Interlude: Model Citizen
or
A Failure To Communicate
Writer's Note: My thanks to Oz (Not the land, the prison), 'n3cro' for his stories helping flesh my own out some (if he ever discovers it), and Zia, who actually made this chapter remotely credible.
"We are all born mad. Some remain so."
-Samuel Beckett
In the beginning, there was God. Or so some people would say. But let us say there was.
There was God, and nothing else. A few million centuries pass, and God grows lonely. God wants someone to talk to.
So he makes man, a creature in his own image, another, for the sake of conversation. But to make something to converse with, he had to make it talk. And to make something that with one could hold a proper conversation, he had to give us free will. What can one talk about, when only one decides the topics?
And so the beginning was the Word, of God, with God, all God. Or so it seems. For it seems that man got the wrong idea. They would rather not speak with their creator, but rather themselves.
So we came into existence finding people to talk to, and our own ways to do it.
While God found himself, still as lonely as ever.
Once upon a time, a man wrote of a place where mad people lived, lorded over by a cruel queen.
And later, another man wrote of another place where mad people supposedly resided, yet in reality, it seemed like the madness lay more within those running the place rather then the patients of it. But the place still had its cruel queen, a tyrant turning a healing and protective atmosphere into an oppressive, suffocating fiefdom.
This place is not like that…for the most part.
But in this second place, it was said that the cruel queen had hired three hands to aid her in her despotism, and that she chose these three men solely based on their capacity to hate.
That is not the case here…somewhat.
In the halls of the Edge City Asylum, most who walked them with freedom and clarity brought those aspects to their vision. It was not like the terrible places the first one could be and the second was.
But nothing is perfect.
And every batch of apples has a few rotten ones.
And so we found these two men walking down the dark hallways of this early morning. One was white, one was black, though they both wore the same dark blue uniforms (a recent change, as the previous white ones had proven to bring in cleaning bills that were too high) and had their (brown and dark brown) hair cut in the same short semi-buzzcuts to ensure no one could pull it. They seemed relatively average in appearance, neither drop dead handsome nor ugly.
But the surface does not always speak the truth…
Their names were Tyler Armand and Alfonso Lane, and on this morning Tyler carried a tray with marked vials of pills, the empty vials on the sides of the tray and notes underneath the still-full ones (a few stained with the remains of a spilled coffee) while Alfonso took a ring of keys off his belt, jingling them as he inserted them into the door of a room marked 13. Whatever their reasons, Tyler and Alfonso were not nice men, and they had not taken the jobs of MHA (Mental Health and Addiction) workers for the benefit of mankind. It might have been better if it was just a paycheck to them, but they did not possess even that excusable callousness. Their dysfunctions ran deeper, in the streams that fed bullies who picked on the weak and the helpless. They were not monsters…but they were not good men either, and hence more then a few patients in the hospital had come to fear them.
Perhaps that was why they had been transferred down to this floor with the minimum-security wards: it was easier to detect abuse on certain levels then others. If that was the case, neither realized it. It was their first morning on this floor, and for the moment neither had been given a real chance to start things over again.
As Alfonso finished unlocking the door and opened it as Tyler walked into room 13.
The number should have been an omen.
Though that was again lost on the two: to them, it definitely smelled better then some of the other rooms, and was relatively neat for the few possessions it had: a bed, a closet, and a small plastic chair in the corner…in which sat the occupant of the room.
Clad in the usual gray sweats and shirt the patients wore, the occupant of room 13, his skin dull from lack of sun and his posture slumped over in his chair, would seem like any other patient…until you saw his hair. Once a perfect white and gravity defying, it was now dull and limp, casting over the patient's eyes and hiding his face as he sat in the chair, leaning on his arms as he rested them on his upper legs, as if intently studying the ground.
Since Tyler's hands were full, Alfonso knocked on the door to get the patient's attention.
"Pill time nutto." Tyler said, and even if he'd left out the impertinence from the last word his tone would have said it all.
As Noel Collins looked up at the words, his eyes not showing dull nescience but low surprise, and beneath that, clarity.
"…you must be mistaken. I'm not on any medication." Noel said calmly.
"Nope, it says your name right here." Tyler said, very briefly looked at the stained paper that had the room number on it.
"Then I suggest you double check it. I don't need any pills."
"Well…" Alphonse said, as he checked the note. "Dr. Jones thinks you do, and I'm not one to argue with the docs."
"I am not being treated by Doctor Jones. My physician is Dr. Sidlakus. You're making an error. I am not taking any pills." Noel replied.
Tyler sneered at the patient, and Noel narrowed his eyes.
"Just check the note CLOSELY. Is it THAT hard?" Noel asked.
"I DID." Alphonse growled back, in a tone that indicated to Noel that not only had he NOT done that, he really didn't care. He cared more about the fact that Noel was being condescending to him. "I don't need a nutjob telling me how to read. Just take the damn pills and you can talk to Dr. Jones later."
"Are you aware that if you give me medication I don't need, it could prove fatal?" Noel intoned.
Alphonse rolled his eyes.
"If the medication was at a dosage that could prove fatal, you'd have to be in the infirmary and be in a life threatening situation that the medication would relieve, not make worse. Considering that it's only TWO, the doctors would be sure they don't react badly to begin with. So cut this shit and just take the pills."
"So you can think. You just choose not to." Noel said quietly. "A tragedy I am all too familiar with."
"Look asshole, I don't care how clever you think you are, you're either going to take the pills, or there will be consequences." Tyler growled, as he handed the tray off to Alphonse and reached into his pocket: he might not have been allowed to carry weapons like security but reading a book had given him the idea of carrying a roll of quarters: it helped deal with problems quite well, problems being a relative term to Tyler.
"I'm not on any pills." Noel replied.
"Look loony, here's how the world works. You're LOCKED UP HERE, because you're INSANE. We're not, and so we make the decisions. Now take the pills like a GOOD BOY." Tyler said, pulling out the roll of quarters.
Noel looked at it.
"…I am not a good boy." Noel said, as he looked up at them. "And it seems that will be very bad for you."
It took several seconds for the security to hear the racket down the hallway, but they were quick on their feet when they did, running to the source of the noise, a general fracas that quickly flowed into a yelling voice.
"SEE? These pills are labeled for ALLEN OSSEN. My name is ALEX OZ. You just glanced at the paper and assumed you knew better, you pieces of shit! You think you can…!"
And that was where the security came in, bursting into the room to find Noel holding Tyler by the throat with one hand and shoving a coffee-stained piece of paper in his face with the other. Tyler looked a bit too out of it to understand what Noel was doing; his partner Alphonse was lying groaning on the floor, amidst the remains of scattered pills and quarters.
Noel might have lost his mind, but he hadn't lost his fighting skills.
Or his reflexes, for as security barged in Noel twisted Tyler around and got behind him, even as he dropped the paper and snatched up the keys Alphonse had used to enter the room, sliding one between his pointer and middle finger and pressing it against the side of Tyler's throat.
"STOP!" Noel ordered. "I'LL KILL HIM!"
The security did stop, if only in surprise, as Noel backed up a bit, dragging Tyler with him.
"Anyone takes another step into this room I punch as big a hole in his carotid artery as I can manage and he bleeds out in two minutes max. BACK OFF. NOW." Noel snarled.
"…….Sir, we can't legally leave. Just calm down, we don't want to hurt you…" One of the security officers said.
"Fetch Dr. Sidlakus, if you haven't started already. Best be quick. I'm in a BAD mood." Noel said, pressing the key in deeper.
"Come on buddy, don't do something you'll regret…"
"I've run out of room in my heart for regrets." Noel replied bitterly.
It did not take long for the mentioned Dr. Sidlakus to appear: he was an older man, in his sixties at least, small and thin with short gray hair on his head. But he had a face that was kind enough, as he stepped through the security to where Noel was still standing with his hostage.
"I suppose it's safe to assume you're not feeling all that great, Alex." Dr. Sidlakus said, as he motioned for the guards and other MHA's to back up.
"I'll forgive you for not being omniscient Dr. Sid, but your hiring policies need work." Noel replied.
"I'm not in charge of human resources, unfortunately. What's wrong with these two?"
"Check the paper on the floor. Is my name on ANY part of it?" Noel replied.
His age made the task somewhat difficult, but Dr. Sidlakus did bend down and pick up the note, peering at it with some difficulty. "It's hard to say with this…coffee on it."
"Well then, am I on any medication? In terms of a daily dose type?"
"None that I've prescribed." Dr. Sidlakus said, still looking at the note. "And certainly none prescribed by Dr. Jones. She only treats the severely schizophrenic around here after all."
"That's what I told them. But they wouldn't listen. They insisted they were right on the basis of their position. They reacted to my points with scorn and mockery, and when I didn't back down, outright aggression. I will NOT tolerate being bullied, especially by those who think a little power gives them the right to act like this!" Noel snapped. "I want them both fired. If you're smart, you'll see they're fired. I can look after myself when I'm lucid, Doctor. I'd hate to think what these pieces of shit are doing to those who can't fight back."
"Unfortunately, I don't have that power, Alex. I can recommend it, and considering the severity of the slip up, they'll at least be suspended, but I can't promise something I may not be able to do." Dr. Sidlakus said. "Just because I have some power does not mean it extends to everything as it is with them. The difference between me and them and that I'm aware of my limitations. They fail to realize that because they are supposedly mentally balanced while patients are not, that does not mean they are any more intelligent or morally stable. I would be overstepping that boundary if I tried anything beyond a recommendation, the same way you're overstepping a boundary if you try to hurt them just because you're upset. They messed up and you claim they have a bad attitude. Is that really worth trying to kill them?"
"I really wonder." Noel said. "But one thing I DO know is that I don't care to be restrained, drugged to the gills, and thrown in a room trussed up like a turkey because of other people." Noel said, with the indication that was the whole point of this song and dance: to avoid THAT song and dance.
"Alex, I don't want that either, but you're threatening to slice someone's throat open with a key. Considering that the security officers WILL detain you if you're a threat to yourself or others, the only way to ensure that you aren't treated that way is to let him go and to let the medical team take them to the infirmary for an evaluation. I've already told the guards to let me speak with you before they take action, so don't worry about a sneak attack or something low. Besides, that would undermine your progress and hinder any other work we do here. So what do you say? We can continue the conversation without the unpleasantries and eavesdropping."
Noel looked at his doctor, and he sighed.
"I don't like hurting people." Noel said as he took the key away from Tyler's throat and tossed it on the ground before Dr. Sidlakus. "But circumstances have made me very, VERY good at it. That's all I ask for…really…isn't it…" Noel said, sounding much more like he was asking himself then anyone else in the room.
The guards moved into the room, retrieving a groaning Tyler and Alphonse, tense in case Noel tried something, but the urge to fight had drained out of Noel, as he sat down and held his forehead in his hands.
"I spent all the time away relieving nightmares…and even when I wake they follow me…" He murmured to himself.
"Sometimes we can't escape our nightmares." Dr. Sidlakus said. "The only way to deal with them is to accept them."
"If you only knew…" Noel said cryptically. "If you only knew…"
Writing.
Carved in crude stone, metal, wood. A man's verbal and mental messages immortalized, or at least preserved for a time. No more need to pass stories and wisdom from one person to the next, one could place one's idea in a so-called indestructible form, in theory anyway, preserving the originals and saving them from alteration, from deviation.
Perhaps that was the thought. Words were malleable, but writing was, in some cases literally, cast in stone.
Yet today, how we look at an event written from seven different perspectives and wonder which one this planet saw, we can only wonder, how this technique made to make record keeping simple, made everything so damn complicated.
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 2nd, 200X
From Dr. Luke SidlakusFor someone who is so open in our discussions, I find it strange how very little I actually know about Mr. Oz. I am certain that is a pseudonym, but it was the name he was signed in under and responds to, so that is how I will address him until there is a change in the matter.
The exact circumstances of his arrival are still strange to me: he arrived when I was on a leave of absence and when I returned my first meeting with him was accompanied by Dr. Hastings who was carrying various papers: it seemed that if things had gone a different way, I would have had to sign them. However, that did not seem to be the case, and I was assigned to his treatment. Mr. Oz was catatonic at the time and had virtually no response to stimuli. He has improved since then, but he still has periods of severe disassociation, states of mind that are coupled with insomnia. When he is lucid, he suffers severe depression. Depression is usually coupled with oversleeping, but in his case it's taken to an extreme with going to bed exceptionally early and waking late in the day, sometimes with naps in between. I offer antidepressants to curb these symptoms at each session, but he consistently refuses to take any medication, even as the symptoms worsen.
Aside from that, Mr. Oz, until the incident today, did not seem to have any difficulties: when lucid, he was generally calm, collected, and polite, though he does not associate much with the other patients and doctors aside from myself. When he is not sleeping he spends most of his time in a corner of the common rooms observing the events, whatever they may be. I believe it may be related to his past life, which he has only given oblique details of. One aspect I have gathered is while he seems to hold deep affections of a natural sense for his mother, it is mirrored by an intense antipathy towards his father, whose every aspect Oz seems to despise. I believe this factor plays a role in his current illness, though I have yet to determine just how. It matches details of depersonalization disorder though: Mr. Oz seems to lack a solid identity, and seems to spend much of our sessions not so much speaking with me as probing himself. Abuse of himself or his mother is a possibility, but until I am able to glean more firm knowledge it is mere speculation.
A final strange note: Mr. Oz refuses to have any contact with the outside world. He refuses to read newspapers, watch television, and will even leave the room to avoid hearing details of recent actions that have occurred in the city and the world beyond. The only theory I have so far as to Mr. Oz's behavior is that he is attempting to remove himself from the world around him. He clearly wants no part in it and does his best to avoid taking part in anything involving other people. I've managed to establish a connection between him and myself for our sessions, but I have to be careful to avoid severing that trust.
I hope to speak to him later this day: agitation tends to cause Mr. Oz to regress into a comatose state shortly afterward. I will do my best to have a session with him before, and if, it does.
"You know how you can supposedly tell if you're insane? If you can question if you're insane." Noel said quietly.
Dr. Sidlakus looked at his patient, sitting in one of the chairs in his small office, away from the windows and near Sidlakus' wooden desk. He seemed to be studying the bookcase with encyclopedias and various other tomes that was on the other end of the room, but in reality his sight was turned inward: he was naval gazing once more.
"True." Dr. Sidlakus replied. "But it also depends on someone's definition of insanity. I recall once visiting the Joker when a colleague invited me to Arkham as an observer. The Joker introduced himself as the most insane person in the asylum, which made him the most sane person in the world. He convinced me that treating criminals was not my ambition. So, what would your definition be?"
"…thinking I was making a difference." Noel said quietly.
"If I may ask, in what?"
"…did your father serve in the war?"
Dr. Sidlakus was silent for a moment, which caused Noel to look up at him.
"My father fought for Germany. My mother heard of the camps through her meeting with other officer's wives. She had more loyalty to religion then country, and we fled to America as refugees. She changed our names to erase our past, and we started over."
"…Oh." Noel said. "…I can relate. I did something similar. Except I took it another step…and in that…"
"Starting a new life is never easy. I remember that I barely knew any English and when our neighbors learned we were from Germany, I was not allowed to attend school. My mother had to learn English from the priest at a church, and I learned it from her." Dr. Sidlakus said. "People can be cruel in their prejudices."
"At least their cruelties are simple." Noel said.
"Not always. I may not have been allowed to attend school and I was teased by other children for my dress and accent, but Japanese were imprisoned in camps for years in California, regardless of their citizenship status. Because I was white, I was trustworthier, even though I was a first generation immigrant from the country that started the war. As prejudices build and become numerous, cruelties become more creative and horrible."
"I know. I fought the Red Panzer. 60 years gone and people…" Noel said, before realizing he had made a slip and clammed up.
"Red Panzer? That must have been interesting."
"He was trying to make a race-specific virus to carry out 'a long needed thinning of the herd'. I should have shoved him in an oven."
Noel realized he'd blurted out stuff again and looked cross at the fact, crossing his arms and turning away from Dr. Sidlakus.
Strangely, the doctor chuckled.
"So what DID you do?"
"Not enough. It doesn't matter. There's been four of them." Noel said. "It ties into what I said about insanity. Only the truly insane never question if they're insane. They have no doubts at all. If you question if you're insane, you have to be sane in the first place."
"Do you question it?"
"Daily. Hourly. It's the very core of what I tried. Madness. Madness vs madness." Noel said. "…I assume you heard of the Final Night."
"Of course."
"…why did a bunch of stupid kids go fight a god? What were they thinking? W…they should have all died out there on the sand. Sometimes I think they survived just so life could heap more shit on them." Noel said. "…the man…the thing that did it…he believed, without a doubt, that it was the right thing to do. He hated the world that much."
"Maybe he loved it that much."
Noel gave his doctor a withering glare.
"You weren't there."
"Well the man was obviously insane. Chances are he interpreted his actions as a display of his appreciation of the world, by preserving what he thought was the best part of it. Similar to the thought pattern of the Red Panzer."
Noel was silent for a few seconds.
"I was never going to hurt that asshole, you know." Noel said.
"I know, but the guards didn't, and if I did anything they considered risky, not only would they have jumped you, but I would no longer be able to treat you."
"…I could have taken them. Once. Easily." Noel murmured.
"Had you, you would have been relocated to maximum security and been pumped full of tranquilizers."
"It's irrelevant. What made me special now is gone…I abused its gift and it left me. I can't feel it any more. I wonder if I ever will." Noel said, as he stared at his hands. "Maybe it was never there to begin with. Maybe it was always all in my head. Even this."
"Talents don't just disappear. It's part of you. Perhaps you feel you can't access it because of the stress you're under."
"…it doesn't matter…when I should have served it best…I fell for it…I fell…I wanted to…damn…damn, I wanted to…" Noel drifted off, staring off in the distance at something only he could see.
"Mr. Oz? Are you there? Mr. Oz?" Dr. Sidlakus said, as he snapped his fingers a few times. Noel did not reply.
The doctor sighed and pressed a button, summoning two MHA's to his office.
"Please take him back to his room, we're done for the day."
While Noel didn't dead weight the two men, they still had some difficulty removing him from his chair and taking him out.
"He weighs a ton." One of them commented.
"If it's so difficult for you, I can call additional help."
"We got it, but geez, what were they feeding this guy?" The MHA said as he and his partner took Noel away.
"Glass and air. Vitriol and sting." Noel suddenly murmured, and then went quiet again.
"…what?" One of the MHA's said. "You have any idea what that means, doc?"
"I'm not sure myself." Dr. Sidlakus replied as he wrote it down before he forgot. "Please make a note of anything else he might say while you take him back, please."
But Noel had no more comments, cryptic or otherwise, for the MHA's or anyone. They left him on his bed, staring dully at the ceiling.
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 3rd, 200X
From Dr. Luke Sidlakus
My session with Mr. Oz confirms my theory: he enters depersonalization states to escape reality. The symptoms often include a dissociated state that causes the patient to feel separated from reality, as if in a dream or watching a movie. His feelings of worthlessness and apathy are his motives for entering these states. However, I have not yet deduced why Mr. Oz suffers from such severe depression. I can only surmise that he feels guilty for some failure he committed in the recent past, but he is exceedingly vague. I used some of my own history to probe for reactions, and I've found that he feels more connected when we speak of similar experiences. Prejudice and the flaws of humanity are at the forefront of his mind, so I'll continue to speak about them with him until I can gleam more details.
Unfortunately, for now, Mr. Oz has returned to one of his depersonalization states. It should last only a few days like the others. I'll use the time to analyze the recording of our session and plan the topics for the next session.
One last note: Mr. Oz surprised me by actually speaking clearly while already in his fugue. "Glass and air, vitriol and sting." I'm not sure of the meaning at the moment, but I will research it. Perhaps the meaning will become clear in future sessions.
I'm unsure if these sessions will benefit Mr. Oz since his condition consistently worsens each time we begin to make progress. If nothing else, his case will be a good study for my research papers. I can only hope that he continues to trust me; without that trust, there is nothing I can do for him.
The printing press.
Before, books were rare, given only to the special, due to the extreme effort it was to reproduce them, But Guttenberg changed all that, allowing mass production. The Bible became written in vernacular, rather then classic Latin. Wisdom became a tool that could be obtained by the masses, rather then hoarded by the so-called elites of society.
Yet if we took Guttenberg to a modern day news stand and showed him how he paved the way for such great things like Juggs and High Times and Soldier of Fortune, one has to wonder. Did he open a world of marvels…or find a way to sell the poison in an easily bottled form?
Daniel Owens was surprised that the guy didn't creep him out.
The behavior of mental facility patients, by their very nature, tended to be unsettling. You had paranoid schizophrenics having conversations with people who weren't there, manic-depressives going from zero to redline and back to zero in the space of ten seconds, and the neurotics who thought they were in a palace and each activity was their nightly entertainment. And they were just the rank and file: if you were 'lucky' you got 'characters', people who were not only troubled in some way but unique in their state, for better or for worse. There was Hector Gray, who insisted he was Plato, but had no idea who Plato was and would produce random babbling and mishmashes of overheard info as his 'philosophy'. Then there was Dianne Leah, who thought the fascist regime in North Korea hid microscopic bugs in the water and would not drink it (fortunately she did not seem to grasp that water made up a good part of all other liquids) or worse, bathe in it, which had resulted in a few unpleasant sessions when she grew so rank it was better to put up with her screaming and forcibly clean her than deal with her odor. Then there was Cindy Jessick, a small pixie-like girl and a recovering heroin addict who seemed to be less in the asylum for her drug problem and more so for the fact that she had a mean streak ten miles wide (she was not inherently sadistic, but if given a reason Daniel had never seen someone who could act as nasty as she could) and a mouth that trucker and sailors would stand back and look stunned at: she tended to have a worker watching her virtually all the time. Then there was Anthony Somethingorother, a whiny mama's boy who had once tried to get attention by committing suicide…by trying to strangle himself to death. And ignoring the fact he couldn't do such a thing by continuing to try and do so over and over nearly eight times. It would have almost been comical if it wasn't so sad.
And now there was this guy, with his weird white hair (could blondes go that high up the color spectrum?). Daniel had been there when he had been brought in, and he'd been witness to his quirk more then once. He always did the same thing whenever he came into the common room: he went to a corner and watched. Sometimes he took a chair, sometimes he stood (he was sitting on a stool today), but it was always the same corner, always the same behavior. If any patient approached him, he would be calm but generally closed off, sometimes dismissive and sometimes unresponsive. According to the chart his name was Alexander Oz, and he suffered from DDNOS (Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) as well as depression. Depression, Daniel wasn't sure of, but he didn't seem much out of it, the way he watched the room. Almost like he was wondering what him being there meant. Not why was he there, but WHY was he there?
And then Daniel got another question, as Cindy was suddenly approaching him. Daniel had no idea if they'd met or spoken before, and if either possibility warranted alarm. Cindy, as mentioned, was 1 on 1 virtually all of the time, but her current watcher seemed AWOL at the moment…
"Hey, got a butt?" Cindy asked Noel. Noel looked over at the small woman.
"…sorry, I don't smoke." Noel said, and went back to watching the room.
"Your loss man." Cindy said. But she did not go away. Instead, she pulled up another stool and sat down next to Noel, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "So what are you man, our guardian angel?"
"…pardon?"
"You're always fucking here, looking at us like we're under your fucking divine protection. Even the MHA's don't fucking keep as close an eye on us as you fucking do. What's your deal? You a fucking control freak?"
"…no…I'm just…" Noel said, and went quiet.
"Hello? Anyone home?" Cindy asked, as she poked Noel a few times. Daniel got ready to act if necessary: he'd heard what Mr. Oz had done a few days ago.
"I wonder." Noel replied.
"Can you give a straight answer for fucking ANYTHING?"
"You've seen the parts of the world that end in places like this, miss. How often are straight answers to be found? I suggest your extensive use of profanity is one of the answers to the quest for answers."
"…..shit man that's fucking DEEP."
"No, if it was deep, it would help somebody." Noel said. "…I'd like to be alone please."
Cindy got a sour look on her face, but she listened, getting up and heading off.
For a few minutes.
Then she returned and grabbed Noel by the arm.
"You're off duty. We need someone to play Spades. You're elected." Cindy said, as she tried to drag Noel out of his corner.
"Huh?"
"Come on, you clearly speeke da fuckee English well, you should be able to comprehend a simple card game. Unless you're some kind of fucking idiot savant." Cindy said, as she pulled Noel out of his corner. Daniel went on alert, as did Cindy's returned watcher (whose name escaped Daniel) and another MHA across the room in case Alexander reacted badly to this (admitted) intrusion of his personal space.
"…no…just an idiot…" Noel murmured to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing…" Noel said as he let himself be dragged to a table and sat down to play Spades, a game similar to bridge. Daniel watched as he did play the game, but in such a way that it was clear he was focusing on the game the same way he had focused on the room: in a way, he was not so much playing it as examining it.
In the end, it had a result he didn't expect, as a female MHA came in and started rounding several people in the common room up for a group therapy session.
"And you're the last. Come on guys." The MHA said to the four playing Spades.
"What?" Noel asked.
"Oh, you must be new. Follow me. It's time for group therapy."
"…what?" Noel said, confused. He hadn't been in any group therapy sessions before. Had Dr. Sidlakus set this up? For what reason? And why hadn't be told Noel? Had there been another communication snafu, purposeful or accidentally?
One would wonder why, in the end, Noel went along with the four, but in Noel's mind, this wasn't the same as pills. Maybe this was legit. Only one way to find out.
Noel found out: it was another error.
But by the time he'd puzzled that out, the group session of about a dozen patients, including Cindy, had started under the care of Dr. Holly Sessler. It happened around the time when one had started talking about what had happened to the relationship with his parents when he'd become addicted to crack cocaine, and Noel realized this was a group session for drug abusers. Out of politeness for the patient, Noel decided to wait until he was finished before he interrupted and excused himself.
He never got the chance, for the moment the patient (what was his name, Charles?) stopped talking, another patient immediately STARTED talking. Noel looked over to her, a very overweight woman in a wheelchair, as she started talking about her own addiction to painkillers…which segued into how she had recovered with the help of Jesus.
Which went on.
And on.
And on. The woman simply would not shut up. Even when the doctor tried to make her stop (and from Dr. Sessler's attempts Noel learned her name was apparently Shirley), she would just talk over the doctor. Cindy slowly grew more and more pissed looking, as Shirley continued to blabber on and on, her tone becoming steadily more obnoxious in its utter obliviousness of how rude she was being.
Noel found himself beginning to grind his teeth as the woman brought up for the ninth time she had been saved via Jesus and that everyone here should be too. She just would NOT shut up. Noel glanced around, noting the looks of aggravation not just on several of the patients' faces, but on the MHA's present at the time. Noel glanced back at Dr. Sessler, who Noel had judged to be a decent person, but clearly incapable of controlling someone like Shirley.
"OH SHUT THE FUCK UP ROLLER PIG!" Cindy finally erupted.
"DON'T YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY! YOU'RE A DEVIL! YOU'RE A DEVIL AND YOU'LL BE BURNING IN HELL!" Shirley shrieked back, and the MHA's had to get involved, which finally got Shirley to quiet down for a bit. Amazingly, Cindy was not removed from the room, or considering what she'd done, maybe not so amazingly.
"Does anyone else want to…" Dr. Sessler began.
"JESUS chose ME to go to heaven, you must…" Shirley started up again. Noel had had enough.
"Excuse me!" Noel said, cutting Shirley off. "I think I'm in the wrong session. I don't have a problem of this variety."
"Hold on a moment sir. Shirley I must…"
"No, really, miss. I'm not here for drug addiction, there's been a scheduling error, I should really go…" Noel said.
"Don't deny you have a problem! That's the devil's work! You need to accept help, like Jesus…!" Shirley ranted.
"I'm not TALKING to you." Noel said. "I'm not kidding you should…"
"How dare you be so rude! Your mother should have spanked you more! She's probably burning in hell for…!"
No one saw Noel move: one second he was sitting and facing Dr. Sessler and the next he was across the circle and right in Shirley's face, his hands planted on her wheelchair arms as he looked at her in cold, violent fury, a look so intense it actually succeeding in scaring Shirley silent.
"SHUT. UP." Noel snarled in a tone that could scar metal. "Or there will be CONSEQUENCES."
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HELP! THE DEVIL'S GOING TO KILL ME!" Shirley screamed, as Noel pushed himself away from the woman and held up his arms as the MHA's approached to indicate he wasn't going to get violent.
"Quiet! Calm down everyone! Please! Be calm!" Dr. Sessler tried to command. "Sir, please sit down…!"
"YOU'RE THE DEVIL! YOU'LL BURN IN HELL! YOU'LL BURN IN HELL!" Shirley screamed.
"OH SHUT YOU FAT HOLE YOU FUCKING ROLLER CUNT!" Cindy screamed back, and before the MHA's could react, focusing on Noel, she herself got up, grabbed Shirley's wheelchair, and tipped it over, sending the overweight fundamentalist crashing to the ground with loud screams.
Chaos broke out, as Cindy's violent action finally stirred the patients to life as they started cheering and generally making loud approval noises and the MHA's found themselves overwhelmed trying to restrain a furious, struggling Cindy, a near foaming at the mouth Shirley, and a few other rowdy patients. Dr. Sessler did what she could to bring the session back under control.
In all the racket, Noel decided to show himself out before he started trying to kill someone. He REALLY wanted to inflict some harm on something.
And hence, when Dr. Sessler finally noticed several minutes later, Noel was long gone.
Telephones.
In 1873 Alexander Graham Bell spoke into a wire that took a message about a mile. 130 years later, satellites fly above us, ensuring that we stay connected at all times.
For better or for worse. How many of us have been interrupted by a telemarketer in the middle of a meal, or prank-called in the middle of the night? And for an unlucky few, how many have had hundreds, thousands, millions of calls made by people who claim love and really mean something far worse? And how about those car accidents that happened because the driver is too busy yakking on his cell phone?
Still, nothing can sooth a crappy day then an unexpected call from someone who says they love you.
Yet…isn't it funny…so many of us end a call by saying "keep in touch", when in the end, no contact was ever made…in the first place?
Dr. Sidlakus was studying a file when the door abruptly opened and Noel walked in.
"I'd like to have a session please." Noel said as the doctor looked up in mild alarm, as he went over to the couch and sat down on it. "Do you have a stress reliever? I'd rather not put my fist through a wall."
"Um…it's a bit unorthodox, but I have no prior engagements." Dr. Sidlakus said as he closed the file and produced a notepad and pencil. "Here. I don't have anything like a stress ball, but you're welcome to draw or write."
Noel seized the pad and began intensely scribbling for a few minutes, ripping the pages off messily as he ran out of room and throwing them aside. Dr. Sidlakus retrieved them, to find there were all the same.
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU…and so on, over and over, in furious jagged printing that more than once tore through the page.
"Not you." Noel said, as his writing pace slowed down and stopped, as he ripped off a few more pages and tossed them aside. "You may want to get on the phone and tell security where I am before they induce a lockdown looking for me."
"No worries. They'll look here after they look in your room. Let them search. Mind telling me what happened?"
"A series of errors. First I was accidentally put in an addictions therapy group. Not a problem. Then a fucking loud mouth self-righteous vile bitch dared to pass judgment on myself and my mother. Big problem and I still wish I'd strangled the air she's wasting out of her. I could have, you know. I cut off a man's hands once."
"From the sounds of it, I think I would have been so inclined had someone judged my mother. No wonder you were angry. But you've peaked my interest; what made you angry enough to cut someone's hands off?"
"Oh the usual. Was framed by someone for his crimes. Had my friends beat me up and condemn me for it. Then he tried to kill THEM." Noel muttered. "Then he beat me half to death, all the while glorifying in the pain and death he brought to people, especially women, and self-righteously declaring I deserved all I'd suffered because I'd dared 'steal' from him. Then he tried to kill me. The average, everyday reasons, you know. Are you familiar with Ayn Rand? " Noel said, as he began to draw again.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not."
"Really. She was a Russian philosopher, who escaped from the Soviet Union. She wrote that the proper way to live was hyper-individualism, and that altruism was just manipulation by others to ensure they could live by your effort. Looters, she called them. Of course, that's understandable: the communists ruined her father and she showed up in America during the Depression when pro-socialist values were in vogue. A good idea for bad reasons, and I feel that it becomes embodied in cases where psychotic misogynistic Australians are trying to kill you for the ultimate core reason that THEY'RE INSANE!" Noel snapped, as he ripped the page off and tossed it aside.
"So was the Australian the man whose hands you cut off?" Dr. Sidlakus asked as he retrieved the paper…which seemed to show what looked like Noel, except with different hair and cruel eyes. Words were scattered around the paper: BASTARD, NEVER, STAY IN ARKHAM, I WILL KILL YOU, and DAMN YOU.
"I used a subway train. It was convenient." Noel muttered.
"How did you manage it with a train?"
"Because I'm just that fucking METAL." Noel snapped in reply, and went quiet as he started drawing again.
Silence for a bit.
"…when was the first time you saw someone fly?" Noel abruptly asked.
"…well, there wasn't much activity like that even in the States at the time, but the first time was with a man in a red costume with a green cape. He seemed assisted by a rod…"
"Starman. Ted Knight. Good man. Helped invent the A-Bomb and was noble enough to be tormented by it for years. Before that became 'the in-thing'." Noel said with finger quotes. "His son Jack was a damn good guy as well, or so I hear…I guess not all Jacks are bad eggs…what's in a name…that which…nothing comes up roses…" Noel murmured.
"Was Jack the name of the man whose hands you cut off?"
"Irredeemable…in love with his twisted version of the world…and yet he was more honest with himself than I was…he said I'd end up in the same place…how could he be right…why…for pity's sake what did I do…is my lineage that cursed…" Noel muttered, as he started to rock back and forth.
"Alex? Are you all right?" Dr. Sidlakus asked. Noel sighed.
"When did you first see Superman?"
"…Not until I was in my mid-forties…Sometime in the early nineties or late eighties, I believe."
"And what did you think? A man who could make miracles, and he was for truth, justice, and the American way. Tell the truth doctor. Look at policemen and army soldiers, and give me your professional opinion."
"He gave me hope. The tension between the Soviets and America along with all the other tension in the world was a source of great fear when combined with all the other dangers of the world…but if someone was willing to stand up to threats for the sake of the innocent, maybe others would as well."
"…to defend the innocent…to protect hope…damn him…damn him…I…" Noel muttered. "…I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat."
Noel leaned back and sighed.
"I don't feel like talking any more. You'd best have someone take me back to my room."
"Alright." Dr. Sidlakus said, as he headed back to his desk. "Would you like to keep the notepad and pencil?"
"Too tempted I might ram it in my eye to stop seeing what my hands have wrought." Noel murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing. No." Noel said, and went silent again.
"Alright. I'd like to schedule a session for tomorrow if you're feeling up to it." Dr. Sidlakus said as he called the MHA's.
"Do you see the red visage peering from the shadows?"
"What?" Dr. Sidlakus said.
"Oh. Guess it was me. Maybe it WAS me. Perhaps it will never be." Noel said. "Descent into heat. Broken lying mirror."
"…I'll just write it in. You're welcome to come back in the meantime if you'd like to talk." Dr. Sidlakus said as two MHA's entered, the same as yesterday. "Take him to room 13 please. We're done for the day. Oh, and make sure he's eaten too."
"Yes sir." One of them said, as they took Noel out.
"…they raped Sleeping Beauty, you know. Perhaps while eating lung and liver." Noel told the MHA's as they escorted Noel down the hall.
"…well, hopefully it was cooked. That stuff looks bad enough, let alone raw." One of the MHA's replied.
Noel said nothing more, as the MHA's left him in his room, staring at whatever has so fascinated him a few days ago.
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 6th, 200X
From Dr. Luke Sidlakus
Once again, Mr. Oz proves to be a very interesting case. Despite his lucidity and clear understanding of the world around him, he sometimes takes a turn into the absurd. I'm uncertain if his ramblings are literal, symbolic, or nonsense. Given his personality, I assume that his words have some meaning to him, enigmatic though they are. There was a lot of information in this session, but I'll have to review the recording before I make any conclusions about his condition.
Mr. Oz did reveal a consistent object of rage: a man whose hands he claims to have cut off. I can't be sure, but it's possible that this man is also the Australian man he mentioned, possibly with the name "Jack". Apparently, he used a subway train to remove his hands for framing him for crimes. I doubt the complete truth of his story, especially since he would have a criminal record for committing such an act, but considering his file is mostly restricted, I can't be sure. What is certain is that his violent tendencies are beginning to emerge. I'm sure that this sort of rage is not a recent development, but a dormant emotion that he's been trying to contain. I can't say it's progress that he's begun to express his darker emotions, but it will allow me to dig deeper without fear of his regressing without warning signs.
If he enters another depersonalized state, I may have to avoid the topic of this Australian man. If he doesn't, I'll probe deeper. If nothing else, he is a symbol to Mr. Oz, one deeply connected to his rage.
Finally, Mr. Oz mentioned seeing a red apparition before leaving my office. Hopefully he is not hallucinating and only saw a trick of the light. If he becomes schizophrenic, as he would with the symptoms he's beginning to show, his treatment will become exceedingly difficult without medication. I'll consider the matter if it comes to it.
I've scheduled a session for tomorrow. Perhaps I can clear up some of the mysteries he's given me.
The next day looked to be nice, though that fact was probably lost on more then a few patients of the Edge City Asylum, as well as a few employees as the sun began to emerge over the horizon.
Illuminating the yet-unlit halls as the man walked through them, accompanied by a large orderly, this one well muscled and with a few inches on the doctor, who was quite tall and lank himself, with black hair cut close to the skull and with a semi long face. Dressed in a suit rather then more casual clothing and a white jacket, the man and his orderly continued down the hallway for a bit before stopping in front of a door numbered 11.
"And this is?" The man asked the orderly, who consulted a sheet.
"A Rebecca Miles. Real screwed up fruit loop. Likes to hurt people, doesn't matter if it's with sharp things or blunt things. Real savage. I would not recommend going in doc. She has a tendency to use her nails."
"Does her physician have her on any medication to control her outbursts?"
"Everything. Her body breaks it down in record time. She's real strong that way, ain't she blessed." The orderly said sourly. "You're never sure when she's actually drugged or just luring you. It's why we pretty much just leave her locked in the room all the time."
"Perhaps he should try some tranquilizers then. Thorazine may be outdated, but its replacements work wonders." The man said. "I'll suggest it to him."
The man moved on, followed by the orderly, until they came to another room.
Room 13.
"This is the one who attacked the two orderlies several days ago?"
"Yeah, then the fucker snowballed the docs into the claim it was their fault and got off scott-free. Pardon my French doc." The orderly said.
"Just be sure no one else hears comments like that; the other doctors would mind. Which doctor handled the matter?"
"Doc Sid. I mean Dr. Sidlakus. Which surprises me, you know? He struck me as a smart cookie. But this guy claims he was jumped, yet it was my friends who got the bruises, y'know? You get what I'm sayin'?"
"Yes. I understand." The apparent doctor said. "Strange circumstances as well. Is he on any medication?"
"No. He refuses it."
"Hmph. After behavior like that, it's a wonder Dr. Sidlakus doesn't reconsider. Shall we?"
"All right doc, but be careful. I'm gonna be." The orderly said as he produced some keys and once again unlocked Noel's door.
Noel was not sitting and staring at the ground this time. This time he was up. Quite literally up, as he was balancing on one arm, hand firmly gripped on the end of his bed, as he did one-armed handstand pushups, sweat running in rivers down his bare chest, rife with the scars of past battles that Raven hadn't quite been able to clear away. From how he'd positioned his bed, his back was to the door, but he heard it open, momentarily freezing in place, his arm quivering as he briefly held himself up.
And then he let his legs tip over, thudding down on his feet, as he rolled the arm he'd been exercising at the shoulder and cracked the fingers, as he wiped his sweaty hair out of his face as best he could, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unfamiliar faces.
"Yes?" He asked in a mostly neutral tone, the terseness only faintly underlying it.
"…well that's different. If you'd like to exercise, we have some facilities." The doctor said.
"I'm fine. And you are?"
"Dr. Phale. I'm just checking all the new patients. I hear you've had a lot of activity lately."
Noel's eyes examined the doctor, his appearance and manner, as his vision flicked to the orderly behind him, examining him in turn before returning his gaze to Dr. Phale.
"You mean you think I'm a lying nutcase for beating the shit out of that ape behind you's friends. You are, like many I've known, so very wrong." Noel said as he continued to flex and roll his shoulders.
Phale's mild manner faded.
"I don't appreciate being judged so callously when I've done nothing to deserve it."
"Then you clearly have no idea what's at the heart of life, do you! Or we wouldn't get women microwaving their babies, or child molesters mailing pieces of their victims to their families, or gangs forcing sons to rape their mothers and then pouring bleach in his eyes so that appalling act would be the last thing they see! Deserve'd got nothin' to do with it, Herr doctor." Noel said as he sat down on the bed. "Do you wish to discuss something specific?"
"…no, I believe I've heard what's needed. Good day." Dr. Phale said, as he left the room.
The orderly paused for a moment, giving Noel a dirty look.
"Try it. Please." Noel said. "I annihilate shits like you on my days off from kicking ass."
If the orderly did indeed want to challenge Noel, he did not attempt it then, as he turned and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Noel sat there for a moment, and then, lacking any aggressors, seemed to deflate.
"…then again…who says I'm any better…then those people…" Noel said quietly to himself. "They…had the excuse of not knowing better…how can I say…I didn't…?"
TV.
The greatest creation of all, some may say. The ultimate escape from a harsh, brutal reality. For all books and radio and movies could do, TV was the nirvana: a steady diet of lies and impossible dreams fed to you daily, in between commercials for Jello and second-hand cars.
Forget God making man in his own image. Man could now make himself in his own image, put it on a screen, and watch as all the shit hits all the fans, all in the comfort of your own living room.
A better reality for those who hated theirs, caught up in a form that could never be touched or brought down.
"You see what I mean, Dr. Hattings?" Daniel Owens, pointing to Noel behind the glass of the nurse's station. "Like clockwork, all the time. All he ever does."
"Well, maybe he just prefers his solitude." The wiry doctor with the crazy hair said. "Is he on any medication?"
"None listed so far. Though I think its time for meds for the rest. Nurse Matthews?"
"I'll begin sir." A plump nurse said as she stood and went to retrieve cups filled with various patients' medications.
"We'd best have some extra help. Where's Elijah?"
"Here sir." Elijah Morrison said as he was suddenly next to the pair, making them start.
"That was fast." Dr. Hastings said.
"It's a gift. You should see Danny here. I might be fast, but he's so quiet sometimes I swear he's a damn ghost."
"He's looking at us Doctor." Daniel suddenly said, and Dr. Hastings turned from his conversation with Elijah to see that Noel was indeed regarding them. But the scrutiny was unspecific, and Noel did not turn away when the doctors and orderlies returned his gaze.
"What do you think he's thinking?" Elijah asked.
"He's suffering from an uncertain dissociative disorder, right? It's not uncommon for people like that to glean details from subconscious viewing and put together an entirely new world in their head with such things. Or maybe he doesn't see us at all. It's hard to say."
"Yeesh. Considering how much time he spends sleeping and out of it, I wonder how many stories he's put together in his head about us."
"Who can say?" Dr. Hastings said, and turned back to Nurse Matthews as she returned with the pills. "Ah thank you Miss Sophie."
If Noel was aware of the four employees of the asylum and what they were saying, he gave no sign. He just continued to watch as those who actually took medication, and then kept on watching the room, occasionally changing his viewpoint.
When Daniel came to take him for his appointment that day with Dr. Sidlakus, there remained no answers if he'd taken it all in or hadn't seen a thing.
"I lied to my friends." Noel said.
"…why would you do that?" Dr. Sidlakus asked, as Noel lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
"Because they wouldn't have understood." Noel said. "They wouldn't have…accepted what I'd had to do."
"Are you sure? They're your friends after all."
Noel sighed again…and then got up, pulling out a chair and sitting down in front of the desk.
"Due to a ill-timed stunt, I was sent to attend a series of meetings with others who shared certain…life attributes with me. During these meetings we are generally discouraged to 'do outside work', or if we must, keep it subtle, as all of us in one place could be said to disrupt the status quo. I found that I did need some more mental stimulation then I was getting, so I went looking, subtly of course. My explorations caused me to cross paths with a police-trained paramedic named Virginia Gentry. Originally I was just providing some…outside help, but afterwards she got in touch with me to put forth something she had observed. She had noticed an abnormally large cluster of either DOA or DSAA patients at the primary hospital she worked at that all seemed to fit a trend: they had done something bad. Drug dealers with minor gunshot wounds, drunk drivers who had badly hurt people in crashes, and so on, all abruptly dying when you think they wouldn't. She didn't have much at the time besides a sense of unease, but I decided I'd investigate it with her. But before we could really get anywhere, the meetings ended and I had to return home. She told me she'd contact me if she found anything viable or if she needed my help…and eventually she did. And at the time, since I didn't know what was going on, I decided it would be best to handle alone. So I made up an excuse that I had to go back to finish up some last bit of the meeting missed before, and I headed back…too late. She was dead."
Noel was quiet for a bit.
"…supposedly…she was in an exercise with her fellow officers…and she had an accident, fell over a balcony in a training house, suffered a neck injury, and in the hospital, they gave her the wrong medicine, or too much, and she died. I was…upset. But it got worse, as events transferred so that I stumbled over a file she'd hidden away for me just in case something like this happened. And what that file told me, and where it led me too…"
Noel was silent again.
"It was worse then she thought. There was actually a CONSPIRACY, composed of members of the police, fire, and medical department at the hospital Virginia worked at, to put 'bad people' who had come in with injuries to death. Their motivation was simply…they were tired. Tired of innocent families being wiped out by alcoholics who walked away with broken limbs. Tired of kids getting shot in drive-by's. Tired of a society that just seemed to be breaking apart more and more every day. The only solution they could see was, in a way, the final solution. And when Virginia got too close, and it was apparent she wouldn't share such a cold morality…they killed her. Her death was no accident. Her CO-WORKERS, her FRIENDS, who worked in the police and hospital, pushed her over the balcony in the confusion of the exercise, and purposely gave her the wrong drug. Because she would have exposed them, you see. Because she'd have ruined their system of justice. In the end, to avoid the hardships of the other path, they chose to sacrifice her instead. They loved her. And they still killed her."
Silence.
"…..I was furious beyond all belief. The vile they unleashed…there was evidence to be found, the ability to bring the perpetrators to justice properly…I tossed it aside. I found one and I broke him. I made him feel the rage he'd awoken in his choice and used it to force a confession to the proper authorities…all in such a fashion that my anger wouldn't snarl up the aftermath. And with the case blown open, by my own manipulations, I went and brought down as many of the rest as I could. And I hurt them, with my fists and with bitter, judgmental words, crushing them under my boot for their crimes. I thrust aside law, and even justice, and sought instead my own release from the storm they'd set into motion in me. And when it was all done, and they were all in jail awaiting charges and trial and all the usual, I slept the sleep of the just that night and sang along to the radio in the car on my way home."
Silence, once again.
"…I no longer derive any peace from those choices. Instead…it just shows me for what I really am…and how I deserve worse then those I destroyed. At least they believed in their system of judgment. At least they weren't hypocrites."
"I'd have to disagree." Dr. Sidlakus said. "Anyone willing to kill one of their own for any sort of 'justice' is a hypocrite. You, on the other hand, didn't kill anyone. You may have hurt them, but in the end, you let the justice system work it out after exposing them."
"I dropped a water tower on a man with no care whether he survived or not. He did. He ascended. He used my failure to take the lives of thousands." Noel said dully. "The reason I cut off Jack's hands is because I needed a substitute for cutting off his head. And my father…I'll kill him. One day. If I spend the rest of my life here, I will ensure there is a reason for it…damn them all…damn them all…" Noel said as he put his face in his hands.
"Have you ever wondered if it was better to let someone else have the responsibility?" Dr. Sidlakus asked. Noel looked at him, his expression uncomprehending.
"You're overburdening yourself. Is all this anger worth being here and the risk of losing your friends?"
"I have NO CHOICE!" Noel snapped. "He's IN ME! Racing through my veins, crackling in my brain. Every choice I make for myself rather then others is guided by his hand! And those choices…they're the satisfying ones! And…no…I can't be him…I won't be him…I'll tear myself apart before I let him…should have killed him…was made to kill him…was too eager to kill him…heroes don't kill, heroes are dead…" Noel babbled, rocking back and forth.
"Alex?"
"I'm sorry Crystal…I'm sorry Raven…I let you down…I promised to be something I can't and pretended to be something I'm not…and the thing I am…I'll kill myself first…damn it…damn it all…" Noel mumbled…and then abruptly went still, before leaning back in his chair. "I can't see the future I saw on those miles of glass. All I can see is the gleam of the blade."
"Alex, is it possible that he wanted you to do this? That giving in is playing into his hands with this as the result?"
Noel looked at Dr. Sidlakus.
"…he knows nothing. And in that, everything." Noel said. "…………..Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?"
And Noel leaned back from the chair.
"I'm not proper today. I need a break. Maybe later, doctor."
"Alright. Are there any activities you'd like to try to help relax during the day?"
"…my room…no…might be him…he of the dark gaze, real or not…" Noel said. "Maybe elsewhere. Don't know where. Elsewhere."
"…did someone visit your room?" Dr. Sidlakus asked, curious.
"He who in his understanding, learned to understand less. Trouble, he'll be. Oh look, I'm Yoda now. Mmmmmm, yes." Noel said. "Got any gum?"
Dr. Sidlakus chuckled and gave Noel some. "Who was he?"
"To me, his name will inevitably be apt." Noel said, and lapsed into silence, chewing on his gum.
Dr. Sidlakus looked at his patient, deciding to look into it. "Would you like to stay here a while or would you prefer to go to your room?"
"…unsure. Will let fate carry me where it will…may it be kinder." Noel said.
"Well, I don't want you heading back so early today. I'll have the MHA's take you to the common room for a bit." Dr. Sidlakus said as he scratched down a note. "Give them this when you want to head back."
Noel took the note silently, and said nothing as the MHA's came and took him back to the common room.
The calm before the storm.
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 7th, 200X
From Dr. Luke Sidlakus
Mr. Oz is becoming increasingly cryptic and violent, not only in his behavior, but in his manner. He's more defensive and even threatens to kill someone who is supposedly manipulating his behavior. He also tells stories of trying to kill other people, but never succeeding. I fear he may be developing paranoid delusions if the stories he tells are not fact, but if they are true, I have to convince him that he can make his own choices. Unfortunately, when faced with the responsibility of his actions, he becomes remorseful and introverted. He has a clear desire to kill certain people in his life, but he refuses to act on those desires because he fears becoming a hypocrite. That paradox leaves him in torment, so I must persuade him that he must eliminate that desire somehow. I'll try to develop an exercise or stress relief for him to do whenever he feels such anger, but he needs the satisfaction of releasing that anger without guilt. I have to be careful not to push him into another depersonalized state. I'm not sure if he'll want to try anymore if he doesn't show any progress.
Elijah didn't think they'd be trouble when Cindy approached the returned Alexander Oz: according to Daniel the two had been cordial to each other, and Cindy had apparently been asking around for him. So when Alexander had returned and resumed his position in the corner, she'd made a beeline for him.
Mr. Oz mentioned two more people, though they are probably symbols. Crystal and Raven possibly could be names, but they're not common, especially Raven. I'll look up the symbolic meaning of each, but if they don't match Mr. Oz's personality, I may have to ask the Superintendent for access to the restricted files. It's becoming increasingly difficult to treat him without medication or an inkling of his past, and any information in the files may be useful to me.
"Hey! The Guardian Angel is back!" She said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Great work! Roller Pig's been in a permanent fit ever since you shut her up!"
"…what…?" Noel said, sounding dazed.
There was also a visitor Mr. Oz mentioned, but due to his increasingly cryptic stories, I can't tell if someone did visit his room or not. He mentioned seeing a red specter before, but he didn't mention it was red in this session. I'll check with the other doctors to see if anyone went in; he's obviously agitated.
"Don't feel bad. She's a nosy, self-righteous fat cunt and she deserved worse. I've never actually seen someone who managed to shut her up with words before! You're a fucking hero, man!"
I will take a moment to review the recording; I want my current suspicions to remain fresh and recorded before I do my research.
"…no……nonono NO DAMMIT! NO!" Noel suddenly screamed, as he reared off the stool, causing Cindy to recoil…as he abruptly turned and began slamming his head against the wall. "OUT! OUT! OUT!"
"Hey man don't!" Cindy yelled, trying to stop Noel, but he shook off her hands and she backed away as Elijah and another MHA charged, as Noel continued to hammer his head against the wall, blood streaming down his forehead.
The unnamed one grabbed Noel's arm to restrain him.
And he whirled off the wall, switching the angle and momentum of the attempted arm lock before he yanked and twisted, hurling the MHA to the ground in a judo throw.
"Sorry." Noel said quietly, as Elijah came for him, trying to get his wrists. Noel dodged around him, his hand blurring out and seizing the MHA's belt, insanely fast fingerwork undoing it and yanking it free before the orderly knew what had happened, his pants falling to his ankles as Noel pulled the belt free. Elijah, finding his ankles entangled, stumbled forward…as Noel lashed out, wrapping the belt around his legs and quickly slipping the loop through the belt buckle, snapping the belt closed on his legs and causing him to tumble over.
"Sorry." Noel said again, as the first orderly got up and charged at Noel again.
He should have been more cautious, as Noel slipped around him again and lashed out with a chop, impacting the back of the orderly's neck and short-circuiting his nervous system briefly, as he collapsed, dazed. By now, the nurses had called for security in a panic, and alarms had started going off.
"Sorry…" Noel said, as he put his hands to his face, his fingers digging into his forehead and upper cheeks and drawing fresh blood that ran down his face and hands. "I'm so sorry…so sorry…so sorry…so sorry…"
After reviewing the recording, I believe that the main antagonist in Mr. Oz's life is his father. He believes his father is manipulating his life and every choice he makes, and then is enraged at himself that he enjoys what those choices bring. I'm considering a treatment in redirection; if I can convince him that he chooses according to a different rationale than his father intends, then it's not control and he is fr
"DOC WE GOT A PROBLEM!" An orderly yelled as Dr. Sidlakus jerked up from his work. "Your patient is losing it in the common room!"
Alarm crossed the old physician's features, and he got up and left the room, following the sprinting orderly.
Security and new orderlies began streaming in, as Noel took his hands away from his face, looking at the blood.
"…oh great, she fell into the same pit trap and now I'm a cutter. Talk about character derailment. Crawling in my skinnnnnnn…" Noel muttered.
And then he was overwhelmed.
When Dr. Sidlakus finally found Noel again, he was in the infirmary, restrained and mildly sedated, as a nurse cleaned the cuts on his face.
"What happened?"
"As far as I can tell, he just went bonkers in the common room, started banging his head on the wall and clawing at his face. Took down a few more orderlies too." The nurse said, as she dabbed the wounds with disinfectant.
"Is he conscious?"
"A touch slow but more alert then a fair bit of the patients I get in here. The sedative didn't seem to do much. But he's been calm." The nurse said.
"…give us a moment." Dr. Sidlakus asked. The nurse nodded and left. Dr. Sidlakus took her place and her job.
"Do you want to talk or would you rather just rest now?"
"…had to…not a hero…I was weak…weak…pain is weakness leaving the body…pain is weakness leaving the body…" Noel said with remarkably little slurring.
"Who told you you had to be a hero?"
"I did…and I failed. Only way…to escape him…never escaped him…need to suffer. What I deserve. Only thing. Burn it out. Burn like the fires in his eyes." Noel said. "…I'm sorry for these orderlies. They were innocent. But my pain…is my own. Should have…abused skill even more…no wonder the Shimmer left…I'm so sorry…so tired…sleep now…" Noel said, as he closed his eyes.
Dr. Sidlakus sighed, summoning the nurse back over as he got up and left. It did not take him long to find Elijah Morrison.
"Just what happened?"
"Well, he was sitting there, and Cindy came over, she was happy over some incident yesterday Mr. Oz had a hand in, she said he was a hero…and Mr. Oz snapped and started pounding his head on the wall. But the really weird thing is when we went to stop him…well sir, he then turned into James Bond."
"Interesting. Could anything else have happened to agitate him or set him off?"
"I asked Cindy, she swear she was telling the truth: she was complimenting him and he went nuts. And yet…he was able to disable Mack and myself with minimal effort despite being in a psychotic break. It was insane…well, you know what I mean Doctor. It was like Jet Li. But unlike Tyler and Alphonse…well he didn't hurt us. Well Mack's neck is a touch sore, but it was nothing like the first time. More like…he just didn't want any interruptions to his self-harm."
Dr. Sidlakus sighed. He found he was doing that a lot.
"I'll have to keep him here until I'm sure he won't try something like that again. If there's a change in his behavior or his condition, have the doctor contact me immediately."
"Yes sir…Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Who IS he? I know I have all these papers signed but…what the Christ, you know?"
"I'm considering asking the superintendent for the files after an incident like this. But treat him no different than the others. That's what agitates him."
"All right doc. Really…I mean…ugh." Elijah said and headed over to his 'watcher's desk'.
Dr. Sidlakus had his own work to do. For one, he needed to redefine a few things.
I had been called away to the common room. Apparently, another patient had called Mr. Oz a hero (possibly for his confrontation yesterday) and Mr. Oz had reacted by banging his head against the wall repeatedly and clawing at his face. The orderlies attempted to stop him, but he fought back, rather well too, until they outnumbered him and he stopped trying. By the time I arrived, he was already taken to the infirmary and being treated for his wounds. He spoke very little, but he was clear that he did not like being called a hero because he feels he doesn't deserve it.
Unfortunately, while this doesn't change the goals of my treatment, it will make it more difficult. Mr. Oz still trusts me, but I need to make him trust his own judgment now.
I fear medication may be necessary, but unless he approves, I won't prescribe anything. I must speak with the superintendent; I fear he may be losing his lucidity.
Some time passed.
Noel remained in the infirmary, restrained except when he was eating, using the facilities, or cleaning himself, and watched at all times by MHA's, despite his occasional efforts to request privacy. The MHA's refused, indicating that Noel was basically on suicide watch. When Noel informed them he wouldn't be committing suicide any time soon, they told him they still had their jobs to do as ordered. Mostly, he remained quiet and distant, his mind ever at work at something, even if it was its own further destruction.
So when the order finally came down that he was being released, Noel was relieved: being tied up and watched all the time sucked. At least he hadn't been drugged.
His relief kept him from noticing something was wrong later then he normally was, as he was escorted down the hallway by the usual two MHA's, a pair Noel didn't happen to know. It was nighttime, and lights out for a good part of the hospital, leaving a lot of the hallways dark and shadowy.
"Uh guys, we're going the wrong way." Noel said. "I'm pretty sure my room isn't down this way."
"We know, but a doc requested to see you. It was last minute." One of them said.
"…who." Noel said quietly.
"Doctor Phale."
Noel stiffened.
"…he's a recent arrival, isn't he. What does he treat?"
"I don't know yet. I'm not sure if he has any patients assigned to him."
Noel's face grew dark.
"You might want to have your tranquilizers ready. There's a chance this will not go well." Noel said quietly.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." Noel said. "…Outside in the distance a wild cat did growl, two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl."
"That a quote from something?"
"Dylan. Quote. Reality. Past. Future…" Noel said, and trailed off with a sigh.
"Well, we're here." The MHA said, as he knocked on the door.
"Enter."
You can tell a lot by a man by how he surrounds himself, and even if Noel had not yet met Dr. Phale, he would have immediately been put on alert upon entering his office. In stark contrast to Dr. Sidlakus', Phale's was organized and neat to TOO great a degree, everything made rigid-looking as a result. There were only chairs in the room, each with a high backing, around a very expensive looking desk the tall doctor sat behind, looking at Noel as he was brought in.
Noel tried to keep his expression neutral: he wasn't in the mood for more nonsense or more time spent being restrained, as he sat down in the nearest chair without waiting for an offer.
"Wait outside please, orderlies. I'd prefer this conversation be private." Dr. Phale said. The orderlies nodded and left the room, leaving Noel alone with the perhaps not so good doctor. The white-haired boy leaned back against the chair and brought his hands together, rolling his fingers so the tops repeatedly tapped together.
"So. I hear you're doing better after resting those few days." Dr. Phale said.
"I am. What is your specialty, doctor?" Noel abruptly asked.
"My specialty? Criminology. I transferred here from a state hospital."
"Why?"
"There are more opportunities at this asylum."
"Oh I see. Perhaps there are." Noel said. "What does the school of criminology entail, doctor?"
"I used to treat mentally ill criminals. My purpose here is to treat the more violent patients due to my experience. And why are you here, may I ask?"
"I lost my way…or maybe found it and found it hard."
"Found it was too much to handle?"
"We're not at the letters page yet." Noel said.
"The letters page?"
"Precisely."
"So then why would you commit such a self-destructive act?" Dr. Phale asked.
"You ever heard a joke so funny you were helpless with laughter?" Noel asked.
"No."
"Stop the presses." Noel muttered. "Well, don't think words and timing can just produce laughter."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"That's the way it often goes." Noel replied.
"So is any knowledge vital to your diagnosis dismissed that way as well?"
"You tell me."
"How convenient."
"Maybe. Perhaps it's funny. Perhaps it's tragic. I just know it's not a Law and Order episode, everything wrapped up in 44 minutes. Barring the occasional two-parter, of course."
"Even fictional stories have their coincidences, but you seem to enjoy more then most."
"I'm blessed that way. Do you have a point doctor?" Noel asked, crossing his arms.
"Do you have a reason for being so hostile?"
"The fact you don't know indicates you don't deserve to know."
"Likewise."
"Do you believe me to be a criminal, Dr. Phale? Is that why I'm here?"
"If I was to treat criminals, I would still be at a state hospital."
"So what are we doing here?"
"I told you, I'm here to treat violent patients. The Superintendent decided that, while I have to specify patients for more in depth treatment, I am to oversee all cases with violent patients. You, due to your recent outbursts, are now one of them."
"Then why do I get a distinct lack of 'revolving door', as if instead of a long line of personal interviews, I am the only patient to see this office?" Noel asked.
"Unlike the others, you seem to have a distinct control over your violent temper, so I doubt I have much to fear from you. Other patients I oversee must remain in their rooms or designated areas. Besides, if you were to harm me, with that knowledge of your self-control, I could easily change your treatment and primary doctor to suit your newfound temper."
Silence.
"…either way, I don't think you're that much of a threat. Do you disagree? Should I consider you a threat?"
Despite himself, Noel smirked bitterly.
"You have no idea or chance of helping me. You'd be much better off if you focused your attention and effort on other patients."
"Other patients that I treat are just as difficult, just in their own manner. I've had few failures in my career, but they tended to be the actors among the unwell."
"…Ahhhhhhhhh…I see what your judgment has wrought." Noel said. "What a pity your experiences defined your view of the world rather then refined it."
"My experiences are quite extensive. As for judgment, do you think I should be casting judgment on you? After all, this is the first of many sessions I have planned. I'd be disappointed if this was all you had to offer."
"…..doctor. I've lost my mind. I have not lost my capacity to think. And to recognize." Noel said, as he got up. "I have worlds to offer. But not to you."
And Noel turned and headed for the door.
"We'll see, Mr. Oz." Dr. Phale said, as he buzzed the MHA's to take him back.
Strangely, they did not come, as Noel opened the unlocked office door himself.
"Wait for the MHA's. They're supposed to escort you."
Noel ignored the doctor, heading out the door and into the hallway.
"Orderlies! He's out there! Orderlies?" Dr. Phale called, his brow furrowed as he got no answer. He picked up the radio the security and orderlies used that had been provided to him and keyed it up. "Attention! Where are the orderlies in Ward 3, we have an unescorted patient in the halls! Hello! Hello! Is anyone there?"
"Doc? Oh man, big problem doc!" A voice crackled on the other end. "There was some error and that Rebecca loon has escaped, she broke into another ward and attacked a patient! And in the chaos, some crazy pyromaniac bitch also escaped and set the kitchen on fire! We're all down in the lower right end of the building trying to get it under control!"
"What ward are they in now?"
"The patients or the staff?"
"The patients!"
"Uh let's see…"
"LOOK OUT SHE'S…!" Came a yell, and the radio abruptly cut out.
"Oh dear." Dr. Phale said, as he got up and headed for the door. "Mr. Oz despite our disagreements it would be best…!"
But when Dr. Phale went through the door, he found the hallway empty. Noel had moved on. Normally, Dr. Phale would have looked for him, but the possibility of an angry, psychotic patient stalking the hallways without any help currently available was something that didn't appeal to him, like any smart person. So instead, he headed back into his office and locked the door, picking up the radio on the desk.
"To anyone who can hear me and spare the attention, we have an unescorted patient in Ward 3, it's quite possible he's heading for his room in Ward 2, any danger he may present is unknown but he is unescorted…"
Noel didn't really know where he was, but he could read room numbers well enough, even with how dark the hallways were (shouldn't there have been more emergency lights?), so he figured it would only be a matter of time before he found his room. Of course, if it was locked, he was going to be stuck outside it, which would make him look pretty foolish overall for walking off, but he wasn't going to stay around with Dr. Phale, and if the MHA's couldn't be bothered to hang around, he couldn't be bothered to wait for them.
The moonlight shone in through a window as Noel walked past it, checking a door number as he did so…
Which let him see the shadow flash across the dim glow that was placed on the door.
Which gave him enough indication to turn around as the weighted club swung out and impacted across the left side of Noel's forehead, stars exploding in his vision as he tumbled to the ground. Maybe it might have been better if he HADN'T seen it coming.
"You fucking asshole!" Tyler Armand snarled, as he brutally kicked Noel in the ribs, knocking the air out of him, even as his partner Alphonse Lane moved around Noel to cut off any escape and bring his own club down on Noel's side as he tried to recover, knocking him to the ground. The two orderlies had not been fired as Noel had requested, but their suspensions without pay (which had ended yesterday) and the fact the staff were still investigating Noel's claims (which meant they hadn't decided he was fully at fault) had been enough to drive them to irrational hatred.
Irrational enough that they'd purposely caused the 'error' that had resulted in the psychotic Rebecca being freed, under the assumption the staff was too well prepared and experienced to be harmed by her, and anyone else, who cared?
But not irrational enough that they neglected to do something like keep an ear on their radios. Which is how they'd found Noel, and had ultimately pulled the trigger on their plan of revenge against the patient: he was alone, in a dark hallway, with everyone else somewhere else at the moment.
And he'd hurt and humiliated them. To men like Tyler and Alphonse, even if things hadn't favored them as well as they had, that was enough.
Men like Tyler and Alphonse never learned the lessons they were supposed to, as they rained down club blows on Noel's thrashing form, blood splattering on the floor and walls before a good blow to Noel's head left him stunned on the ground.
"Get him up! Get the fucker up!" Tyler snarled, as Alphonse wrestled Noel's dead weight up. "This is WHAT!" Tyler yelled, punching Noel in the stomach as hard as he could. "YOU GET!" Another punch, to the ribs. "FOR FUCKING WITH US, LOONY!" Repeated blows slammed into Noel's face, before Tyler picked up the club he'd stolen from a locked storeroom (such weapons were just about phased out in asylums, but the Edge City hospital still had a few at the front desk and backups in storage) and smashed Noel across the face with it again, knocking him down to the floor with a spray of blood.
Tyler and Alphonse stomped on him several more times before they finally grew tired, as the two stopped to catch their breath.
"Let's blow this joint. Nighty night shithead." Alphonse said, spitting on Noel's prone, shattered form, as he and Tyler turned to leave…
As Noel's arms lunged out, as he thrust them around Tyler's right and Alphonse's left ankle, respectively, locking them between his elbows in a death grip.
"WHAT THE FUCK! LEGGO!" Tyler yelled, as he brought his club down on Noel's body. But Noel would not relinquish his death grip, even as Alphonse struck himself, banging Noel on the back of his head.
Anger gave way to panic as Tyler and Alphonse rained down a new assault of blows on Noel's arms, head, and body, and even accounting for the fact that Noel's hold on them screwed up their leverage somewhat, they were still landing solid, vicious strikes. But Noel would not let go, as the two orderlies began to freak out and scream. Why couldn't he be knocked out? Why couldn't his arms be broken? Why couldn't they crack his skull or his spine and get him to release them, as they dragged him down the hallway, screaming and hammering him.
Which is how the security found them, drawn by the noise of the two orderlies, having come running after subduing the two escaped patients with the idea that another had gotten free to cause trouble. Instead, they found two workers who seemed quite intent to beat a patient to death, even though he WAS holding onto them.
That didn't much register on the security though, as they quickly swarmed on the two orderlies, taking their clubs away and restraining them, even as another MHA tried to break Noel's deathgrip on their legs…
Which happened almost immediately, as Noel let go, becoming a limp, bloody mess on the ground.
"…he jumped us! We had to defend ourselves! He was going to kill us!" Tyler yelled in protestation.
"Even so…" Said Dr. Hastings, who had appeared shortly after the security had broken the 'fight' up. "Why do you have weapons, Mr.'s Armand and Lane? More importantly, why do you have weapons we only keep in the front desk, where you have never been assigned?"
The two orderlies looked hopelessly at the doctor, who gave them a deep glare in response.
And Noel coughed on the ground, his whole body in agony…but in the end, unbowed.
Dr. Sidlakus found him forty minutes later, having just heard of the incident due to the chaos of the previous two patient escapes. Noel was back in the infirmary, and while he wasn't restrained this time, he might as well have been with the amount of bandages the nurses were putting on him. His face was a swollen, blackening mess, although his eye sockets seemed only lightly (and remarkably so) bruised, which let him actually see Dr. Sidlakus as a nurse moved out of his line of view.
"…I told you you should have fired those two." He said quietly.
"It wasn't my call, but I did ask for them to be fired before this happened. The superintendent had reassigned them to another ward on a last chance after their suspension, but he didn't expect this." Dr. Sidlakus said. "They are fired now though, and the superintendent plans to file civil and criminal charges against them."
"And if they'd left me dead in that hallway and slipped away?" Noel asked.
"Considering that the evidence that they came to work, were nowhere to be found while the incident happened, and that they had a grudge against you, they would be tried for murder and probably executed after a while. But that didn't happen, which surprises the lot of us. Your injuries aren't as severe as one would expect; you're either very lucky or very blessed to have come out of that alive, let alone without a body cast. How are you feeling?"
"We gave him some morphine." One of the nurses said.
"That's good, but how are you feeling, Mr. Oz?"
"…I've had worse then this." Noel said as he closed his eyes. "In a certain way, it's a blessing. Pain is oddly…clarifying."
"Why's that?"
"…there are some things…that occur to me…doctor, if there is some abrupt complication, you have my permission to read my files…and I ask you a favor. In the superintendent's office, there is a chest no key can open. Should I die…take it and find the biggest furnace you can. And burn what's inside. My trace…I don't have a lot of hope for it."
"You aren't going to die, Alex. And I'm not just being kind; the physicians found no internal bleeding, only minor bone fractures, and no organ damage. It may not feel wonderful, but you'll be just fine in about a week when all the swelling and bruises fade."
"…Doctor Sid…the murk is descending…I have just a moment…a hand slinks here. A dark burning visage…but it is NOT OF THE ONES I FELLED…it twists my…" Noel said as he trailed off, his eyes growing duller. "Pain…it is my path. This pain…what does it mean?"
"Alex?"
"I don't think I want to leave my room any more. Every step a snare, every word a trigger, every beam of light a reminder of all I failed in."
"That won't help you Alex. Memory doesn't just go away, even if we bury it."
"…was it a test?"
"What?"
"Nothing…I still wish you'd fired those guys Dr. Sid. Obvious reasons aside." Noel said. "And I'm up while the dawn is breaking, even though my heart is aching, I should be drinking a toast to absent friends…instead of these comedians."
And then Noel closed his eyes and dozed off.
"…hmmm. Miss Matthews, where is the physician in charge? I need to make sure Mr. Oz is watched while he recovers: I don't think he'll be self destructive like before, but better to be safe than sorry."
"I believe its Dr. Walker. I think he briefly left to get something from his office."
"I'll go to him then." Dr. Sidlakus said, as he headed out of the infirmary, leaving Noel with the nurses.
Dr. Sidlakus had a good reason for wanting to speak to the physician in charge: not only did he want more in-depth report on Noel's injuries, but he also wanted to know what Noel was doing unescorted after lights out in the wrong ward.
Yet, despite talking to Dr. Walker and several orderlies (who still quite hadn't recovered from the crazy events of that night, and hence may not have had the best recollection), Dr. Sidlakus found no answers to his question that night.
The Internet.
Back in the 60's, the Department of Defense laid the concrete for what would become the global village. There's nothing concrete about it though. Oh sure, everything else became slow and cumbersome. Messages were sent in electronic signals, chat rooms brought thousands of strangers together in seconds, and at your fingertips lay a seemingly endless stream of food, entertainment, product, and sustenance.
A place where those who were alike could all come together, where no matter how off or strange or sick or bizarre your opinion was, one could find someone to listen to.
Yet isn't it strange…
How studies show…
That the more time people spend in this virtual world with all their fellows…
The more isolated they become?
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 11th, 200X
From Dr. Luke Sidlakus
Another incident has occurred. Earlier tonight, two patients escaped from their rooms and wreaked havoc. One other patient was injured, as were a few MHA's, but they were detained soon enough. However, the two orderlies that had had a confrontation with Mr. Oz a few days ago used the opportunity to attack him with clubs from the main security desk. They had just returned from suspension for antagonizing him before, so they apparently felt entitled to revenge. Somehow he is remarkably uninjured compared to how brutally they beat him, but he will still be in the infirmary for a few days. He is heavily bruised, has several minor fractures, and possibly has a concussion. The two were immediately arrested and will be sued for damages.
Mr. Oz's state of mind is difficult to pinpoint. His disorientation may be due to head trauma, but he seems more depressed. He gave me permission to see his files should something happen to him, and he wants me to destroy the contents of a chest he left in the superintendent's care if he dies. I attempted to explain that he was not dying, despite his pain, but he mentioned seeing a "dark, burning visage" while in the infirmary. It's difficult to interpret the meaning of his hallucination; hopefully I can question him when he recovers.
What surprised me most about the incident is that Mr. Oz did not fight back. The two orderlies that attacked him had no injuries or marks of any sort of struggle. The only act he committed was to cling to their legs. It's difficult to say if he did not attack them because of his own choice or because he was caught off guard.
I've already developed questions for him since his last visit to the infirmary, and I've already noted the newer topics, so now I simply have to wait for him to recover. I will plead my case to the superintendent for the files, but I have little faith that I will gain access.
I fear that if Mr. Oz does not benefit from my treatment, his stay here may do more harm than good with all these terrible occurrences.
In the poem 'For The Want Of A Nail', an improperly shoed horse sets in motion a chain of events that brings down a kingdom. In a way, the events of the next day had been set in motion ever since Tyler and Alphonse had first crossed the doorway into Room 13, a room that was definitely proving to be an ill omen.
"Thank you all for coming. I have called you here due to the events of yesterday, which as far as I can tell, is far from normal at this hospital. As I have been brought here to specifically treat violent patients, I have decided to announce a few proposed changes that will be voted on later. I will be as brief as possible." Dr. Phale said to the gathered security, MHA's, doctors, and nurses. "First off, there is the consideration of…"
Dr. Phale did mean well, and yesterday had been a bad day. But in his reaction to the events, Dr. Phale had called an extensive meeting of the staff of the mental hospital, leaving just a skeleton crew to oversee things, as he performed his meeting in a large office that was rather far away from the wards and common rooms.
But that was all right: any potential troublemakers had been tranquilized beforehand, and there were still a few orderlies around in case of trouble, not to mention a nurse or two. With the fact that only the calmer people were allowed in common rooms at the hour of that afternoon, there should have been no problem.
And there wouldn't have.
Normally.
But not today.
His name was Dutch 'Vicious' Valentine (well, that was his name now, it had once been the far less impressive 'Duane Valenstein'), and he was a professional football player, currently playing for the Star City Steelclaws. A transplanted resident of the deep south when he was 10, Dutch's puberty had seen him grow massively into a hulking mass of muscle: football had been the obvious choice for such a large man and Dutch had smashed his way through high school, college, and into the professional leagues as a defensive and offensive tackle with a nasty temper. He'd been playing in the pros for about five years, three of them for the Steelclaws, and the past two years had gone well for the team, with whispers that with luck, a Super Bowl ring might be theirs this year or sometime soon. Unfortunately, the amount of fame that being a professional athlete on a winning team was usually inverse to how well the person could handle it, and Valentine fell under that category, due to the usual 'work hard, play harder' mindset many professional athletes adopted as well as the fact that he really wasn't the greatest human being to begin with (he was nicknamed 'Vicious' for a reason, and had been the victim of more then a few penalty flags). The usual problems with drugs and reckless behavior had followed, with Valentine catching several misdemeanors over the past 18 months.
Unfortunately, last night it had finally gone over the edge, as the Steelclaws were in town to play the Edge City Scimitars. Valentine had gone out, like many of his fellows, to party. What he alone had done was smoke or snorted something that had apparently been laced with PCP.
PCP, aka phencyclidine, more commonly known as Angel Dust, was a psychotropic drug that had originally been conceived of as an anesthetic before its side effects caused it to be shelved. It had various drastic effects on the nervous system, including hallucinations, and in more then a few cases had been demonstrated, by itself or in combination with other drugs, to drive its users into a psychotic, uncontrollable state made worse by the fact that the drug did retain some of its anesthetic properties, resulting in the user feeling less pain at the time, hence removing certain limits that most humans operated under. PCP had been known to turn small, weak people into raging maniacs that several people could not restrain.
In the system of someone like Dutch Valentine, the term 'recipe for disaster' didn't even begin to cover it. Dutch had gone on a tear that had nearly resulted in him bringing down the whole nightclub with his bare hands, as well as injuring various bouncers, police officers, some of his own teammates, and more then a few bystanders. He had finally been restrained long enough for the drug to wear off, which had caused the athlete to crash terribly as the flood of chemicals to his brain was cut off, almost putting him in a stupor.
If he'd been anyone else, he probably would have ended up in a jail cell. But he was a CELEBRITY, and hence was entitled to special treatment.
Though to be fair, there was probably some intelligence behind the choice. There was no guarantee the drug was done, and it would probably be best to have the large, violent man in a padded cell where he couldn't hurt himself or others. Not to mention he might be in danger by being in jail, even if it was just from the media. Plus, his agent had claimed he'd long suspected that his client had a disorder of somethingorother: perhaps he was lying, but perhaps he wasn't.
And so things had been arranged so that Dutch Valentine found himself quietly being brought to and into the Edge City Asylum that day for a few days' observation and treatment to decide how to best handle the whole mess.
With some difficulty, as the aforementioned crash seemed to have completely wiped Valentine out. He was upright and moving somewhat on his own, but he clearly needed the help of the two orderlies to actually go anywhere, as he was escorted in, his head slumped down and his feet dragging. Two long strands of artificial braided hair hung down over his head: one of the things Valentine liked to do, when he was in a better mood, was poke fun at the concept that because he was a southerner he had to be a racist (he wasn't), and one of his antics recently had been to 'prove' dreadlocks would look as good on him as they would on a black man. Not having the patience to grow his blonde hair out from the short cut he currently had, Valentine had simply gotten professional hair extensions. Whether the fake dreads had looked good on him or not was a matter of personal opinion: virtually all the extensions were gone, lost in the chaos of Valentine's drugged frenzy. The nurse on duty watched the sole survivors wave back and forth as the orderlies brought him to the front desk.
"Patient delivery. Number's 4419. Who's the attending physician we need to deliver this guy to?" The orderly on the left asked.
"Uh…um…what the? Damn it, the head nurse must have taken those files to consult again. Geezus, she has a memory like a sieve!" The nurse at the desk complained.
"Oh great. Now what do we do with tall, dark, and drooling here?" The orderly on Valentine's right complained.
"Best take him to Ward 6 and get him settled, just in case. That's across the building though: go down the left hallway, hang a left, then go in the forth door to the right, then go right once you reach the bottom of the stairs, and then one more left. Just pay attention and you should get there all right."
"Yeah yeah…" Orderly 1 (the one on the left of Valentine) said as he grudgingly began escorting the football player's large, resistant form along with his fellow, heading across the building to Ward 6.
As you might have guessed, the two MHA's hadn't retained the directions as well as they claimed.
"Weren't we supposed to go right at these stairs?"
"No, it was the next door."
"No, I was certain we went right…!"
A few more exchanges like this quickly led to the inevitable: the pair were lost.
"Okay, fine, let's find some staff and get a guide or something…geez, what's going on, where is everybody…" Orderly 2 said as they continued down the hallways, which were as empty as ever.
Noel was sitting on his bed in the infirmary, leaning against the wall with a few cushions propped against his back, trying to find a comfortable position when the MHA opened the door, Noel blinking his eyes open at the sound.
"Hey! There any staff in here?" The MHA asked Noel, hoping the patient had enough brainpower to give SOME kind of an answer.
"Uh…there was…the nurse who was here, I think she went to the common room down the hall for a moment." Noel said.
"Obliged. Come on, we should find someone down the hall." Orderly 1 said as he closed the door and Noel reclined back against the wall, his body aching all over.
The MHA's continued down the hallway, taking their escort with them: he'd said and done nothing during the whole trip.
Maybe that should have served as a warning.
"Whoa!" Cindy said as the orderlies brought Valentine into the common room, as she looked at his massive form and exaggeratedly licked her lips. "I volunteer to let him stay in my room!"
"Keep it down Jess." Elijah Morrison said, addressing Cindy by her last name. With virtually all staff called away at the meeting, he had to be careful to keep things under control in the common room, though at the time the patients in it were all pretty much considered harmless (even Cindy was mostly bark and she tended to direct her bite at more overtly annoying things)
"Awwwwwwwwwwww." Cindy complained, but she settled down as asked, as Orderly 2 went up to the nursing station and tapped on the window to get the nurse's attention.
As Cindy, sitting and playing solitaire, happened to glance up again…as she saw Valentine's head snap up and his body go as taunt as a wire.
For you see, whatever Dutch Valentine had ingested last night, it had not been laced with PCP. Or to be specific, classic PCP.
What Dutch had ingested was an immensely dangerous new PCP variant/cocktail that had been dubbed 'Loop', which took advantage of the fact that PCP took a long time to break down in the body. Unlike PCP, which generally only had one period of intense effect, Loop used certain chemical markers to cause the usual effects the drug had, followed by a sudden and severe crash that could induce full blown catatonia in certain victims, a state which lasted anywhere from 12 to 18 hours…at which point the drug reactivated at an even worse level of potency via some chemical 'magic tricks', hence causing a 'loop' of the effects. The second period did not last very long, but that was beside the point: whoever had designed and spread the drug clearly indicated it to do harm, as people assumed the drug had worn off and did not properly restrain its users half the time.
And Dutch, having been so out of it, was not in a straightjacket. He wasn't even handcuffed.
And even if he had been, it might not have made a single bit of difference, as the first orderly reacted to the sudden, furious tension that rippled across Valentine's body by turning towards him…as Valentine bellowed in pure animal fury and lashed out with his arm, smashing it across the orderly's chest and sending him flying several feet before he crashed down to the floor.
"HOLY…!" Elijah yelled as Valentine smashed aside the orderly, who was a fair sized man himself, like he was a toy doll, even as the second orderly whirled around…and Valentine seized a nearby chair and hurled it across the room, causing it to shatter against the far wall and causing a ripple of screams to erupt from the room as the patients began to panic.
"Holy shit! Who pissed in his cornflakes!?!" Cindy yelled, as Elijah sprang up, even as the first orderly tried to restrain Dutch Valentine and the nurse hit the alarm, which began sounding throughout the floors.
"What the blazes?" Dr. Phale said as he looked up from his notes: he was just about done and now…there was trouble. With pretty much every staff member in this room. SHIT!
And in the infirmary, Noel blinked his eyes open.
"Stay clear Cindy!" Elijah yelled as he charged across the room…as Valentine effortlessly threw the orderly off of him and suddenly charged, barreling into Elijah and smashing him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him as he fell down on top of him. Whatever Dutch was hallucinating he was seeing, he couldn't express it in words, his voice a mindless howl as he smashed his fists down on Elijah's head, knocking him senseless despite the MHA managing a partial guard with his forearms. Valentine raised said arms to strike again, before the first orderly jumped him, trying to restrain him from behind as the nurse rushed in with a needle filled with lorazepam, a powerful tranquilizer.
And the common room patients continued to scream, fueled by the noise and Valentine's inhuman howls.
As Noel opened the infirmary door and looked out, drawn by the racket and the alarm, and more specifically, the screaming. It sounded like a torture chamber, and in a way it was: exposed to unexpected and unprotected stimuli, the patients in the common room were very well being tortured by their illnesses.
"What the hell is going on? SECURITY! WE HAVE A PROBLEM! SECURITY!" Noel yelled down the hallway. But no one came to his call.
As Valentine lashed out, striking the nurse with his arm and sending the small woman flying as she crashed to the floor, the syringe of tranquilizer shattering as Valentine reached behind himself and seized the orderly trying to control him, and even as he got up he hurled him, partially over his shoulder and partially around his body, his overlarge muscles exploding with adrenaline, as the orderly sailed through the air and slammed into the wall by the door with a sickening crack before tumbling limply to the ground.
A sight that made Noel's eyes widen.
"What the hell…"
"Oh shit." Cindy said, her own eyes wide as Valentine turned towards the screaming patients, the noise like stinging insects in his head, most of the patients unaware of the fact they were angering an out of control giant. Cindy knew though, and turned and ran, heading for the nearest door.
Only to find out the hard way another downside of having such a low head count for staff: to ensure no patients ran away, Elijah had locked two of the three entrances out of the room, the only open one being the way Dutch and his escorts had come in, and the football player was between that one and the patients. Cindy found herself locked in, hammering on the reinforced door.
"Oh shit! HELP! HELP!" Cindy screamed, as Valentine stalked towards the patients…and the first orderly leapt on him again, having finally gotten up from the terrible blow Valentine had dealt him. The pair wrestled and struggled for several seconds…before Valentine managed to dump the orderly on the ground and kick him as hard as he could, shattering several ribs and sending the orderly flying up into the air and down on the card table, shattering it as the patients screamed even louder, some trying to retreat like Cindy, others trying to hide, and others lost in their own diseased minds.
"…security…" Noel said, as he looked down the hallway and then helplessly back to the room. No one was coming…
…no one could help.
…right?
…no.
As Noel stared for another second…and then slipped back into the infirmary, trembling violently.
The door swung shut…
And then slammed open as Noel re-emerged, carrying a chair that he swung up and smashed into the glass window of a fire prevention case in the hallway. No one else was coming. So be it.
Cindy, finally realizing the door wasn't going to open, whirled around as Valentine stalked towards the noisy annoyances, his eyes burning like someone had lit a fire in his head, a streak of bloody drool running from his mouth, as he reached out for the nearest patient…
"HEY ASSHOLE!"
Something slammed into Valentine's back, and he whirled around with a snarl…
As Noel blasted the fire extinguisher in his face, the acrid powder spraying into Valentine's eyes, nose, and mouth and causing him to recoiling and stumble around, screaming and hacking as his face burned, as he staggered away from the patients and Noel tossed down the extinguisher and picked up the axe he had liberated from the fire case. He'd removed the actual axe head, but the end of the bare wood rod still made a very effective club.
"If he comes near them again, use that!" Noel yelled as Cindy, and charged, swinging the club he'd made out and slamming it into Valentine's gut. Valentine didn't even blink, but he was still blind and hence could only lunge in Noel's rough direction, which Noel dodged around, swinging up the club and slamming repeated, vicious blows with everything he had down on Valentine's back. Valentine lunged at Noel again, but Noel dodged once more and slammed the club against the side of Valentine's knee, causing him to fall to the ground on the other, as Noel smashed the club across his face and then did so again in the other direction, blood spraying from the wound.
Valentine blinked, and then he lunged forward and crashed into Noel, sending them tumbling across the floor. Noel squirmed free and sprang up, ramming the club end first into Valentine's chest, and then as the out of control athlete briefly gasped for air Noel stepped back and swung as hard as he could.
Valentine grabbed it this time, and as Noel's eyes widened Valentine swung the weapon in turn, Noel so surprised he didn't let go as Valentine whirled him around and then sent him flying across the room, where Noel crashed into one of the fences covering the windows so hard he shattered the glass, causing the patients to scream anew as he fell to the ground.
Noel hit hard, his whole body in screaming agony, the adrenaline Noel had been feeling finally not matching up the sheer pain he was in after last night's beating at the hands of the two orderlies, not to mention the new pain Valentine had just so graciously given him. Stunned by his agonies, Noel was only vaguely aware of the giant's shadow falling on him…
As the mad football player pounced, hammering and tearing at Noel as he tried to rip him apart, Noel retreating into a fetal position as the terrible blows rained down on him, as Valentine bellowed and snarled, slamming blow after blow on Noel's fallen form.
As he was blasted in the back by the fire extinguisher.
"GET OFF HIM YOU COCKSUCKER!" Cindy screamed, spraying the lunatic once more to ensure she had his attention, as Valentine whirled around and Cindy backed up, spraying at him once more with the fire extinguisher…
As it finally ran dry, konking out before it could re-blind the now recovered in that sense Valentine, as he snarled and went for Cindy. Cindy screamed and tried hurling the red canister at the maniac, but she lacked the strength to do any damage as it bounced off Valentine's front as he went for her, the small girl retreating in a panic…
As he lunged out and grabbed her wrist, the girl screaming as he dragged her towards him…
And Noel slammed the extinguisher into the back of Valentine's head, sending him reeling forward and releasing his grip on Cindy, who fled. Valentine, dazed but not down, turned around…as Noel smashed the length of the canister across his face and sent bloody teeth spraying from Valentine's mouth as he staggered…but stayed up.
"DAMN IT! GO DOWN!" Noel snarled, barely able to stand himself from the way his body was screaming at him, as he charged and tried to ram the end of the extinguisher into Valentine's gut.
Valentine grabbed it in mid ram, thrusting the canister upward and causing Noel to lose his grip as Valentine tossed it aside, as Valentine swung out a fist and smashed Noel across the face, knocking him down.
Valentine tried to pounce once more, but Noel sprang up with unbelievable reflex and returned the punch, ducking and weaving briefly around the athlete's attacks and smashing repeated blows into Valentine's forehead as he tried everything he had left to bring the giant down…
As Valentine broke through his guard with sheer force, clamping his huge fingers around Noel's throat, and as Noel's air was cut off completely, Valentine lifted him right off the ground and then swung down, smashing Noel violently into the floor before hoisting him back up in one smooth motion and spinning around to hurl him through the air with another frenzied roar.
Noel flew into the nurse's station, smashed through the hard plastic barrier between it and the common room like it wasn't there, crashing down and through the room/office as shattered pieces of synthetic glass rained down around him. He did not get back up.
As Valentine turned back to the screaming patients, snarling and stalking towards them, as Cindy retreated, throwing everything she could get her hands on at the unstoppable, out of control monster as he closed in to rip her apart…
She saw a blur of movement.
And then the white sheet was thrown over Valentine's head as Noel ran up behind him, tossed the tightly rolled linen he'd grabbed up from the nurse's office over the football player, and then yanked and bore back as hard as he could, garroting Valentine with the makeshift noose. Valentine's forward momentum was stopped dead, as he went into a frenzy, trying to free himself as Noel himself tried to hold on, as Valentine thrashed around, banging off the walls as Noel tried to keep him away from the patients.
Valentine roared, and something in Noel snapped.
"DAMN IT WHEN I SAY GO DOWN, YOU FUCKING WELL GO DOWN!" Noel said, as he twisted the sheet into an x shape behind Valentine, switched grips with his hands…and then ran forward and leapt, flipping over Valentine and landing right in front of him, almost pressed up against the football player's massive body as he pulled back on the sheet as hard as he could, having now completely wrapped the linen around Valentine's neck as he yanked with all his might, constricting the tight sheet around Valentine's neck as he gagged and lashed out at Noel, punching him in the face and chest, but Noel wouldn't let go, he was in the zone, he would stop this man because no one else could…
"GO. DOWN." Noel hissed through split lips. "You still need to breathe. Your brain still needs blood. You have neither. GO. DOWN."
Valentine hammered and thrashed, but his struggles were weakening, his movements growing sluggish, as Noel cranked back even harder. Valentine fell to one knee, then the other, feebly pawing at Noel…and then his arms went limp, his body leaning against Noel's as it lost the ability to keep itself upright, his face turning an odd shade of dark purple as he jerked, twitched, and then went still.
Noel held the grip for another ten seconds to be sure, and then he released the sheet and pushed Valentine over, the giant football player thudding to the ground like a fallen tree.
The room had gone oddly silent, save for Noel's heavy breathing, as he looked down on the giant with eyes as intense as a star's.
As Cindy came up behind him, patting him on the shoulder as she began to say "Wicked, man…"
As Noel whirled, his mind still in a state of instinctual threat, as he smashed Cindy across the face with a backhand before he realized what he was doing.
The realization came a second later.
"…no." Noel said, as he realized what he had done. "…no…wait…" Noel stammered, as he looked down at Cindy, holding her face in hurt shock, unable to believe that Noel had hit her. "…No! No no! It was an accident! I thought…no…no…" Noel babbled, as Cindy's look pieced right through, that look of betrayal in her current fresh state of pain.
"No…No…nooooooooooooo…" Noel wailed as he backed up, his back thudding against the wall as he slid down and began rocking. "I'm…not the bad guy…I'm not the bad guy…please…don't make me the bad guy…noooooooooooo…"
As Cindy recovered from her brief surprise and pain, as she realized that had been an accident, she'd startled him…and in her inevitable response, she'd perhaps set in motion something that was also inevitable.
For the want of a nail…
All was lost.
Security arrived roughly twenty seconds later.
They did manage to be of some use, properly restraining and taking Valentine away for treatment, while others tended to Noel, the injured staff, and the traumatized patients. Others tried to get to get what had happened out of other patients, but in the end only Cindy proved clear enough to talk.
"He protected us." She said, still somewhat dazed. "That fucking lunatic would have killed us all…but he ran in and protected us. He just wouldn't stay down…" Cindy said.
"Excuse me…" Came a voice, as Dr. Phale headed over to the small woman. "How did he stop him?"
"He…he choked him out with a sheet…actually let himself be punched so he could…nothing else worked…" Cindy tried to explain.
"What else did he try?"
"Well…he hit with a stick…and punched him and…what the fuck does this matter? Where the fuck were YOU?" Cindy accused.
"We don't exactly expect a new patient that appears to be drugged to be brought to the common room and suddenly attack the patients while a majority of staff is in a meeting."
Cindy stared at Phale for a moment…and then she reared back and spat on him.
"Fuck you, asshole. Cover your fucking ass. Piece of shit." Cindy hissed, and lapsed into a sullen silence.
Phale sighed and produced a handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping off Cindy's 'venom' as he turned to a nearby security guard.
"Have the two instigators been taken to the infirmary?"
"Yes doctor. Separate ones, to be safe. We fully restrained the supposed aggressor and the other gave us no trouble."
"Right. Well make sure those who need to fill out incident reports of what happened here, and tell the doctors I need to speak with them as well, they should try and speak with their patients when they've calmed down. Also, I need to speak to Dr. Sidlakus about this. Has anyone seen him?"
For the third time in a week, Dr. Sidlakus found himself visiting a patient in the infirmary, an event that usually had months of time between them, as he approached the nurses trying to tend to Noel's rocking, tremulous form.
"He's somewhat unresponsive to treatment doctor. He's not resisting but he won't stop rocking like that. We gave him a mild sedative but it persists." A nurse said.
"Alex? Are you alright?" Dr. Sidlakus asked.
"…not the bad guy…not the bad guy…" Noel whispered, but he was clearly speaking to the air. "Give me a sign…not the bad guy…not the bad guy…"
"Alex, you aren't a bad guy. You just saved a room full of patients." Dr. Sidlakus said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Noel was gone again, lost in the same torments that had consumed him once, and perhaps had taken him for good now.
No good deed goes unpunished.
"….nurses, make sure you treat him as a catatonic when attending to his injuries." Dr. Sidlakus sighed, as he watched all the work he had done float away on the back of several cruel coincidences.
Noel had spoken like he was under the pall of an ill portent. Despite himself, Dr. Sidlakus couldn't help but wonder if that were in some way true.
A strange incident occurred today. While I was leading a meeting about the new methods and treatments to be used for the violent patients of Ward Six, a new patient (ironically, being led to Ward Six) was accidentally brought to the common room where he attacked the orderlies and the patients. The physician found a high level of a PCP variant in his system, which is most likely the cause for such a sudden change in his appearance; the orderlies did not restrain him since he had seemed calm and quiet.
Stranger still, Mr. Oz came to the rescue of the patients. I find it incredible that he not only could bring down such a wild and strong opponent, but that he did it less than twenty-four hours after being beaten nearly to death by two orderlies. Given his injuries were not lethal, he still suffered from intense pain and weakness even with medication, let alone attempting to move quickly and powerfully enough for a fight. Besides that show of determination, Mr. Oz was also lucid enough to consider strategy while fighting the new patient; he used misdirection, blinded the patient with foam from a fire extinguisher, used the extinguisher to beat the patient back, thought enough to remove the head of an ax from the stem to avoid using lethal force and to protect himself from lethal force if the patient wrestled it from him, and finally used a rolled sheet to strangle the patient until he passed out. Even the orderlies, who were trained to handle wild patients regardless of their size or strength, were not able to use such techniques properly. To end the incident, Mr. Oz also struck a female patient by accident before curling up and mumbling about being a villain.
After gaining access to his files, I've developed a theory about his behavior and "illness". Mr. Oz does not come across as the typical patient to begin with. Unlike Doctor Sidlakus, who believes he suffers from a dissocative disorder, I suspect that Mr. Oz suffers from Munchausen syndrome. He put himself in danger and courts suffering in order to gain attention and respect. His dissociative episodes seem to begin as self-reproach for losing others' attention or becoming a "bad guy", then he regresses to gain attention once again. While these incidences are in fact coincidences, I believe he uses the opportunities to act up and become a sensation in the asylum instead of another number on a form. He is also calculating, aggressive, and confident when confronted by patients who do not have sympathy for him. This manipulation of other patients and staff will make his treatment very difficult, but still possible.
His past only confirms my beliefs. His identity as a "hero" seems more like a cry for attention, and when confronted by the media and slandered, he suddenly disappeared for months, and eventually reappeared here. While his whereabouts are not explained, I have a feeling he began "developing" this illness to eventually act out and become a patient so he could have a stage to perform to without a hint of his true nature since his file was off limits.
After his mistake, Mr. Oz dove back into his catatonia to hide out until he's healed and has a chance to redeem himself to the other patients. I will have a few surprises waiting for him when he does. He may be a difficult case, but he will see the truth and accept it, one way or another.
-Dr. Phale
Entry for Patient No 2522, Alexander Oz
July 20th, 200X
From Dr. Luke Sidlakus
While Dr. Phale was conducting a meeting with most of the doctors and orderlies, a new patient was brought in. The orderlies escorting him to Ward Six got lost, and while asking for directions from a nurse in the common room, the patient suddenly awoke and attacked them in a "blind rage". He is a PCP user, so I can assume a delayed reaction instigated this sudden attack. Mr. Oz heard the commotion down the hall and defended the patients, despite his injuries, and eventually subdued him. Another patient, Miss Jessick, told the orderlies that she tried to congratulate him when he slapped her, possibly still tense from the incident and acting instinctually when she touched him. He immediately apologized for it and broke down, repeating that he did not want to be the "bad guy", most likely due to the extreme stress and physical pain. By the time I visited him in the infirmary, he was mumbling and rocking back and forth. I attempted to communicate with him, but he was unresponsive and eventually fell silent, unmoving.
Mr. Oz has reverted into a deep state of depersonalization. He's removed himself from reality completely. I doubt he will recover from this fugue as quickly as he had in the others due to the unusual amount of stress, helplessness, and despair he's suffered in the recent incidents. While this instance where he saved the patients should have assured him that he can help people and is not being controlled (since he chose to go beyond his limitations and protect the patients), the fact that he also injured Miss Jessick turned that possibility into an example of his violent nature. It's likely Mr. Oz believed that while he can use that tendency to help people, he is ultimately something dangerous and irresponsible, hence the "bad guy". Despite her good intentions, it may have been better had Miss Jessick never approached Mr. Oz after the fight.
The only good that came from the incident is that I was finally given access to Mr. Oz's file. The superintendent realized that he would be very difficult to treat if the information remained out of my hands in light of the situation. I'm somewhat grateful that I can eliminate schizophrenia from the possible illnesses, considering I thought most of those references were delusions or nonsense, but I must also be careful when I approach him with this information. While I'm hopeful that Mr. Oz will recover from this fugue, I can't be certain of the timing or his state of mind if, and when, he does. I may have to completely start his treatment over, rebuild his trust in myself and the staff, then reveal that I know who he is and how that can benefit his treatment. Unfortunately, he could react badly, ashamed that I would know who he is and what's happened to him, which may force him back into his catatonia. However, that must wait until he recovers.
His past also helps to clarify his self-perception. In essence, he feels that he cannot fulfill (what he believes to be) his duty as a hero because he was manipulated into performing some awful act, probably by his father. The file contains nothing about what actually triggered his sudden illness, and nothing about his family, so I can only assume it was excluded to protect his legal identity. Sadly, that will make treatment difficult since I must treat him for a breakdown with a cause that is not in the files and will probably not be divulged, by his teammates or himself.
What I can deduce is that he most likely became a hero to avoid becoming like his father, but the skills and methods he once used to protect people now remind him of how they are similar. This would explain how he is torn between his duty as a hero and the repulsion of his father's influence on him. I'm sure his father is unaware of his identity as a hero; otherwise he would have made it known or tried to contact him in an effort to manipulate his recovery. I'll have to convince him that his skills are not solely influenced by his father, but by other experiences, especially in his line of work. I must be careful not to miscommunicate that he is immune to his father's influence or that his father influenced his team and work, or else he could become paranoid or overly confident. Hopefully, his lucidity and intelligence will overcome his despair after some of the treatments so he can understand and appreciate the difference.
Of course, this plan hinges on the possibility that Mr. Oz may not recover; I'm unsure if he will, but if he does, at least now I know how to treat him and how to interpret his words.
If he does not recover, I'm not sure how he will cope with the stress. Dissociative patients often create their own world in their minds in order to replace a reality they cannot accept. I suspect that possibility because he seeks acceptance and wants to participate in the world, but only as an independent person, free of his father's influence and genuinely helping people. That desire may lead to this result. Unfortunately, I'll never know until he wakes up from his depersonalized state.
Until he does, I'll research possible treatments. If contacting his teammates will aid him, I will, but only as a last resort. I don't want to damage their faith in his recovery; it's unnecessary. I'll have him exposed to other patients in case they can elicit a response that wakes him, but in small doses and distant from each other. He feels he needs to rest from reality for a reason, and I will not attempt to force him back; it would only be detrimental to his mind.
It's likely he will remain here for a very long time. I hope that is not the case; if the world can wear down heroes who would defend the helpless so completely, perhaps the world has become too cruel to fix anymore.
What's next?
Microchips in the head? Reading each other's minds?
I'm sure some people are working on that. Too late. It's been done. By those you would think the least likely to do: a tribe in Australia, living in the still vast and untamed wilderness, managing, just barely, to stay out of the reach of progress.
They didn't achieve their gift through the next big tool of mankind or whatever shiny new toy a supposed genius thought up. They did it by staying with the original way. The Aboriginal way, you might say.
They didn't try and find a thousand new ways to talk. They just focused on the first.
One has to wonder who really is the more civilized.
"Geez. That's quite a story." The MHA said as he peered through the glass window into the room where the patient they knew as Alexander Oz and we knew as Noel Collins sat on the floor, once again looking down and staring at the ground.
"Tell me about it." Daniel Owens said, having just finished telling it. "He's our regular superhero…well, if he wasn't so messed up. A real model citizen."
"Hey, you two. You're being paid to watch the patients, not WATCH-watch them." Dr. Hastings said as he popped up. "Any change Daniel?"
"None sir. Sometimes he mumbles to himself like he's addressing somebody or something, but besides that nothing. The nurses and we have to do virtually everything else."
"More's the pity. I do hope he finds his way back." Dr. Hastings said, as he peered in the window as well.
"What do you think he's talking about?" The MHA said.
"Who knows? Maybe he's making it right in his head. Making a world where he never lost himself. Expanding on it from bits and pieces gleaned from what he's seen and heard to prove its reality. Rejecting the truth for being too hard. A world where he never fails, by his own gifts." Dr. Hastings said. "Or maybe he thinks he's talking to God. Hell, there are theories that insanity brings remarkable clarity about certain things. Maybe in his lunacy he's found a higher lucidity. Maybe he actually IS talking to God. Who knows? We just try and treat them. Understanding them is not always possible."
"…yeah."
"…poor bastard."
"Aren't we all." Dr. Hastings said. "Aren't we all. Anyway, it's almost lights out. I'll leave you to your jobs. What did you say your name was?" Dr. Hastings asked the new MHA.
"It's actually Alexander too, like the patient. Alexander Lutter…" The MHA said as the three walked away.
As Noel sat in his room, looking down at himself.
At his hands.
As he raised them briefly.
And, if but for a moment, white energy danced on the palms. The sign of a power that had never left. The sign of the reason why Noel's terrible injuries to his body had not been as severe as expected. And if a trial had been needed to return after Noel's 'sins', his agonies done in the service of helpless innocents had been deemed sufficient.
Noel looked at the dancing power.
And then he looked up further…to look at you. You, the reader.
He can see you.
"Perhaps some day, when man goes mad from his brain picking up all the information in the air, and all the trees have been cut down to make paper for the printing press, leaving us with no oxygen to breath…satellites will overheat and fall from the heavens, as we sent desperate cell phone calls to our loved ones, while watching the last days of Mother Earth on Reality TV. And perhaps the last message to go forth into the ether will be an e-mail, with a simple phrase, easily spoken by anyone: Turn The Lights Out, The Party's Over."
"Lights out." Came a voice from outside Noel's room. "Everyone down." Noel just keeps on looking at you, of many faces and lives, all together in the singular visage of The Reader.
"And then it'll be right back to the way it was. With The Word. Perhaps the last message will be to God, who made us so he'd have someone to chat with. But it will not reach a God willing to talk. Rather…it will reach a God…who is tired of listening."
Noel cocked his head.
"Perhaps much like you are. Good night."
And the room went black.
Next: In Harm's Way!