Author's note: I really wanted this to become something more because when the video treatment was born, it didn't have this dialogue between 2D and a psychiatrist which basically introduces the reader into what's happening. This intro was inspired by Peter Shaffer's play "Equus" and I really wanted to make this into a play, start to finish, because I enjoyed writing dialogues. As morethanjustausername suggested, maybe I will actually work on this further, while I'm still motivated and inspired.
"Mr. Stuart Pot was particularly hard to work with. Not aggressive, yet strongly uninterested in cooperation. He is extremely introverted and prone to frequent nervous breakdowns. The way he jumps in his speech from Received Pronunciation to Cockney when getting too emotional which might indicate a bipolar disorder (needs to be confirmed). His case was brought in from the London Police department two weeks ago, however until now the progress of retrieving information from him was very slow."
"So you said you were singing in your cell in Whittingham Mental Asylum when you were told you have a visitor?"
"Yes. Just like now I was looking out the window and singgin'. My thoughts would trail off into the distance I was starin' at yet at the back of my head I knew this day was special for me. I 'ad lucky Bill from cell 168 warn me that I was next in line to be taken down to the basement. No one ever came back from there. Ever."
"Tell me more about Dr. Murdoc Niccals' visit. Was he a frequent visitor?"
"Nope. Russel and Noodle would visit me more often. This was the second time I saw him after I was 'ospitalized. That's why it was so special. It's like I knew 'e was sent to help me that day. 'e was my means of escape."
"Tell me where you two met in the ward. What were you talking about?"
"They'd let guests into the cells. There's always a male nurse at the end of each corridor in case sumfink 'appens. I… I don't know what we talked about. All I can remember is that it 'it me when I saw 'im; that he was my ticket out of this place. Like, all the beatin' I took in the asylum. All the beatin' I took from him. The next fink I remember is I strike 'im ter the bloody ground, right, grab me chair and knock 'im out. S'all, right."
"And you claim you don't have any recollection of what happened before you got him down to the operating room in the basement, nor how or where you got the doctor's apparel from?"
"That's right."
"I see. But can you explain how did you get out of your cell if it was always locked from the outside?"
"I can't, I already told you that."
"And no recollection whatsoever about how you passed unnoticed by the other staff? Surely they know their inmates."
Silence.
"How many years did you spend in that asylum?"
"A year and 'alf it was, me thinks. All I can say for sure is that the doctors that do the research don't work inside the facility. And I'm sure if you ask the same question to one of the doctors they would be able to fill you in more than me."
"How convenient. So in other words, the two doctors, or researchers… Let's refer to them as (#1 and #2 from now on, shall we?) that went into the basement with you. They had no idea that you were an inmate pretending to be one of the staff working at the ward?"
"Yeah. It was easy, really, even for me. All I 'ad to do is follow orders. It seems that they are at the 'ead of the game; the asylum was just their playground. I mean, where do they even come from, maybe some larger 'ospital in London? Dunno."
"Alright, Stuart, I know this will be hard for you and you've already talked to the police about it. But I need you to do your best and remember every detail that you can and tell me what happened in that basement."
"Why, so you can lock me up in another one of 'em nuthouses?"
Nervous flicking of a lighter.
"Don't fret, no one is going to lock you up anywhere. And please, this is a non-smoking area…"
Unresponsive silence.
"Stuart?"
A long, drawn out sigh. Hiss of a put-out cigarette.
Me, #1 and #2 dragged his limp body downstairs. Funny but those details are so vivid. Like the shabby and crooked staircase. The wood so old it creaked after every step. In the center of each stair there was a trodden dent from frequent use. The basement was a small room of red brick with old worn-out pipes and a 'uge boiler. On the left from the stairs, a metal door with a small glass window. I was so agitated I fought I'd frow up at the sight of the bright room that I saw in that window. It's there where evryfink was done. We carried Murdoc in and put 'im on the table.
The room 'ad light-blue tiles and a ceilin' yellow from floods. There was blood smeared on the tiles in some places. Yet the operatin' table was surprisingly new. It 'ad leather straps for wrists, ankles and torso. #2 asked me if the patient was unruly but discarded the question and told me to fasten the belts anyway after I'm done with taking Murdoc's top off. To the left of the bed there was a stainless steel table with all sorts of fings in the tray: scalpels, scissors and whatnot. I felt I was growin' pale in the face when the man who was standing next to the equipment on the right side of the bed addressed me. I reckoned I should start doing as told unless I want to blow my cover.
I began strapping Murdoc down to the table, starting with 'is wrists. I can feel it even now, how alert my mind was – but 'ow slow were my movements. I watched closely how #2 untangled some wires and stuck wee little pads on Murdoc's temples and neck. Then 'e took a shaver and shaved parts of his chest and stuck funny lookin' blue suction cups to 'is chest, shoved round metal badges and wet cloth under the strap on the wrists that had also wires connected to it. #2 put on a sleeve on Murdoc's left 'and for blood pressure monitorin' and inserted a catheter into his left. My hands were shakin' real bad but I 'done it.
00:00 – 1:12
#2 then switched on the eqipment, checked if evryfink was in workin' order. That's when Murdoc came to. I was afraid 'e will cause a riot so I 'id myself behind the one-sided mirror. You know like in police offices there's that room where people get interrogated… and the officers stand behind the mirror but can see evryfink? That room was just like that. Except the doctors on the other side of the mirror were observing the condition of their test subject. #1 and #2 noticed he was awake and gave me a syringe to inject into the catheter.
I submitted… I knew it must 'ave been some sedative, that's what I was always given as soon as the nurses thought I'd be too much of a 'assle to deal with. I saw Murdoc looking at me but I doubt if 'e actually saw me. 'e tried lifting his hands, but 'e was tied down; 'e looked around the room but was too weak to scream or try to escape. He must 'ave been drugged before we took him down since 'e didn't even manage to say a word. I could see the sedative start workin'. I could hear it in the change of the bleepin' pattern of the machines, too.
What I was feelin' at that moment? I didn't feel anything, probably... Nor think much of anyfink either. I was called back behind the mirror. #1 and #2 were discussing something among themselves and I couldn't 'elp but stare at Murdoc. You see, I've never seen 'im so bent and 'elpless and weak. I couldn't really believe this was 'appening, it seemed so surreal. 'e would stare at the mirror too, possibly knowin' that there are eyes set upon him. Not that evil kind of stare he would usually have. It was blank and absent of any emotion. I've never seen 'im like that before.
Then I 'eard my name; that is, #1 and #2 were addressing the bloke who's name I had on the badge of my white coat. It took me a while to realize they were talking to me, but I said I didn't 'ave much sleep that night and apologised. I sighed with relief as the two made some professional joke about it. Then they gave me a tray with numbered syringes and told me to administer them in the correct order with such and such intervals. I nodded and went to the bed.
Murdoc looked at me and went pale all of a sudden, I can't fathom why. I put the tray on the stainless steel table with a clank. 'e shook his head, as if saying no, and 'e struggled to speak but couldn't utter a word. I suddenly felt so sorry for 'im and I took 'is 'and in mine.. Sumfink I would get struck for if I did it in any other circumstance. 'is hand was cold. I caressed it for a while and told 'im that there was nothing I could do to 'elp 'im, as if trying to say I'm sorry for what I was about to do. I tell you I can't say how exactly I felt. Like a robot? Maybe so.
1:13-1:39
As I injected the first batch into the catheter Murdoc moaned sumfink like, "Buddy, no". I dunno. I couldn't quite catch what it was. I tilted the monitors of the ECG and other miscellaneous equipment toward the small room where #1 and #2 were, so it was easier to observe. Minutes later I made another injection and went into the room.
The two were closely following the data on the monitors and exchanging commentaries on how fascinating the results seemed to be. I didn't get all the technical mumbo-jumbo they talked about. They made notes and looked at the watches and asked me questions about the patient. His age, weight, height. 'onestly I 'ad to make 'alf of it up. But those questions… They made me fink about Murdoc.
1:40-2:17
After a while I was encouraged to administer the last dose. I came to the table, my head in a 'aze. I closed me mince pies because the memories came suddenly rushin' in. About me and Murdoc. How much pain I've gone through because of 'im. Strikes, punches, embarrassment, ridicule. I couldn't seem to remember a single good memory, can you imagine? Wot if dere were no good memories? Then I got distracted by the bleepin' of the ECG. I 'ave a looked at the coarsely jumpin' line wiv several skipped beats. It were getting more abnormal than I remember.
I took the last syringe and was about to inject it when Murdoc grasped my wrist. He was too weak and very well constrained to do anything. But his touch wasn't violent and it sort of soothed me. Like my existence was finally acknowledged. I remember smilin' at that moment because I felt so loved and comforted. Suddenly Murdoc grew paler than ever. I then realized I was mechanically injecting the contents of the syringe into the catheter… That's when I snapped… Like I was hypnotized before and someone used the trigger to wake me up. I suddenly realized what I was doing.
2:18-4:32
"Buddy, no" Murdoc moaned again. The syringe fell from my 'ands. Within seconds the bleeping became loud and chaotic from every direction. I felt a 'uge migraine coming in and, and I began to back pedal towards the door that led to the boiler. I couldn't… I just couldn't look at 'IM, my eyes were set on the monitors. My own heart was jolting like the lines on the screen. 'e repeated the same phrase over and over again, desperate. I should 'ave saved him. But all I did was shut the bleedin' door behind me and burst into tears. I slumped down, buried me face in me hands… I just wanted to disappear. Then jumped to my feet and looked through the little glass window. 'e was in agony; I could tell by the way 'e struggled. The bleeping echoed in my head and came from behind the door. I started 'itting my head on the wall, I wanted it all to stop, I.. I 'eard the flatline and 'is loud moan one last time. That's… the last fink I remember.I 'ate myself so much. Wot 'ave I done?! Wot 'ave I done… Wot 'ave I done, Muds… Muds, please forgive me.
Long silence. Piteous sobbing.
Nervous flicking of a lighter.
"Stuart, please, this is a non-smoking area. Can I bring you a glass of water instead?"
An extract from the Bethlem Royal Hospital psychiatry report:
"After further investigation it appears that Whittingham Mental Asylum (where Mr. Stuart Pot claimed to be held for 1,5 years and which he had escaped a month ago) has been closed for over 5 years now. None of the mentioned people with whom Mr. Pot has any relations could be contacted. It was decided that he will be held at Bethlem Royal Hospital for further treatment."