Although Katja’s field was biochemistry (more specifically: pharmacology) and not psychology or psychiatry, she wasn’t the first person you’d expect at a conference about mental health. However, drugs, the topic of her current research, were just as present in the field of mental health as of physical health, and as such there were, in fact, speakers who were possibly relevant to her. She’d already attended one lecture (disappointingly misinformed and stereotypical) and was now well into her second one (which, so far, seemed much more promising).

What a nightmarish story, no pun intended (ha ha, pun absolutely intended). Since she was currently working on a doctorate and therefore had by now memorised aaaaall the rules of data processing, anonymisation and so on, Katja of course assumed that "Mr. Jenkins" was a pseudonym, rather than the man’s real name. Because, quite frankly, that was probably a story no one would like to be associated with by name.

Ooooh, a snowball effect! Katja took note and highlighted that part on her notepad to remember to ask the speaker for references to include this case in her literature review. Or, if it hadn’t ben published, she’d just have to enter it as a lecture in her sources. As she noted, she continued listening (yay multitasking!) in case the woman said what exactly in the medication had caused this rather unfortunate side effect (if it was known, of course, considering how few studies paid attention to the concrete effects of medication on mutant physiology).

While the woman speaking didn’t give off any mad scientist vibes, at least not as far as Katja was concerned, talks of isolating a mutant who was having a breakdown (or kind of) sounded awfully like ‘20s asylum horror stories. Still, she didn’t speak up yet, instead waiting to hear the next part of the story. Given the circumstances, she guessed that isolation made sense — as long as it was only a temporary measure.

If this was turning into a participatory lecture, Katja would participate: "Because the adrenaline might interact negatively with the sedatives you’ve just given, because, especially with a mutant physiology, you can’t be sure of the side effects adrenaline will have, because if the patient’s mind is already overstimulated and his abilities boosted, the adrenaline might make the problem worse and create a vicious circle…" She wasn’t even a doctor and she could think of many more possible problems with that approach.

"That their powers depend on how they feel?", one of the listeners tried. At that, Katja spoke up again: "That’s hardly specific to mutants, though. Everyone’s ability to function is tied to their psyche, to some extent. It doesn’t matter whether you’re an athlete, an artist, an accountant, a high school sophomore… How you feel and your mental health will affect your behaviour and your capacities."

"To some extent, as you said." Anastasia nodded. "And some are more responsive to it than others. According to the theory, however, in the case of mutants, when their emotions overflow, it shows on their power first; and when their powers overflow, it shows on their mental ability too." "Doesn't that concern mostly mutants with mental powers then? "Ah. I'd say it's more visible on them yes. But not only."

Yes, when mutants snapped their abilities (for the ones who had spectacular ones) were typically the first sign. And in other people it showed through excessive speeding, yelling or causing a shooting. But that was a whole other issue and this wasn’t a study day on gun violence. Katja was still left with an unanswered question, though: how had they solved the example patient’s issue? She didn’t ask it just yet, but would if the discussion veered off-topic without giving indications of going back to the story that had started it.

So, really, hibernating was a power move. More seriously: whatever extra "power" people got when sleeping (whether they were mutants or not) wouldn’t do them much good, since they wouldn’t be able to use it. And, as the current story pointed out, that "power" (yes, the air quotes were absolutely necessary) could sometimes even be harmful and, as such, more of a handicap than an asset. "So, how was Mr. Jenkins’ problem solved?" That is, if it had been.

That was not very specific, but Katja wouldn’t press, not wanting to put this Jenkins or maybe the other mutant involved in an awkward position. She scribbled down a few more notes and questions to ask the speaker after her presentation before looking up again.

As the lecture went on, Katja’s notepad became more and more full of scribbles which probably looked like gibberish to everyone except Katja herself — since she was the only one who would need to use these notes, that was fine. During the speaker’s next pause in her lecture, Katja’s hand shot up again: "These side effects you describe, are they the ‘standard’ side effects for these pills, regardless of who uses them, or specific to mutants? And, if they’re specific to mutants, is it anecdotal evidence, or are there studies about them?" Shows still thinking of the literature on which to base her own research.

The reply didn’t surprise Katja, considering the diversity amongst mutants. Still, she would be sure to ask for the references of these one-case studies after the lecture. "You keep talking about side effects affecting mutants’ powers", God, she didn’t like that word, "do you know if any of these studies also paid attention to other aspects of mutants’ physiologies?" The beauty of the X-Gene was that it could leave you perfectly ‘normal’ just as it could turn your blood acidic, your bones into rubber and your hair into algae.

It probably wasn’t too hard a deduction to make and Katja didn’t hesitate before replying: "I am. I’m currently writing a doctorate on the effects of medication on mutants." Well, it was a bit more specific than that, but she wasn’t going to go into details (yet).