“Don’t I have any family? Why does nobody come and visit?”
“They did, in the early days. Don’t you remember?”
“No.”
“You didn’t respond well. It set off a regression that threw us back months.”
“I’m better now. Can’t we try again?”
“Sure. But it would be best if not for a while just yet. All in good time, Joe. All in good time. . . .”
* * *
He remembered courts of cobblestones and lawns, closed in by tall buildings with frontages of old stone. An archway led through to a busy street with green, double-decked buses. There was a pub by a river, filled with talkative youths in heavy-knit sweaters and pretty girls who wore black stockings. They danced and sang to music in the back room.
* * *
“You have to get rid of Simon,” Corrigan said. “I can’t get along with him. It’s not working.”
“What’s the problem?” Arnold asked.
“There isn’t any communication. I feel like I’m talking to a sponge.”
“Are you sure the problem is with him and not you?”
“I didn’t say it was him.”
“What’s the biggest problem area?”
“He doesn’t understand jokes.”
“Is that so terrible?”
“It means he isn’t human. To be effective, a counselor really ought to come from one’s own species.”
Arnold considered the statement. “I’m not so sure of your conclusion,” he replied finally. “I believe there are traits among certain animals that some researchers have tentatively identified as indicative of humor.” To Corrigan’s amazement, Arnold showed every appearance of being perfectly serious.
“That was a joke,” Corrigan said wearily.
* * *
They gave him an apartment of his own—still under supervision, but at least it was a start toward regaining independence.
“I had a wife,” he said to Arnold one day.
“Things weren’t so good between you, though, were they?” That was true. Corrigan could recall more now of the conflicts of those final months—both professional and domestic.
“What happened to her?” Corrigan asked.
“She got a divorce on the grounds of your incapacitation,” Arnold said. “I think she’s abroad somewhere now.”
“Now that I’m out again, maybe we could track down some of the people I used to work with. There must be some of them still around. Maybe I could even get some kind of a job there again.”
Arnold didn’t seem overenthusiastic. “Maybe, in time. But we feel that reviving those associations too soon could trigger another relapse. Let’s see how well you rehabilitate in the short term first.”
* * *
“Joe, this is Sarah Bewley. She’s going to be your new counselor. We’ve been talking about you to a company that does a lot of work in your field, and they’re willing to give you a try at a job. Isn’t that great? It will also be farewell from me pretty soon. I’m moving on.”
Sarah elaborated. “It’s a Japanese corporation called Himomatsu, who are concentrating on virtual, self-modifying environments. That is the kind of thing that you used to do, isn’t it? Naturally, it won’t be as senior a position as you had before, but we have to start somewhere. I’ve arranged an interview for you with their local general manager on Monday—his name is Rawlings. If they do decide to take you on, you’ll be going on a familiarization trip to Tokyo.”
“You’ve been busy,” Corrigan complimented.
“We just want to see you functioning again, Joe.”
* * *
“Sarah,” Joe said, “is the world going crazy, or am I not as well as I feel?”
“Didn’t you like Japan?”
“It was all the bad tour guides you’ve ever seen, come to life. They do everything in regiments over there. Somebody’s churning them out of a clone factory.”
“It’s a different culture. You have to make allowances,” Sarah said.
“They drill their employees on parade grounds. I thought I was joining a company, not the Marine Corps,” Corrigan protested.
Sarah smiled patronizingly. “That’s just a new idea that they’re trying out. Employee motivation is important. You can’t learn if you don’t experiment.”
“They’ve got dude-ranch-style fantasy farms, where you can act out daydreams. Later, the scripts get incorporated into VR scenarios. Unreality is getting more real than reality.”