OF NECESSITY
Every
effort of mine is a condemnation of fate;
and my heart is--like a
corpse--buried.
-- Constantine P. Cavafy, The City
An ideal subject has been located, just as I have almost begun to give up hope.
Her physical condition is excellent. She is of the right age; more importantly, in terms of the current stage that she is at in the development of her mental faculties, she is precisely what I have been waiting for.
I have been assured that there will be no trouble from those we took her from.
She will begin immediately. There has been enough time lost.
The girl under my charge – I have knowledge of her name but I have chosen not to use it; it is a halfwit that would equate what she was with what the procedures have made of her – is already displaying behaviour that is consistent with what I predicted.
Paranoid schizophrenia. Judging by her symptoms, that is indeed an appropriate estimation of her condition. Not a sound one – incorrect – but appropriate.
It is a positive sign.
Despite my precautions, she managed to escape her room and go outside the ship. We have been forced into the air sooner than we'd have liked.
"Wh…What…" The captain turned to me, once we had her safely locked away, his face a worrying shade of red. "What in hell's name have you done to her?"
"Only what I had to."
"That certainly wasn't in the gorram plan."
"I have done what I had to, Captain Reynolds, to better understand what was done to River. So I can treat her." I saw that he was angry, but why, I could not fathom.
"That girl is not in any pain," I said gently. "I took care of that."
"If she isn't in any pain then why is she trying to run away?"
My hand went out to silence him; there were River's eyes around the corner of the infirmary door, looking at us. Trembling and full of tears.
"Simon…" She stumbled into my arms.
Mal's face was desolate.
I feel that my notes of the most recent weeks – which I have gone over again and again with increasing desperation – have been driving me towards a sobering conclusion.
The restorative surgery that I performed on the patient has not improved her condition any. Without the cognitive reserves of a genius, I fear she is steadily declining into a permanent catatonic state.
And River will no longer speak to me.
What will it take to make her well again?
Could love, joy, pity?
Is there any planet where we can run? Is there any place where she will follow me?
The End
4 January 2006
