond the loneliness; what troubled him most was the realization that as time passed, he had more and more difficulty remembering and understanding who she really was.
Just after completing their studies, they’d opened their practice in Boston, on Beacon Street, and immediately began taking patients. She was just twenty-six at the time and he was four years older. Most of their normal patients were the well-to-do wives of the social elite of Boston, who could afford to pay for the sometimes daily visits necessary for quality psychoanalysis to be truly effective.
Life was enchanting during those early years of the practice; both he and Juliann spending almost every waking hour making it successful. Juliann had been so excited about starting their own practice and the people they were helping, most especially the cases they took without pay, in order to serve people who couldn’t afford quality help otherwise.
They worked hard and long in those days except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for Juliann and Preston to play hard and long. Sunday’s were strictly for simple pleasures, complete relaxation and play time for them both. He loved touching and fondling his wife throughout the day, loved her breasts, but more than anything loved to lick her pussy until she came hard. She loved cumming while he licked her passionately. Her passion was sucking his cock. Most Sundays, he would get two or three cock squeezings and suckings throughout the day and in fact, most Sunday’s he’d be awakened with a passionate cock sucking first thing in the morning. They both loved Sundays and solemnly promised each other that nothing else would ever be scheduled on “their day” together. This was their time – just for recharging and enjoying each other as they saw fit. Anything went, and they frolicked with each other unreservedly from morning till night. He really missed Sundays.
They’d joined the Boston Psychoanalytic Society and Institute and eventually participated in first studies and then the creation, programming, learning and training of androids to be used as “Patient Companions”. Initially, they had envisioned the androids would be something people could identify with and talk to. The skin types, eye color, hair styles and general “look” of each could be changed fairly easily to accommodate almost any patient lifestyle. Patients could design a PACOMP which meant that they almost immediately felt comfortable with having them around and in the lives of their families.
It was a huge effort; but one they’d believed in and dedicated themselves to finishing. Money poured their way for the cause in the form of grants and gifts from groups, institutions and societies across the world. Eventually, they needed to hire and manage a full staff of people to administer the grants properly, but in time, after being driven to the brink of psychosis, they outsourced this to a third-party company that did nothing but take care of writing and administering grants, thus freeing their time to focus on the work they were doing as well as writing articles for peer-review and presenting the promise of the PACOMPS everywhere they were asked to be.
After four years managing their own practice; then two years of research and their own practice; they’d realized they could get more accomplished if they stopped trying to juggle both simultaneously. The research work was taking so much of their time, that first one and then the other made the decision to give up their patient practice to complete the project.
They spent the next ten years working with other doctors, designers, scientists and programmers until finally trials of PACOMPS began with each first observing video recordings of, and then participating in actual Doctor-Patient sessions. During this time the PACOMP’S neural-nets were allowed to accumulate information, stimulating maturity and allowing them to make logical connections that had simultaneously amazed and assisted the scientific community as a whole. These creatures were very quickly becoming acclimated and socialized into the life of both normal and abnormal humans.
Additionally, these “Patient Companions” assisted greatly in therapy because of their ability to record everything the patient interacted with in any way. Within the psychotherapeutic community, this meant that a doctor could broaden the practice to include people who couldn’t normally afford this type of care.
Their dreams were being fulfilled and life was so hectic at that time, that when Juliann showed Preston the lump in her leg, he barely took any notice. It was small and hard and near her ankle. Nothing to worry about he’d thought; but after discussing it briefly, they decided it would be best to have it biopsied.
The biopsy was completed at Boston Medical Center, a private academic center. A friend had recommended someone good to interpret the results. When they arrived, the results showed conclusively, a type three aggressive cancer that had to be removed – immediately.
This came as a shock to both of them at the time. This had to be dealt with before their work could continue; and so they’d done just that. Almost immediately, she underwent surgery to remove the lump. It was gone and that was that. Juliann felt fine and was her normal self just days after surgery. They felt lucky they’d been able to catch it and again started working on their beloved PACOMPS.
That was in October and she was 42 years old. Several months passed before she was showing Preston yet another lump and then another. The cancer had returned and was aggressively consuming her. It had followed the usual path of metastases through her lymph system.
She had the best doctors and the best care on the planet. Her condition was treated with a cocktail of pharmaceuticals and procedures; including chemotherapy. Ambrose and Juliann spent her last months dealing with malignant cancer, along with the pain, suffering, personal battles and surgeries that accompanied it – all without a successful outcome.
Somewhere in the numbness of those months, in the midst of her partial awake time; they’d found time to say goodbye, time to plan for the future of the work without her and time to make the arrangements necessary to care for her last wishes. Even though his wife Juliann had lost everything; in the end they were able to express their love and hope for one another’s future journeys. They parted wrapped inside their own comfortable silence; knowing each was completely and unconditionally loved by the other.
Even though he had assured her that he was emotionally prepared and had promised her he’d react differently; Juliann’s death tore through Preston’s heart and soul. It was weeks before he could function at all to eat properly or work.
At first, Preston had tried to go back to work. What Juliann and he had not envisioned was that the PACOMPS were now a global vision. Science had filled the gap that they had left when they found it necessary to leave the work to deal with Juliann’s illness. Multi-national Corporations, military organizations, defense contractors as well as doctors and scientists had filled the void. The work continued and was now bigger than ever.
Applications for PACOMPS ranged from traffic control to monitoring sex offenders and abusive home situations. Even terrorist entities were interested in training them to strap on bombs that could then be exploded at an appropriate moment. More uses were being envisioned for PACOMPS every day and they were showing a remarkable ability to adapt to most of them. Due to the fact that they had begun as a psychoanalytical neural-net, having the ability to learn and mature using the principles and methods of psycho analytics at their core – they were so familiar with the human species and how our minds operate logically, that they could easily adapt to almost any segment of society.
His initial attempts at continuing the work in the manner Juliann and he had prescribed during her final months; had failed. Those involved with the project, the amounts of money, the PACOMPS themselves and their uses in society in general had outgrown his ability to easily adapt. Oh yes, he could still contribute and be very valuable, but it wasn’t the same. Things had changed and it just didn’t feel right to him.
After consulting a trusted colleague and friend regarding his feelings; he’d taken some time to reflect and regain his perspective. During that time, in the cool mountain air of a Colorado Ski resort cabin; he’d decided to seek out the professor who’d been his colleague and friend in college. His most trusted advisor in those days was Professor Timothy Stratton, who had psychoanalyzed him in college.
Professor Stratton was now teaching at the Holt Institutes in West Bridge - upstate New York. The Holt Institutes were unusual – being a somewhat experimental institute. Not only were students offered the ability to earn their degree and license as a Medical Doctor, but instead of waiting until after they’d accomplished becoming a doctor before introducing them to psychoanalysis, Holt started them almost immediately on a four-year course of clinical training in psychoanalysis at the same time. What enabled this monumental alteration of normal curricula to be possible was the use of PACOMPS.
Preston was stunned when he’d first learned of the institute, their approach to the clinical training of psychoanalysts and especially their use of PACOMPS. He contacted his old friend, spent two weeks relaxing with his colleague, and received an offer almost immediately to join the institute with lifetime tenure guaranteed. He and Juliann had amassed quite a reputation and apparently his tenure at this institution was regarded without question as one of the finest feathers in its cap.
The week after his acceptance, a faculty and benefactor brunch was held in his honor. The invitations read:
Holt Institutes Welcome Reception
Join us for Brunch!
The Holt Institutes invites you to help us welcome Doctor Preston Ambrose, who joins the faculty of this prestigious institution as Professor of Psychoanalysis.
One of the principle creators of the PACOMP, Dr. Ambrose has spent the last ten years in research and development of the PACOMP Patient Companion Android Unit.
Professor Ambrose and his lovely daughters Clarissa and Megan will take up residence in Blair House, our historical faculty housing unit on Fifth Street.