Chapter 14
As days went by, Avery conformed to better speed along the process. The place reminded him of every mental asylum he had seen on TV the white walls, the casual attitude from the patients, the offish attention by hard-nosed nurses.
Three times a day they delivered pills to everyone, a different clump every time. He took them only because of the risk of punishment. None of them felt like they had an effect.
The patients would lounge around, play board games, stare out the window, watch videos. There was no one-on-ones, no self-help program, no group meetings, not even Oprah books. He felt like a cow in a farm.
And chow-time was a send-up of some ridiculous prison movie. The tray was shaped like a TV dinner. There was a little turkey, a little mashed potatoes. And in the center was a bowl filled with something that looked like gravy. Little chunks of meat floated in the gray goo. It was way more gravy than anyone could possibly need.
When lunch was over, they wheeled in another group of pills. Avery carried his around for a while, strongly considering if he should take them. No one ever watched him, he could just dump them on the floor somewhere. Kick them under the couch. Unless there were security cameras somewhere.
No, that was paranoid. Or was it? Was it worth the price of insubordination? What would defiance get him? He guessed it would be dealt with pretty seriously, since drugs were the basis of the treatment. He looked around to see if anyone was looking at him.
"Hey, Aves," someone called out. "Avery!"
He looked up from the paper cup and saw a group of four playing poker around the card table, including Sam and Raoul. "You wanna play?"
"Uh..." He approached the table. The pot was a collection of pills red ones, blue ones, yellow tablets, capsules, lozenges, pellets. It would make a pharmacist wet himself. One of the players pulled in his winnings, licking his lips.
"Is this all right? Playing for pills?" Avery asked.
"No one seems to mind," one shrugged. "Besides, not like we have money. It works great."
"Yeah," another said, "Mix 'n match!"
Avery shrugged. The others scooted away to clear him a spot. Raoul peered into Avery's hand. "What do you got?" Avery tilted his cup towards them, they all peered in. "Ooh, you got a good haul this time."
"Yeah," Sam said, "You should be able to play with that easy."
"Let's see." Raoul picked out each pill. "A firecracker, that's worth five. One, two redrums, eight each. A pogo for two. Nice, a shell-shooter, that's worth ten. And a coupla onesies." He organized them in piles according to denomination. "Okay, let's get playing. What's your game?"
"Uh, I don't know a lot about poker. I know the basics. Five-card stud."
"Oh, man," the one next to him said as he rubbed his forehead. "Never admit that you don't know what you're doing. That's the first rule of poker. That's like telling St. Peter you don't know much about heaven."
Raoul said, "S'all right. It's not like this is Maverick or anything. We just play for fun. Okay, guys, no one bluff for at least thirty minutes. Give the poor guy a chance to build up his pot."
"Pfft, I didn't want to play no rookie game," Sam said.
Avery piped up, "Well, it's not like I'm terrible at card games. I just haven't played a lot."
"You know the basics though right? Royal flush? Straight?"
"Yeah."
"You'll do fine. Ante is one."
Avery plopped a blue 'onesie' into the pile. They played some easy poker. Five card stud and draw, mostly. Avery played well, relying on the luck of the cards. He managed to double his initial holdings when the lights started flickering on and off, as if there were a thunderstorm.
"What was that?" Avery said, looking alert and scared.
"Man, don't you know?" Sam said.
"Hey, he's new. Give him a break," Raoul said.
"Relax, it's just treatment for D-Ward," one named Carlos said.
"What's D-Ward?" Avery asked.
"One level up. You can guess what the 'D' stands for," Raoul said.
Avery gave him a blank look.
"Disturbed," Raoul said.
"Oh. I guess that's for the ones really bad off?" Avery asked.
"Yeah. We're nothing compared to the psychos up there. They got sickness they don't have names for."
"Then what do we have?" Avery asked.
"Me? Nothing. Totally sane. Right, Carlos?"
"Yep, perfectly sane, like me. And you too, right, Arthur?"
"Right, I'm sane. No reason to be here. You're sane too, right Aves?"
"Sure. Just as sane as you, I guess." Avery tried to play their game, but felt awkward.
Sam continued, "So, yeah, D-Ward gets most of the hardcore treatments. Then they come back here, to learn how to interact with people again."
"Isolation within isolation?" Avery questioned. "Do people come in like that and then get downgraded... or?"
"Oh, every once in a while, one of us gets to experience D-Ward. I guess it's sort of half-treatment, half-punishment."
"Yeah, but believe me, you do not want to go there. No one who's gone there acts the same for weeks. Lost lots of good poker buddies that way."
"Yeah, most people just want to watch TV when they come back," Arthur said.
"Really?" Avery said.
"Yeah, that's why I say behave and you'll be fine," Raoul said.
Sam said, "Yeah, this place has really revolutionary methods. It's the only place that uses an entirely drug-based treatment. It's the best place I've been at, really," Sam said.
"Yeah, no more blathering to a therapist about your family or kids who were mean to you or any of that bullshit. No monthly visits you gotta clear your schedule for, talking to someone who doesn't care, who's just in it for the money."
"And then what do you tell people at work? I gotta take the day off to see my shrink? I'm having an off day, before I kill everyone?" Carlos popped a blue pill from his winnings into his mouth. "Here you learn to interact with people in a controlled environment, no strange variables. That's what I call integrating into society. You don't have to worry about who's better than who, you're all wearing numbers. And the drugs rebalance your chemicals. It doesn't matter which one I take, they're all good."
"I think they're all the same drug, they just change up the forms for variety," Raoul said.
"Yeah, but what is the drug?" Avery asked.
They looked at each other. "I don't know," Sam said.
"Doesn't matter. I still feel better," Arthur said, "Honestly, I can't tell the difference from when I entered and now. But I feel a lot better about myself than I did out there. Because people here aren't jerks."
"How successful is it?" Avery asked.
"What do you mean?" Raoul asked.
"How successful is the program? How long does it take people to get out of here?"
"Uh, well... let's see... um," Raoul looked around the room, as if looking for ideas or reminders. "There's... ooh, I know, there was Rick?"
"Who?" Arthur said.
"Rick, the guy with the mustache?"
"He died. He had a heart attack." Avery grimaced, until Sam added, "He was seventy-two."
"What about... uh, McClanahan?" Carlos asked.
"Heeeeee...," Arthur thought, "He was in D-Ward, last I heard."
"Oh. Craig?"
"I'm not sure what happened to him. I think he just doesn't come around any more."
"Is there anyone else we don't see anymore? I'm trying to think."
"Oh, Jackson. I think Jackson's left."
"Yeah, he did get out. Jackson, I remember, he was telling us about this apartment he was getting. So yeah, there was Jackson," Sam nodded.
Avery was not impressed. "So in all the time you've been here, you only remember one person getting out?"
The four card-players looked at each other, dejected, realizing the truth.
A nurse came up behind them and put a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "The reason is because the treatment is long-term. For you, it has just begun. We have top doctors working at this facility. People do get better. Everyone receives the proper care. You usually don't hear about graduates of the program because they are transferred to other facilities. This is only an initial treatment area."
"So where do people go from here?" Avery asked.
"Since it's behavior-based learning, they go to different places, depending on what the doctors diagnose. Don't get discouraged because a patient forgot to say goodbye. As soon as you all graduate the program, you'll likely see them again."
"The doctors? I haven't seen any doctors since my first day. I thought it was all drug-based," Avery said.
"Right. That's part of the genius of the program. Unlike orientation to the individual, this is a cheaper, mass-produced treatment. Everyone gets the same medicine, everyone gets the same results."
"But that's only if everyone's got the same thing."
"It's better for the common good. No unknown variables."
"How is that better? Shouldn't the treatment be oriented to the individual? We're all different."
The nurse smirked. "How many polar bears do you need to study to find out about polar bear behavior? All of them? No, you just study a few. We've studied a few humans with social disorders, found out what works, and made a cost-efficient treatment program based on that. Think about other state-run programs, ones that treat the patient for a month or two then dump him or her back on the street when the money runs out. Is that the kind of world you want to live in?" She paused for an answer, despite the question's rhetorical nature. "Our facility is isolated for exactly that reason, and every ward is isolated to prevent contamination."
"Contamination?" Avery said, "These are mental diseases, not physical. We don't need to be isolated, we need to be integrated. Society is out there." Avery pointed to the window.
"Both are sicknesses, and both affect people. That is the plan you were signed for. The more you resist treatment, the longer it will take. Otherwise, you'll find you're going to be here a very long time." The nurse waited for Avery to respond. When he didn't, she walked away.
The five poker players looked around at each other. Avery didn't know what they all were thinking, since they were veterans, but he felt a little bit his own hope for getting out quickly disappear.
"Well, want another deal?" Raoul said.
"Yeah, sure, why not," the others muttered. Everyone ante'd in their chip, while Avery ate one of his.
"Mr. Price, here's your medication," the nurse said.
Avery stirred. He couldn't have gone to bed that long ago. "What? What is it?"
"Your medication, sir." She offered him a paper cup of pills.
Avery blinked his bleary eyes. A dark shape stood in front of him. "What? Why am I getting medication?"
"Just take it."
"But it's not time..."
She gave him a look.
He said, "Isn't it dangerous to give too many pills? Isn't there any worry of an overdose?"
"No, just take them." She shoved the two cups in his face. Avery swallowed the collection and the water. It kept her happy, and it wasn't as if they made him feel any different.
The nurse took back the two cups and left. Avery stayed upright a little longer. For being a drug-based treatment, there sure didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the medication. They shoved it at you even if you didn't need it, they let patients hoard pills, taking them whenever they wanted. And no one had an actual prescription.
And through it all, he hadn't felt any change in either his behavior or his biology. Still the same old melancholy Avery. How the hell many of these things had he taken since he'd been here? The time was starting to blur together, and now he was no longer sure of how many days he had been here. Five? Six? Was it a matter of days, or weeks?
If it was weeks, it couldn't have been too many. But it was probably long enough to form a dependence on these drugs. So, how was he supposed to maintain sanity once he got out? Would he need to have a prescription all his life? Was he a junkie? Was he afraid of losing who he was? Sometimes, he just took one because he was bored. But they weren't helping to improve his situation.
And if the drugs weren't working on him, how was he supposed to prove that he was sane and get out? No one was coming to talk to him, and he didn't express himself much. How would they know if he was making progress? How did they measure? Would they ever find out? Did anyone know he was here? In this hell?
Then the screaming started. It was muffled, coming from somewhere else. Avery stopped breathing for a moment, and listened. The screams were low and sounded far away. Below him, maybe? He moved his head around a bit, but couldn't place the location. Were those the screams of people getting electric needles?
Avery pulled his pillow over his head, thinking real mental patients strapped to the bed, as fluids were jabbed into them. He hated this place. The days were tedium and the nights were torture. Everything piled on one thing at a time.
No matter how hard he pushed the pillow in, he could still hear a little bit. And the little bit he could hear was all he could hear. Shadows shrouded him as he turned over.
Avery didn't get much sleep that night, and awoke in a foul mood. He felt like a porcupine with quills spread. He sat on the couch and diffused his internal bomb by spending time away from others. Most of the day he watched TV, but everything he saw irritated him, from the hurried commercials to the perky newscasters to the Christian evangelicals spouting 'the truth'.
There were three other people watching TV with him, two on the couch to his left and one to his right who was bouncing on the cushion like he was on a sugar high, mumbling "out of pills". His name was Simon a nervous, spastic, scrawny guy. He looked like he was going through withdrawal.
Avery crossed his arms and tried to ignore him as he watched TV. He felt fine. Maybe they only affected certain people.
Simon got up and started wandering around the couch, muttering to himself. He went up to someone leaning against the pillar and said, "Do you have any pills?" He was ignored.
Undaunted, Simon moved on to another person who refused to give him any. Then the man went back to the couch, having exhausted the two closest candidates for a quick fix.
After twenty seconds, he began jumping up and down on the couch like a kid who had to pee. "Come on..." he whined. "When's it gonna get here? It's late. Grrr..." He leapt up and sat on the couch right next to Avery. "Hey, hey, buddy, you've got some pills right? Eh?" He smelled like patchouli.
"No, I don't have any," Avery lied to get him to go away.
"Come on. I lost all mine. I don't know if they're gonna give me anymore."
"Of course they'll give you more. They always do."
"So where are they? Come on, just one to tide me over. Just one. Just something small. I need something. What do you need? What do you think?" he came up close to Avery's nose.
"Dude, you're, like, an inch away from my face."
"Grr... whatever." he waved his hand and pouted on the other side of the couch. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot as he pretended to watch the TV. "Ah," he grunted. "I hate this show."
They were watching the news. Avery rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. The man continued. "Turn the channel. I want to watch the Barnaby Fun show."
"There ain't no cartoons on," said the at Avery's left. "It's six thirty at night."
"Barnaby Fun show. Barnaby Fun show!" He took a throw pillow from the couch and clung to it. "Come on. Change the channel."
"Dude, just because you don't have your pills yet is no reason to spaz," Avery said.
"Oh, you shut up. You did this to me. You wouldn't let me take any of your pills!"
Avery considered what would happen if this man became violent. He tried to remain still, as if he would blend into the background.
"You don't know the struggle, man," Simon said, "Where are the goddamn pills!" He shouted this last line to the ceiling. There were a few murmurs from the crowd, but most were content to wait for their share.
However, Simon wasn't. He threw his pillow across the room, which knocked over a plant. Then he sidled up and reached in Avery's pocket, digging around. "Give me some!"
Avery flushed red with embarrassment at this sexual assault. He grabbed the man's sweaty wrist and yanked it out. "Hey, man, quit it. I told you I don't have any."
"Nurse!" someone shouted. Immediately, one came into the lounge. Two orderlies followed, holding telescoping wands. Avery scooted away and joined the others who were collecting behind him like a typical mob of onlookers.
The orderlies disappeared behind the couch. Each took an arm and dragged Simon up. He looked up at them with puppy dog eyes.
"No, no, you can't take me yet. I haven't gotten my pills. Please, please don't take me yet." His upper body stayed motionless, but he kicked as if he were doing the backstroke. They took him out of the lounge and down a corner.
"What's going to happen to him?" Avery asked, as he thought of the screams last night.
"Electric needles," someone said.
"Dude, shut up," another patient smacked him on the chest. "They'll probably swaddle him. They do that when you're hyper."
"Swaddle him?" Avery asked.
"It's where they wrap you up in sheets real tight so you don't move. It's supposed to calm you down."
"And it makes you look like a burrito," someone added.
"And when you're helpless, they stick you with electric needles," Sam added.
"Look," he shook his finger, "You mention one more thing about the goddamn electric needles... " Avery craned his neck behind him to see what was going on.
That was why he didn't see Simon running back down the corridor, with the two orderlies running behind him.
He made a revving noise and tackled Avery. The two of them missiled to the ground, knocking away the others behind him like bowling pins.
Avery screamed girlishly and tried to push the guy off.
"Jesus, get off me." Avery had never been in a fight before, so he didn't know how to grab him and push him off. Simon moved around too much. He straddled Avery and slammed him against the floor.
"How... dare... you..." he throttled Avery. "You got me in trouble," he screamed in a weird, squeaky voice. Avery thought of how he might be choked, gouged in the eyes. He was certain he was going to lose something. Simon said, "You got me in trouble, you sonova-"
They rolled end over end until the orderlies yanked Simon off so hard, Avery was surprised his shoulders weren't ripped off his sockets. The nurse barked orders to "stop them, hold him".
Simon kicked his legs out and caught Avery in the jawbone. He fell into the other orderly as the first pinned Simon's arms down and carried him off like a stuffed toy. Avery recovered and struggled to his fit. The orderly still held on.
"Hey, hey," Avery called out. "I'm okay. Let me go." The orderly wrapped his arms around Avery's torso. "Hey, stop."
The nurse pointed to him and said, "D-Ward."
When Avery heard this, he wrenched away, but to no avail. "No, I wasn't even fighting. I wasn't fighting him."
"Sedate him. He's raving."
"No! Stop. He attacked me. I didn't do anything." He didn't see the orderly reach into his pocket and pull out a small syringe. "Why do you have to solve everything wiiiiiiith druuuuu..."