Page 28 - Effable Encounters

Fantasy and Fugue

stimulated by the reaction to amnesia? At any rate, the preliminary
diagnosis was correct. An interesting case, if it turned out that—
Chesterton, squinting and grimacing, started to stand up.
“Those damned lights,” he muttered. ”I’m going to punch them
out.”
The psychiatrist again restrained the man, who fell back into the
chair with a groan. The impact seemed to have the same effect as
before: Chesterton suddenly brightened, a silly grin playing about his
lips.
“Right! So we’re not going to paint the walls today? No
problem! Lots of other things we can do in here. Let’s see, if there
are two of us, can we play musical chairs? Nope, I’ve already lost that
one. Unless you’d like to sit down. Here, take a load off your feet.”
“No, no, you must remain where you are.” said Wheelhouse,
exasperation momentarily replacing clinical detachment.
This time the man stumbled back into his seat unaided; his balance
had failed. When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“Yes, I see, it’s pointless to strive. The lights are up there, and I am
down here, slipping back, never reaching my goal. Why bother,
eh? Why do you bother, doctor? Our lives are draining away, like
water out of a bathtub, and all we can do is stare at the outflow. Why
bother?”
Wheelhouse half-listened, noting the binary nature of the
episodes. Both voices expressed views not totally incompatible: they
childishly denied anything but the present, one in an irresponsibly
optimistic way, the other with paranoid pessimism. Could they be
integrated, the patient brought forward developmentally to an adult
outlook involved in the past and future, as well? The psychiatrist
considered it possible; first, however, he had to be certain that the
fugue had run its gamut. Forceful measures were necessary.
He grabbed the patient by the lapels of his pale blue hospital
jumper. “Chesterton!” he yelled, shaking the man back and forth like
a rag doll. “Albert! Wake up, man! This is it! Time to put it all
together! You got that? Do it now, you hear me? Look at me!”
Wheelhouse released the man, who collapsed passively into a
relaxed posture, eyes closed. The physician waited, writing his
impressions of Chesterton’s condition. The patient’s breathing had
lapsed into a very slow but regular pattern, unlike the fitful

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