Separation Anxiety

Part Four

Mork figured he must have lost consciousness from shock after what the doctor told him, and he must have been out for a long time, because when he next awoke he found that his body had fully healed from the accident, his strength returned to him. While that perplexed him, causing him to wonder what had happened to all the time he'd lost, what confused him more was the drastic change of appearance in his surroundings. He found himself confined to a small room, a high, tiny window providing the only light, pale and filtered through a set of thick, heavy bars. He tried to get up from his bed, but he couldn't, restraints encircling his wrists, ankles, and torso preventing him, restricting his movements. Struggling against them, he looked around frantically, frightened and bewildered.

"Help me!" He shouted. "Please, somebody!"

"Good morning, Mork," Alan said calmly as he entered the room, either ignoring or unmoved by Mork's distressed cries as if they were a common occurrence, looking down at a clipboard of notes. The heavy door to the tiny cell clanged behind him and locked.

Mork stared at the handsome doctor, terror in his eyes. "Please, you have to get me out of here," he said. "What's happened to me? Where am I? Where is the base?"

"Ah yes, the base. You talk about that all the time," Alan said, shaking his head and writing some fresh notes on his clipboard. "It appears we have yet to make any progress in your rehabilitation, doesn't it? Now Mork, I want you to be on your very best behavior today, because I have some good news. A very special guest is coming to visit, and if you're good, I will release you from your restraints so that you can meet her, but you have to mind your manners and be polite, understand? There will be no incidents like the last time, when you attacked that nurse."

Mork's eyes wandered around the room, trying to make sense of his situation. "What nurse?" He asked. "What are you talking about?"

"You somehow managed to break into the hospital kitchen and threaten a nurse with a carving knife," Alan said. "You stabbed her in the leg. Fortunately, you missed any major arteries, or you could have killed her."

Mork looked at the doctor, his eyes wide. He shook his head. "No," he said. "I would never do that. I would never hurt anyone."

"But you did," Alan said. "That's why we had to place you in restraints to prevent you from harming anyone else or yourself."

"What is this place?" Mork asked. "What am I doing here?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"What is the last thing you do remember?"

"Waking up from a coma after being in a terrible car accident, and you were there. You were my doctor. But we weren't here, wherever this is. We were on some military base. Don't you remember? What has changed to put me here? What is this? What have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"Mork, of course you don't deserve to be here. Nobody deserves to be here. You're ill. You didn't ask to be in this condition, but that's why you're here. So you can get better."

"What are you talking about? Am I still injured from my accident?"

"There was never any accident. You've been here the entire time."

"But I don't understand. What is this place?"

"This is a maximum security facility that specializes in the care of the severely mentally ill. You're here because your paranoid delusions have taken over your life, made you incapable of caring for yourself and made you a danger to society."

Mork remembered hearing about places like this from his previous studies of Earth. There was no equivalent on Ork, except the stasis chamber where they stored not only their criminals, but those deemed mentally unfit or unsound. He realized that Earth society was not advanced enough to use the process of suspended animation to deal with its undesirable elements of society, but he wished they were. After all, he had been placed in stasis on Ork for a time for committing the crime of having emotions, and as unendurable as the experience had been for him, he almost preferred it to being fully conscious and aware of his surroundings, able to use his body but finding it restricted, trapped and confined to a small, cramped space, fully aware of how bleak, dismal, and unending his sentence would be but finding himself unable to alter his surroundings in any way. At least confined to his mind, he could begin to explore his imagination and inner fantasies and travel to other worlds of his own creation. Here, he was faced with a stark, unending reality.

"This doesn't make any sense," he said. "Is this because you told me that Mindy isn't real? That I made her up in my mind?"

Alan shrugged. "That does have something to do with it," he said, "however, I am afraid the issue is far more complicated than that. It has more to do with your belief that you are an alien. That, I believe, has compromised your ability to function more severely than simply believing in an imaginary girlfriend."

"But I am an alien," Mork said. "You were there with me at the base. You know that I am."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but this so-called base does not exist. It is a product of your hallucinations."

"No, I refuse to believe that," Mork said, squirming beneath the restraints. "This has to be an alternate universe of some kind, that's why you don't remember. Here, I'll show you that I'm an alien. I'll prove it to you. I'll break through these restraints using my powers."

Concentrating, Mork used his finger, which was free despite his wrist being restricted, and he pointed it at the strap around his ankle. Nothing happened.

"I…I don't understand," he said. "That's never happened to me before."

"Mork, you don't have any special powers. You're not an alien. You're just a human being, like me. The sooner you believe that, the sooner we will make progress towards getting you well."

"No!" Mork screamed, thrashing around violently, pulling and yanking the restraints until every muscle in his body was taut, straining to free himself. "No! I won't believe you! I won't! This isn't real! It isn't real!"

"Now Mork, I insist that calm yourself," Alan said. "You don't want to remain in your restraints as punishment for this wild and irrational behavior, now do you?"

Mork ceased his struggles, panting and sweating profusely, collapsing back onto the bed, his body going limp, the restraints refusing to give, continuing to hold him fast.

"There, now that's better. I'm glad you decided not to persist with this futile exercise. You cannot free yourself. Only I have permission release you, and I won't do it until you agree to remain calm and behave yourself. After all, I told you that you had a special visitor. You don't want to miss out on meeting her because you chose instead to be stubborn and uncooperative, now do you?"

Catching his breath, Mork turned his head to the side, staring blankly at the wall, which was made of solid concrete and looked stained as if it had been urinated on repeatedly by former inmates.

"Who is it?" He asked bleakly, resigned to his new reality but still not fully accepting of it.

"What?"

"Who is the visitor?"

Alan grinned. "My wife," he said. "She's a very special person. I think you'll like her."

Alan led Mindy into the hospital, showing her security badge to the guards at the front desk.

"Now, I don't want you to be afraid," he said. "Most of these patients are quite docile. A myth persists that the majority of the mentally ill are dangerous, but that simply isn't true. Only a small percentage ever become violent, and when they do, we know how to deal with them. Don't worry, I will be right here with you to supervise every interaction you have with them. Should something get out of hand, I will protect you. All right, sweetheart?"

"Don't worry about me," Mindy said. "I know I'll be fine. It was my decision to come, after all."

They entered the visitor's area, and immediately a foul stench invaded her nostrils. It was an odor she remembered from childhood, similar to the hospital where she and her father would go to visit her mother while she was in the final stages of her cancer. It was the smell of death and decay, the smell of the condemned and the forgotten. She knew that if hell existed, it probably smelled like that, like hopelessness and despair. The sight of the patients shuffling around in their robes, some of them completely unaware of their surroundings, also saddened her. Everyone in the place appeared to be broken and beyond repair.

"Does it have to be so dismal?" She asked. "Why can't this place look more like a home than a prison?"

"What did you expect? A palace?"

"No, but couldn't you make this place more comfortable? Give these people a little dignity? They're already suffering enough."

"I'm afraid we don't have the funds. Anyway, some of them have no control over their actions. They shatter things. We had to make this place as indestructible as possible."

As they continued to walk quietly through the visitor's area, bowing their heads in respect as if they were walking through the graves in a cemetery instead of being among the living, one of the patients began to show signs of life, not looking as cadaverous as the others. He was short but powerful and athletic, his inquisitive blue eyes actively observing his surroundings. He appeared to be anxious, his wavy brown hair disheveled, signs of stubble growing on his boyish, attractive face. Yet despite all of that, he seemed to be the sanest person in the room.

"Ah, here's the patient I wanted you to meet," Alan said, smiling. "He's the new one I was telling you about. A tough case, it turns out. Very tragic. Still, I have hope for him. Mork? Mork, this is the special guest I was telling you about. Now, I'd like you to be polite and introduce yourself. This is my wife."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mindy said, extending her long, elegant hand.

Alan watched their interaction, relishing every moment of it. Somehow, he had managed to accomplish far more than he dreamed possible. He had completely dissolved their relationship, fractured it to pieces, destroying it beyond recognition. Mindy didn't remember him, and even though Mork remembered her, who would believe him? He had no credibility, his sanity in question.

"Mindy?" Mork asked, looking at her. "Mindy, is that you?" He smiled, tears forming in his eyes.

Mindy looked at Alan.

"How does he know my name?" She asked.

"I told him," Alan said.

Mork reached out to her, trying to touch her. His hand gently brushed against the silk of her dress.

"It is you," he said. "He told me that you weren't real, that you were a hallucination, but here you are, standing right in front of me. I can touch you. I can feel you. Mindy, don't you know me? You have to know me. I don't know what's happening here, but you're not his wife. You're mine. You're my girlfriend, and you have been for some time. Come on, you have to believe me. Don't listen to this man. He claims he's a doctor, but he's doing something to us, trying to separate us. Please, Mindy. You've got to help me. He's got me locked up in here, but I'm not out of my mind. I know who I am. I know who you are, too. You've got to remember. You've got to remember you love me. Please. Don't let him do this to us, whatever it is. Don't let him destroy us."

He began to sob, leaving Mindy to stand there, dumbfounded, unsure what to say to comfort this sweet, demented man. There was something endearing and vulnerable about him that stirred her pity. Instead of being afraid of him, she wanted to help him, finding herself strangely drawn to him. He reminded her of the man she often thought about in her dreams.

"Bring security in here to escort this patient back to his room," Alan said to a nearby orderly.

"No Alan, don't do that," Mindy said, gently grabbing his arm. "He isn't bothering me."

"He's becoming disorderly."

"No he's not."

"Mindy, we are a secure facility. I'm afraid I have to pacify unruly patients before they do something rash."

Several burly security guards surrounded Mork, towering over him, making him look so small and vulnerable. They were prepared for him to resist him, their hardened expressions showing they were veterans used to handling the most violent patients. They approached him from behind, grabbing his arms and pinning them behind his back.

"No! No, please, let go of me! Mindy! Mindy!" Mork screamed, thrashing around, his strength almost equal to the men that held him, making it difficult for them to maintain control as they began to drag him down the hallway. "Mindy! Don't let them do this to me! You know me! Mindy!"

Mork's voice faded as the doors to the ward slammed, locking shut. Mindy stood there, haunted by the man's pitiful, frightened expression and sorrowful eyes. He looked absolutely terrified, as if they were dragging him off to his execution. She didn't know why, but she almost believed him. With his adorable, boyish looks and his innocence, he didn't seem like he belonged there.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Alan said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned and glared at him. "How could you do that to him?" She asked. "He wasn't a threat."

"He was losing control. He's a seriously disturbed man."

"But they could hurt him in there!" She said, pointing at the locked, barred doors to the ward.

"Don't worry. He won't be mistreated in any way. He'll get the help he needs."

"That poor man," Mindy said. "I feel for him."

"I don't blame you. As I said, it's a tough case, very tragic. After seeing what you have today, I wouldn't blame you if you changed your mind about choosing psychiatry as a profession. I warned you it might be disturbing."

Mindy shook her head, still staring at the barred doors, wondering what torment the patient named Mork was experiencing behind them.

"No, it hasn't disturbed me at all," she said. "It's educated me. Thank you for bringing me here. I'll never forget it."

"Come on," Alan said, also glancing at the doors. "Let me take you home. It's been a difficult day."

Mindy agreed, allowing him to escort her like a gentleman out of the hospital. A part of her resented his behavior, wondering how he could remain so aloof and composed while one of his patients suffered. She felt guilty for being treated so gently while Mork had been hauled away like an animal, not privileged enough to be treated with the same courtesy and respect that she, a member of the sane class, was afforded. She felt terrible for Mork. He had been so sweet to her when he professed his love for her. He almost made her believe they had known each other—how that was possible, she didn't know. Still, she found herself profoundly affected by him, and she decided she would come visit him again, even if she had to do it in secret. She wanted to get to know him better.