The bug man says, “I think you’re talking about dissociative identity disorder, or DID.”

Dissociative identity disorder. It sounds like something that goes wrong with a TV or a stereo. It doesn’t sound like anything to do with Lauren.

The bug man is watching me closely, and I realize that I am murmuring to myself. Being weird. I fix him with a firm gaze. “That’s very interesting.”

“It used to be known as multiple personality disorder,” he says. “DID is a new term—but we still don’t really understand it. I deal with it extensively in my book. In fact, you might say the whole thesis—”

“So what do we understand?” I say, keeping him to the point. I know from experience that if I don’t he’ll just talk about his book forever.

“The girl in your TV show would probably have been subject to systematic abuse, physical or emotional,” he says. “So her mind fragmented. It formed a new personality to deal with the trauma. It’s rather beautiful. An intelligent child’s elegant solution to suffering.” He leans forward. His eyes are bright behind his glasses. “Is that what you saw, on the show? Abuse?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe I missed that part while I was getting popcorn. Anyway the mother doesn’t know what to do about it. What should she do? In your professional opinion.”

“There are two schools of thought on this,” he says. “The first sets as its goal a state known as co-consciousness.” He sees my look, and says, “A therapist would try to help the alternate personalities, or alters, to find a way to live harmoniously with one another.”

I almost laugh out loud. Lauren could never live harmoniously with anyone. “That wouldn’t work,” I say. “On the show the two people don’t know that they’re one person.”

“Her imagination could be made to work for her,” he says. “She doesn’t have to be at its mercy. She should construct a place inside herself. A real structure. A lot of children use castles, or mansions. But it can be anything. A room, a barn. Big, with enough room for everyone. Then she can invite the different parts to congregate there safely. They can get to know one another.”

“They really don’t like each other,” I say.

“I can recommend some reading,” he says. “That could help you understand this approach better.”

“What’s the other school of thought?”

“Integration. The alters are subsumed into the primary personality. Effectively, they disappear.”

“Like dying.” Like murder.