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part 3 of the story
A S Y L U M

Mark Pearce

IV

    Nigel sat perched on his bed in the asylum, his legs pulled up to his chest. The room was simple and comfortable. There were two single beds, a couple of chairs, and a table with a potted plant. It might almost have been a college dorm room except for the window. Outside the glass pane was a small gate of bars with a sturdy lock.
    Koestler entered, led by Nurse Opel.
    “This is where you will be staying, Mr. Koestler,” she said. “This is Mr. Tonn, your roommate.”
    “Hello,” said Koestler.
    Nigel did not respond.
    “Let me know if you need anything,” said Ms. Opel. “Harry will be coming in shortly to administer some tests.”
    “Harry. Is he that big, beefy fellah who brought me over here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is he a typical example of the staff here?”
    “How do you mean?”
    “I mean he was obviously hired more for his size than his intellect.”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Hey, loosen up. I don’t bite.” He started to sit down, then an idea occurred to him. “Oh, maybe sometimes.” He leaped for Ms. Opel and made loud chewing noises as he pretended to eat her shoulder.
    “Mr. Koestler, stop!” she said, shocked. She struggled with him and began to laugh. “Mr. Koestler, stop it. What if Dr. Reid came in?”
    Koestler chewed his way over her shoulder and started down her back. The chewing noises became louder and more insistent. As a last resort, she played along. “Down boy! Down!”
    Koestler dropped to his knees and held his hands limp in front of him in a begging dog pose.
    Ms. Opel was amused. “I can tell you’re going to be a handful.”
    “If I’m lucky.”
    He started to rise toward her.
    “Down boy,” she said, as a benevolent warning.
    He leaned back against the table. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
    “I need to be getting on with my duties,” she said. “Are you going to behave yourself?”
    “Scout’s honor.”
    “Okay. Harry will be in soon. Then dinner will be served in the room at six.”
    “I’ve already had mine, thank you.”
    She smiled slightly, flustered, then started to leave.
    “Wait,” said Koestler. “You haven’t told me your name.”
    “I’m Ms. Opel.”
    “I know that. “What’s your first name?”
    “Sharon.”
    Koestler smiled and watched as she left the room.
    He turned to Nigel. “Well, it looks as if we’re going to be rooming together. My name is Peter.”
    He offered his hand, but it was refused.
    “Been here long?”
    Nigel did not answer.
    “I just got in today,” said Koestler. “It looks like a nice place.” He smiled. “Pretty nurses. This is supposed to be a good hospital. I hear they’re very modern.”
    Nigel looked up abruptly.
    “They say Dr. Reid is one of the best in the field,” said Koestler. “I’ve been to a lot of psychiatrists. None has ever been able to cure me, though,” then, under his breath, he added, “as if that’s what I wanted.”
    Nigel’s voice was intense. “Don’t you want to be cured?”
    “Not especially.”
    “He’ll do it,” said Nigel. “Dr. Reid can cure anybody.”
    “Is he helping you?”
    Nigel turned his back and clammed up again.
    “Do you like Dr. Reid?” said Koestler.
    Nigel was silent. A long moment passed.
    “I know this is kind of strange for both of us,” said Koestler. “Maybe we can help each other through it. Like when things start confusing us, when there are things we don’t understand, we can talk about it, and maybe we can figure it out together.”
    Nigel looked at him. “Do you get lonely sometimes?”
    “Often.”
    “Me, too.” He thought for a moment, then spoke desperately. “Why do they want us cured?”
    “They think it will help us.”
    “Don’t they know how much it hurts?”
    “They think it will be worth it.”
    Nigel pulled his legs up and sulked. “They don’t have to be in here.”
    “How long have you been here?”
    “Six months. Seven. I’m not sure. How about you? Is this your first time in a place like this?”
    “Yes.”
    “What were you put in here for?”
    “I have strange ideas. For instance . . .” he stepped up to the table, “. . . I have a theory about plants. I think it was plants that were created in God’s image, rather than men. Plants never fight, never go to war, and they are bursting with life. They stretch their leaves up to the sky and reach their roots down into the ground, gaining nourishment from God’s soil and sunlight.”
    “Then what are people for?”
    “People are just fertilizer producing machines. We’re supposed to eat the other animals and produce fertilizer to help nourish the plants. That’s why the world is in such bad shape now. We’re being punished for not fulfilling our destiny. Instead of allowing our fertilizer to drop onto the soil, we flush it into the sewer. That is our greatest sin. That, coupled with the fact that . . .” he motioned to the potted plant “. . . some people keep plants in slavery.”
    Nigel laughed. “You are crazy!”
    Koestler smiled. “Thank you.”
    The boy smiled timidly. “My name is Nigel.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Nigel.”
    “I’ve got delusions,” said Nigel, brightly.
    Koestler laughed. “Don’t we all?”
    They stopped speaking when Harry entered, carrying a satchel. “Dr. Reid told me to administer some tests to you,” he said. “My name is Harry.”
    “We met on the way over here, remember?” said Koestler. “I was being dragged, you were doing the dragging.”
    Harry stood for a moment, at a loss for what to say.
    “About these tests, Harry, why don’t you just get my answers out of your files? I’ve taken them all a dozen times.”
    “Are you refusing to cooperate?”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Koestler. “I always believe in cooperating. It’s like I heard from this bumble bee the other day. I was over on Sixth Avenue when he came by and landed on my shoulder. I asked him how it is that bees are able to work in such harmony with each other, and he said—”
    “Wait a minute. I’m lost. You say you were talking to a bumble bee?”
    “Any reason why I shouldn’t?”
    “Yes!”
    “Harry, you surprise me. I never would have taken you for a bigot.”
    “Is this a joke?”
    “I don’t think it’s a joking matter when you refuse to talk to someone just because they’re different from you.”
    “But a bumble bee? You mean an actual little bee that flies around and has a stinger and everything?”
    “At least the bee carries his stinger out where everyone can see it.”
    Harry looked to Nigel, then back at Koestler. “All of this seems to be beside the point. Let’s get on with these tests.”
    “Sure.”
    Harry sat at the table. Koestler joined him on the other side. Harry laid out a stack of cards, then pulled out a pen and paper for taking notes.
    “First we’re going to do word association,” he said. “I’ll say a word, and you say the first word that comes into your mind. All right?”
    “All wrong.”
    “No, don’t start.”
    “Yes, do stop.”
    “Stop that!”
    “Go this!”
    “Mr. Koestler!”
    “Harry!”
    “Settle down!”
    “Unsettle up!”
    Harry grabbed Koestler’s mouth and held it securely. Koestler offered no resistance. He just stared at Harry over the fingers that clutched his mouth. Harry was uncertain how to proceed.
    “Now don’t start until I’m ready,” he said.
    He let go of Koestler’s mouth and picked up his notebook. He started to say something, but when he looked at Koestler’s intent expression, he changed his mind. Instead, he looked into the notebook and began the test.
    “Black,” he said.
    “Night,” said Koestler.
    “Large.”
    “Small.”
    “Girl.”
    “Oboy!”
    Harry eyed him suspiciously, then continued. “Money.”
    “Help.”
    “Push.”
    “Recede.”
    “Sex.”
    “Ms. Opel.”
    Harry eyed him again. Nigel grinned.
    Koestler suddenly looked shocked and leaned forward as if he were looking intently at something. Harry strained to see it.
    Koestler looked abruptly at Harry and said: “Boy!”
    Harry responded automatically: “Girl!”
    “Shirt,” said Koestler, quickly.
    “Pants,” responded Harry.
    “Laugh.”
    “Cry.”
    “Strong.”
    “Weak.”
    “Watermelon pits.”
    Harry looked confused for a moment, then frowned. “Wait a minute!”
    “Go an hour!” said Koestler.
    “Stop!”
    “Go!”
    Harry grabbed Koestler’s mouth again. “Boy,” he said in awe, “this stuff can get outta hand if you’re not careful. I think that’s enough word association for today.”
    He let go of Koestler’s mouth.
    “Awww—” said Koestler, disappointed.
    “Let’s try the Rorschach test,” said Harry.
    “Can Nigel play?”
    “No, I’m supposed to test you.” He picked the top card from the stack and held it up to Koestler. “Now, what do you see?”
    Koestler looked at the card. “I see a small boy climbing up a hill to his grandmother’s house in a roaring blizzard.”
    “Okay,” said Harry; he started to put the card away.
    Koestler grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’m not finished . . . I see the grandmother standing on her porch, peering through the blizzard, watching her grandson through her feeble eyes . . . She’s holding a scarf she knitted for him on long, cold evenings as she sat alone by the fireplace . . .”
    Harry began to peer at the card, trying to see what Koestler was seeing.
    “I see his dog, running faithfully by his side, eager to please his master in any way he can. I see the birds . . .”
    Harry suddenly pulled the card back. “That’s enough. We have a lot more of these to look at.” He pulled the next card from the pile. “Now, what do you see in this one?”
    Koestler stared intently at the card for a moment. “I see a small boy, climbing up a hill to his grandmother’s house in a roaring blizzard. I see the grandmother—”
    “Hey!”
    “What’s wrong?”
    Harry looked uncertainly at the two cards. “I’m not sure.” He looked at the stack they had not yet seen. “Probably not much sense looking at the rest of these.” He scratched his head and looked through his notes. “I think I need another conference with Dr. Reid. Something went wrong. I’ll be right back.”
    He left through the door. Nigel, who had been struggling to keep back his laughter, now let go.
    “That was great! Did you see the look on his face?”
    “If Dr. Reid is anything like Harry, this place will be a cinch,” said Koestler.
    At the mention of Reid’s name, Nigel froze. “He’s not. He’s not like him at all.” Nigel’s tone was strained. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. They’re going to be mad.”
    “What can they do?”
    Nigel turned away and did not answer.
    Nurse Opel entered carrying a tray and two meals. “Are you gentlemen ready to eat?”
    “That depends,” said Koestler. “What’s on the menu?”
    She smiled. “Just what you see on the tray.” She set it down. “I’ll leave this here. You can call me when you’re finished.” She turned to leave.
    “Sharon?” said Koestler. She stopped and turned. “Am I just here for tests, or does Reid have the authority to treat me?”
    “I’m not allowed to answer that.”
    “You just did. Thank you.”
    She waited a moment, then left.
    “Dr. Reid can do anything he wants here,” said Nigel.
    Koestler smiled. “I’m sure your Dr. Reid is a very intelligent man, but I’ll bet he doesn’t know about angels.”
    “What?”
    “Angels have wings.”

IV

    A thin beam of sunlight came through the glass and caught the dancing particles of dust in the air. Nigel sat on the edge of the bed watching Koestler who was crouched by the window. He had been in that position a long time.
    “What are you doing?” said Nigel.
    “I’m trying to figure out if I can open this. The window is easy, but the lock on the bars is more complicated than the ones my friend taught me on. I’ll need a bent piece of metal.”
    “You’ll get in trouble.”
    “I’ve been in trouble before.”
    “Not with Dr. Reid.”
    “I’ll take my chances.”
    There was a pause. “Peter?”
    “Yes?”
    Nigel spoke quietly. “Don’t leave me.”
    Koestler turned slowly, then moved to sit beside him on the bed. “I can’t stay here.”
    Nigel lowered his head sadly.
    “Would you like to come with me?” said Koestler.
    “Could I?”
    “Sure.”
    “I promise I won’t be any trouble,” said Nigel. “We can go anywhere you want. We can go far away where nobody else can come.”
    “Sure,” said Koestler. “We’ll be okay.”
    The door to the room opened and Dr. Reid entered, followed by Harry.
    “Hello, gentlemen,” he said. “I hope you slept well. Nigel, if you will be so kind as to go with Harry, it’s time for your treatment. Dr. Knowles will be assisting.”
    Harry led Nigel from the room.
    Reid looked at Koestler. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I’m Dr. Reid. Have you been getting settled in here all right?”
    “A bit.”
    “I want you to relax. Feel at home. We’re very informal here. You and I will have several sessions together to get acquainted before we decide on a treatment.”
    “Before we decide?”
    “Yes. The patients choose their own treatments here. Based upon my observations, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “So I want everything to meet with your approval. Are you comfortable here?”
    “Barbed wire fence, gorilla orderly—very impressive.”
    Dr. Reid grinned in spite of himself. “Harry told me you gave him quite a time.”
    “Never send a baboon to do an inquisitor’s job.”
    “Do you resent being here?”
    “It’s not so bad.” He went to the window and exclaimed grandly. “Though the windows may have bars, I still can hear the stars.”
    “Tell me about that,” said Reid. “What do the stars sound like to you?”
    “Hope.”
    “Hope?”
    “Yes. If you could take hope and transform it into a sound, that’s what the stars sound like.”
    “And what do you hope for?”
    “A world where Peter Koestler will not be considered insane.”
    “Which would be better? To change the world, or to change one man?”
    “Is the man right?”
    “Suppose he just thinks he’s right?”
    “Then he should be allowed to follow his star in peace. You asked me if I resent being here. I resent being condemned for my good traits and blessed for my bad. When I was a businessman, I was loved. Now that I’m an angel, I’m punished. I resent the fact that I’m in here, and my nephew is out there.”
    “It’s only natural that you should feel a certain amount of animosity toward your nephew at this point.”
    “My nephew is only a victim himself.”
    “Then who is the enemy?”
    Koestler looked away and spoke slowly. “That, I haven’t discovered yet. I only know that there’s something wrong with a world that hounds me as though I were insane simply because I stopped seeing life as a battleground and began seeing it as a paradise.” He turned back to Reid. “It’s so rare to see a person follow the inner voice which tells them who they really are. And when one of these rare human beings comes along, one of the true individualists, the world tries to crush the life out of them.”
    “One of the rare human beings like yourself, for instance?”
    “Like myself, for instance. Or Nigel.”
    “When Nigel came here he was violent, even dangerous. As you can tell, the improvement has been remarkable. As for yourself, I understand you better than you realize. For instance, I know you don’t really hear the stars.”
    Koestler stared powerfully at him. “Go on.”
    “All your life you regretted the fact that the stars don’t sing, that there is no Santa Claus, that men don’t have the benevolence of plants. In short, you regretted that the world is not a paradise. You sought happiness in your intellectual and financial pursuits, but these were a poor substitute for Heaven. Then, after you had gained financial security and could live any way you chose, you decided to live as though the world were a paradise after all. You pretended to hear the stars, you pretended to talk to animals, and when people took you seriously, you were amused. You decided to take the game to its limit—”
    Koestler finished his statement, “—and show people what it’s like to be an angel in paradise. But if you believe that—”
    “Then why did I allow you to be committed? I didn’t just allow it. I pressed for it.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you truly are insane.”
    Koestler spoke in awe. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
    “I do. Your insanity does not manifest itself in hallucinations, but rather in your frenzied search for paradise. You have definite delusions and acute monomania which compounds your condition and is detrimental to your emotional and psychological welfare. But don’t worry. I can help you.”
    “I don’t want your help.”
    The door opened and Harry entered, half carrying Nigel into the room. Nigel was drenched in sweat, his hair matted to his head. His eyes were glazed, and he could barely walk.
    Koestler jumped toward him. “Nigel!”
    Harry dragged Nigel to his bed. Koestler rushed over. He pulled Nigel’s eye open with his thumb and let it snap back. He turned to Reid. “What have you done to him?”
    “Sometimes the treatment hits them pretty hard,” said Reid. “It’ll wear off.”
    “Treatment?! What kind of treatment do you have here?”
    “You wouldn’t understand it.”
    Koestler’s voice was firm, almost vicious, “Try me.”
    “It’s a variation of electrotherapy.”
    “Electrotherapy!?”
    “I know what you’re thinking,” said Reid, “but it’s not like that at all. I use my own technique, based on stimulation of the motivational centers of the brain. The desired thought processes are taught to the patient who is then stimulated if they stray from the desired behavioral and thought patterns.”
    “Brainwashing!” said Koestler. “That’s all you’re talking about. Brainwashing through torture! Shock them if they do wrong until their minds become putty.”
    “Calm down, Mr. Koestler. I knew you would not understand. These procedures might be termed brainwashing if they were used on normal individuals. Nigel is suffering from delusions which incite negative behavior patterns which must be eliminated.”
    “He suffering from the treatments!” said Koestler. He moved menacingly toward Reid. “You said he got violent? Well, if you ever hook that child up to your machine again, I’ll show you what violence is!”
    Harry held him back.
    “Calm down, Mr. Koestler.” Reid stepped to the door. “Ms. Opel, come in here.” She entered. “Mr. Koestler needs some medication to calm him down. See to Mr. Tonn first, though.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    She went to Nigel, checked his eyes, then began to take his pulse.
    Reid turned to Harry. “Take Mr. Koestler to my office.”
    Koestler struggled against Harry’s grip and whirled on Reid. “You remember what I said and keep your machines away from that boy!”
    Harry dragged Koestler from the room.
    “I want you to rearrange the schedules,” said Reid to Ms. Opel. “I’m afraid Mr. Koestler is going to have to undergo electrotherapy.”

VI

    Nigel paced the room as Koestler sat on the bed. He rubbed his hands together and felt the dampness of his palms.
    “Are you okay?” said Koestler.
    “Sure,” said Nigel, nervously.
    “Trust me.”
    Nigel stopped pacing and looked at him. “I do.” He went to the window and stared out. “I can’t see your star.”
    “It’s out there.”
    “I’ll find it.”
    “Do you remember everything I told you?”
    “Yes.”
    The door opened. Dr. Reid and Harry came into the room.
    “It’s time for your treatment, Nigel,” said Reid.
    Harry took Nigel out.
    Dr. Reid turned to Koestler. “And how are you today?”
    “Still captive.”
    “You’ll live.”
    “Think so? When I was at the university, I saw an experiment done with two groups of rats. It was conducted by a colleague of mine, Dr. David Lester. Every day he would pick up each rat in Group One and squeeze it until it hurt slightly, then let it wriggle free as if by its own effort. The rats in Group Two were squeezed with the same amount of pressure as those in Group One, but they were not allowed to wriggle free. After a few moments, they were put back into their cage. The rats in Group One remained strong and healthy. The rats in Group Two died within a matter of months. Dr. Lester concluded that a feeling of helplessness is physically disabling in and of itself.” He walked to the window and stared out. “I wonder whether any useful knowledge is to be gained by torturing small animals.”
    “Some animals are worthless,” said Reid.
    “Is that your professional opinion?” Koestler turned to face him. “How much would you assess Nigel’s value at?”
    “All human beings are valuable,” said Reid. “And redeemable. I’m not a monster, Mr. Koestler. I’m a dedicated medical professional. I’m good at what I do, and I’m proud of it. I only take special cases, people whose sole problem is that their thinking habits have strayed until their behavior is detrimental to their well-being. My patients show no sign of physical damage, no tissue degeneration, and yet their ability to function has deteriorated. I turn them into healthy, productive members of society.”
    “You torture people and consider yourself noble.”
    “Sometimes I do have to torture people. You think I don’t know the pain Nigel goes through? I suffer every time I have to give him a treatment. He’s going through Hell at my hands. But I’ll drive the sickness out of him if I have to burn down to his very soul.”
    “I see more clearly now who the enemy is,” said Koestler.
    Harry burst into the room. “Dr. Reid! Come quick!”
    “What is it?”
    “Mr. Tonn has escaped!”
    “What?”

 

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