6: Treatment
But to Miriam's surprise, the agents didn't kill her. Instead they took her exactly where they told her mother they were taking her – to a secure medical institution for people who needed psychiatric treatment. In other words, a mental hospital.
I'm never getting out of here, she thought miserably.
It was just like that film she'd seen once. How could you prove to someone that you were completely sane? Miriam suspected that saying "Actually, I am sane," just wasn't going to cut it. So easy to say you were sane – so hard to prove it. There were lots of people in the world who appeared perfectly sane but turned out to be raving loonies. And the doctors here were probably used to the patients insisting that they weren't crazy, really, it was the evil chair-people who persuaded them to set fire to their neighbours' mailboxes.
No matter what she told the doctors, they weren't going to believe her. After all, what could she say?
"Doctor, I'm not crazy. The men in suits came and took me away because I went looking for the Matrix. My friend Marty went looking for the Matrix and they didn't like it, so they killed him and burned his house down. And then they came after me because I knew too much. What? Oh, the Matrix? Yeah, it's this giant computer program which secretly controls everything."
Yeah, right. The doctors would smile and nod understandingly and think "Crazy as a loon". There was no point in even trying. She might as well just give up and resign herself to a life of hospital food and medication which she didn't need and a padded cell to sleep in.
Actually, the room wasn't too bad. The walls were padded, yes, but there was a bed and a toilet and washbasin, and a desk to sit at, and a little window she could look out of. And straitjackets did not appear to be involved.
Not too bad, all things considered. The hospital staff seemed pleasant enough, if a little condescending, and they were letting her out for meals and things. It could have been a lot worse, all things considered.
Right now Miriam was sitting in the canteen, in between a guy who kept twitching and muttering to himself about "the cutlery demons that were laughing at him behind his back", and another guy who looked perfectly normal to her.
Whoever first built the hospital had clearly tried to make this a nice room; it was decorated in pale greens and blues and there were skylights in the ceiling to let in the sunshine, but then some nameless management drone had furnished the canteen with lots of institution-style tables and benches, all plastic and stainless steel, undoing the architect's best efforts to make the canteen look like something other than a place where the insane went to eat.
It smelled of hospital food and strong disinfectant, and Miriam found it deeply depressing. She sighed.
"They got to you too, huh?" the normal-looking guy said conversationally.
"Yeah," said Miriam.
"It's all a big conspiracy. They're out to get us."
"Tell it like it is, brother," said Miriam. "What did they get you for?"
"I found out about the United Nations' evil plans to turn everything pink and fluffy and make us all wear leopardskin hot pants and listen to Rod Stewart all day. What about you?"
"Oh, I went looking for the secret computer program that controls the whole world and then the men in suits came and took me away," said Miriam. "They don't want anyone to find the Matrix, you see. They come after everyone who looks for it."
"Bad luck," said the man sympathetically. "It wasn't the men in suits who got me, though. My brother came downstairs and caught me trying to burn a big pile of Rod Stewart records. He didn't believe me when I told him about the Satanic messages that you can hear when you play "Tonight's The Night" backwards, and he had me committed."
"You don't like Rod Stewart records, huh?"
"They're evil. We must burn them all! Burn them all!"
"Absolutely," said Miriam, nodding vigorously and thinking Yup. I was right. Even the ones who look normal are totally off the planet. "And Michael Jackson is the new Messiah, right?"
"What, are you crazy or something?" said the man, frowning.
"Sorry."
"Everyone knows that only Cher can save us from the forces of darkness."
"Right," said Miriam slowly. "Excuse me a minute, I'm just going to get a glass of water. I'll be right back."
"Watch out for the invisible mind-control pills," the man called. "They like to slip them into your drink when you're not looking!"
"I will," Miriam promised.
She hurried away, just as the man started humming "Believe" to himself, and went to fetch a glass of water.
Standing next to the neat queue of patients was a young nurse with dark, soulful eyes and a pale face framed by perfect black ringlets.
"Hello, Miriam," she said, as Miriam joined the queue. And that was strange, thought Miriam. All the other nurses called her "Miss Moorgate". No-one on the staff had ever called her by her first name.
"Who are you?" said Miriam.
"My name's Alethia. I'm into Greek mythology and chatrooms. You make the connection."
"Chatrooms? You're TruthGoddess?"
"Sssh! Keep it down!" whispered Alethia. "Yes, I'm TruthGoddess. I'm from the Resistance. I'm here to get you out."
"Where's Horus?"
"Horus is here too, he's disguised as a male nurse. He's standing over by the door, but don't look at him. Now what I want you to do is kick up a fuss so that Horus and I have an excuse to drag you away and take you back to your room."
"How do you mean, kick up a fuss?"
"Like that guy over there who was raving about Rod Stewart. Yell and shout and rant about whatever comes into your head; just act like you need to be led away quietly and given a heavy dose of animal tranquillisers."
Miriam nodded. Suddenly she pointed at Alethia and yelled:
"You're one of THEM, aren't you?"
People turned to look at her in surprise.
"Good," whispered Alethia.
"Yes! I knew it! You're one of them! The purple aliens from outer space who're trying to take over the world with radioactive television sets!" Miriam bellowed, thinking furiously of crazy things to say. "I know all about you! You and your plot to control the nation through our addiction to talk shows! I know what you're up to, you – you – you fiendish three-headed Martian! You cancelled Sesame Street and put on repeats of Barney the Dinosaur instead! You're poisoning our children's minds!"
"Keep going," murmured Alethia. "Just a few more seconds…"
"Yeah! Yeah, don't deny it! You're an alien! You're all aliens! You're the ones who kidnapped Elvis Presley! You were jealous of his talent and wanted him for yourselves!" Miriam shouted.
A male nurse – Horus, she thought dimly - grabbed her by the arm, and Alethia took her by the other arm.
"Time to go," said Alethia under her breath.
"Elvis lives!" Miriam exclaimed, pretending to try and break free.
"There, there," said Horus. "We know the King is still alive. He's alive in our hearts, Miss Moorgate. Come on, it's time for your medication."
"No! Evil mind-control drugs! No!"
"That's it!" called the man who hated Rod Stewart records. "Fight the power!"
As a finishing touch, Miriam shouted the all-time favourite saying of crazy people everywhere, just as Horus and Alethia led her out of the room:
"I'M NOT CRAZY! I SWEAR!"
The doors closed behind them.
"A masterly performance, Miriam," said Alethia
"Worthy of an Oscar, I think," agreed Horus.
"Thank you – thank you," said Miriam, beaming with pride. "I'd like to thank the Academy…"
They turned the corner and went back towards the patients' rooms.
"So what happens now?" said Miriam.
"You make a choice," said Horus.
"Got any advice for me?"
"Choose right."
"Helpful."
"I aim to please."
"This is my room, right here," said Miriam. "You've got a key, right?"
Horus instantly produced a key, and opened the door.
"I'll take that as a yes," said Miriam, and they led her inside.
"Before we do anything else, Miriam, there's something we have to check," said Horus. "Take off your shirt."
"Excuse me?" said Miriam sharply.
"Horus, you win more flies with honey than with vinegar," Alethia scolded him. "Sorry, Miriam. We just need to take a look at your stomach, that's all."
"Why?"
"Do you remember what happened after the agents picked you up? After they finished talking to you? How did you get home? Can you remember?"
"I – no. No, I don't. All I remember is Agent Black saying "That is a promise," and after that it's a blank. I woke up in bed the next morning."
"Hmm. Do you think she's bugged?" said Alethia to Horus.
"Could be. We'd better check."
"Check what? What do you mean, bugged?" said Miriam.
"The agents often plant a bug inside people they've just warned away from the Matrix, so they can trace their every movement and come after them if necessary," Alethia told her. "We need to make sure that they haven't done this to you. If they have, we have to get it out."
"Get it out?" said Miriam nervously.
"It's all right, Miriam," said Alethia. "We're not going to open you up or anything. You won't feel a thing, I promise. Now just lie down, and let me take a look at you. Can you do that for me?"
Miriam nodded. "Okay."
She lay down on the bed and let Alethia pull her shirt up until her stomach was exposed.
"You see, the bug enters via the navel and lodges in the abdomen for up to a year," Alethia explained. "If the suspect doesn't do anything to arouse suspicion during that period of time, the bug deactivates and leaves the system."
"And if they do something to arouse suspicion?" said Miriam.
Alethia drew her finger across her throat in a cutting motion.
"Oh."
"Well, more like "boom", actually," put in Horus. "The bug is fitted with an explosive device. If you're onto something and the agents can't get to you in time to stop you from finding out the truth, they detonate it."
Miriam grimaced. "Ugh."
"Yeah, it's not pretty," said Horus. "I've seen it happen. But not often. Usually the agents just pick you up, and then they either kill you or lock you up in a place like this."
"Okay, enough talk," said Alethia. "Horus, lock the door and call Telex. Ask for the stuff and somewhere to plug in."
The door lock clicked. Horus whipped out a cellphone and pressed a button.
"Tel, it's me," he said to whoever was on the line. "Yeah, we got her… that's right. Right here. And we need a secure connection. Yeah, yeah, okay. We'll make it fast."
He hung up. A second later, a black suitcase appeared from nowhere and landed on the bed with a soft thud.
"Where did that come from?" said Miriam, amazed.
Alethia said nothing. She opened up the suitcase and took out a small device made mostly out of chrome; it looked a bit like one of the ray-guns from an old sci-fi B-movie that Miriam had seen once. It had a glass test-tube attached to one side, and a little LCD screen on the other, as if whoever was firing the ray-gun wanted to watch television while they blasted away at aliens.
"Thank God for Meg and Gig," said Alethia. "Smaller and lighter. I could barely lift the last one. I almost dropped it right on top of the poor kid."
"Just get on with it, Leth," said Horus impatiently. "Tel says that our patient here might be expecting company."
"And it's not even visiting time, either," said Alethia. "Okay, Miriam, just relax and hold still. This won't hurt a bit."
"Actually, it's agonising," said Horus brightly.
"It is not," said Alethia. "Don't scare the poor kid."
As Miriam watched warily, still trying to work out which one she ought to believe on the pain issue, Alethia pointed the ray-gun at her stomach, right above her navel, and pressed a button. There was a humming sound for a while, and then everything went quiet.
"Anything?" Horus asked.
"No."
Horus looked surprised.
"No bugs?"
"No. She's clean. Take a look for yourself."
Horus looked at the little screen, and shook his head slowly.
"Well I'll be. First time they haven't bugged someone in a long time."
"I know. Right, get the equipment set up."
Horus rummaged in the suitcase and took out handfuls of wires and electrical components. He began assembling something that – well, Miriam had no idea what it was or what it did, but whatever it was, it was made from what looked like the Jefferson High School science department's entire collection of electrical equipment. It was a jumble of wires, crocodile clips, complex circuits, components and something that appeared to be a telephone – albeit a telephone that had just been run over by a truck.
Horus finished by linking up the bizarre apparatus to a plasma-screen monitor, which he lifted carefully out of the suitcase and placed on the floor, and then he plugged everything into a socket which Miriam could have sworn hadn't there before. The phone was hooked up too – how? There was no phone line in this room… but then there hadn't been a socket, either…
The whole thing was done in minutes.
"Finished," said Horus, starting up the device and dusting off his hands. "We're up and running and ready to go."
"Okay, Miriam," said Alethia gently. "Now I'm going to have to ask you to make a choice."
Miriam glanced out of the window, and almost yelled out loud. A plain black car was parked outside the hospital.
"I think you'd better choose fast," said Horus. "They're coming."
Alethia took a small silver case out of the breast pocket of her nurse's uniform. She opened it, and emptied the contents into her hands. She opened her hands – in one was a blue capsule, and in the other was a red one.
"You can either take the red pill or the blue pill," said Alethia. "If you take the red pill, you'll come with us, and you'll find out exactly what the Matrix is. Or you can take the blue pill and wake up back in bed, with everything back the way it used to be."
"Or alternatively, you can spend so long deciding that the agents turn up, burst in here and kill us all," said Horus, sounding faintly worried.
"Take your time, Miriam. This isn't a decision to be taken lightly."
"I'm not asking her to take it lightly, I'm asking her to make it fast!"
She'd come this far. There was no turning back now. If she took the blue pill, everything would be back to normal. No agents, no mental hospital. And still no answers. She'd never know what the Matrix was, and she'd always wonder what would have happened if she'd chosen differently. So slowly and deliberately, Miriam took the red pill from the palm of Alethia's hand.
"Are you sure, Miriam?" said Alethia. "Once you take that pill, you can never go home again."
"I don't want to," said Miriam. "My mother gave me to the agents. She signed me over, like a – like a package. I want out. Or in. Whatever. I'm going with you."
"Good choice," said Horus. "Now swallow it quickly, there's a plastic cup of water on your nightstand."
And there was.
"That wasn't here this morning."
"Neither was I. Tempus fugit, kid. Now take the damn pill before the agents get here!"
Miriam put the red pill in her mouth, and swallowed it, along with a mouthful of water from the cup on her nightstand.
Once again Horus' cellphone came out.
"Hey, Tel? Run a trace program, she took the red pill," he said into the phone. "Get a mirror in here too. Hurry, they're on their way. No, there's no time for that! Just do it!"
And suddenly there was a full-length mirror in the room, mounted to the wall.
"How – what - ?" gasped Miriam. "How did you do that?"
"No time, Miriam. Just touch the mirror," said Alethia.
Miriam reached out. Very hesitantly, she touched the mirror. The glass rippled like water beneath her fingers, and then it gave way; her hand plunged into what felt like ice-cold water.
With a yelp, Miriam pulled her hand back out. There were small, gleaming silver droplets of mirror on her hand, like mercury. As she watched in astonishment, the mirror-drops spread, covering her fingertips, then her fingers, then her whole hand.
She gasped. It was so cold; it was like having her hand encased in a block of ice. Against all expectations, the liquid mirror seemed to get colder. It travelled slowly up her arm, past her wrist, past her elbow. Miriam was shivering furiously, trying not to scream. It was so cold that it hurt.
"What's happening to me?" she wailed.
"It's all right, Miriam. Everything's going to be all right," said Alethia. "I know this is scary, it scared me too when it happened to me. Just stay calm, or you'll give yourself a heart attack. That's happened before now, with some of the older potentials."
"Yeah, the Nebuchadnezzar picked up some guy called Neo last week," said Horus. "Almost went into arrest before they freed him."
"How old was he?" said Alethia.
"In his thirties, I think. Way older than usual."
"In his thirties? But that's dangerous! What was Morpheus thinking?"
"He was thinking that he'd found the One," said Horus. "He believes in the Oracle's prophecy."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Yeah. Pretty much. I know I do. Not much else to believe in these days."
The mirror had swallowed up Miriam's whole arm now. It was silver from fingertip to shoulderblade, and still creeping inexorably up towards her neck. Miriam was starting to panic. She didn't want that stuff on her face!
"Miriam, calm down," Alethia urged her. "You're all right."
"No I'm not!"
"You are," said Alethia.
"Really," added Horus. "I'd hold your hand or something, but you've got that silver goop on it."
Miriam wanted to laugh, but she was too scared.
"Where the hell is that trace program?" Horus barked into his cellphone. "We need it, Tel, we need it now! What? You've got it? Well, about time too!"
The cold silver had crept up to Miriam's chin now. She took a deep breath, and screamed…
