The lights blinked twice. Docilely he got up and commenced preparations for bed. When the attendant looked through the peephole he was already in bed, with his face turned to the wall.
Gladness! Gladness everywhere! It was good to be with his own kind, to hear the music swelling out of every living thing, as it always had and always would-good to know that everything was living and aware of him, participating in him, as he participated in them. It was good to be, good to know the unity of many and the diversity of one. There had been one bad thought-the details escaped him-but it was gone-it had never been; there was no place for it.
The early-morning sounds from the adjacent ward penetrated the sleepladen body which served him here and gradually recalled him to awareness of the hospital room. The transition was so gentle that he carried over full recollection of what he had been doing and why. He lay still, a gentle smile on his face, and savored the uncouth, but not unpleasant, languor of the body he wore. Strange that he had ever forgotten despite their tricks and stratagems. Well, now that he had recalled the key, he would quickly set things right in this odd place. He would call them in at once and announce the new order. It would be amusing to see old Glaroon’s expression when he realized that the cycle had ended-
The click of the peephole and the rasp of the door being unlocked guillotined his line of thought. The morning attendant pushed briskly in with the breakfast tray and placed it on the tip table. “Morning, sir. Nice, bright day-want it in bed, or will you get up?”
Don’t answer! Don’t listen! Suppress this distraction! This is part of their plan- But it was too late, too late. He felt himself slipping, falling, wrenched from reality back into the fraud world in which they had kept him. It was gone, gone completely, with no single association around him to which to anchor memory. There was nothing left but the sense of heart-breaking loss and the acute ache of unsatisfied catharsis.
“Leave it where it is. I’ll take care of it.”
“Okey-doke.” The attendant bustled out, slamming the door, and noisily locked it.
He lay quite still for a long time, every nerve end in his body screaming for relief.
At last he got out of bed, still miserably unhappy, and attempted to concentrate on his plans for escape. But the psychic wrench he had received in being recalled so suddenly from his plane of reality had left him bruised and emotionally disturbed. His mind insisted on rechewing its doubts, rather than engage in constructive thought. Was it possible that the doctor was right, that he was not alone in his miserable dilemma? Was he really simply suffering from paranoia, delusions of self-importance?
Could it be that each unit in this yeasty swarm around him was the prison of another lonely ego-helpless, blind, and speechless, condemned to an eternity of miserable loneliness? Was the look of suffering which he had brought to Alice’s face a true reflection of inner torment and not simply a piece of play acting intended to maneuver him into compliance with their plans?
A knock sounded at the door. He said “Come in,” without looking up. Their comings and goings did not matter to him.
“Dearest-” A well-known voice spoke slowly and hesitantly.
“Alice!” He was on his feet at once, and facing her. “Who let you in here?”
“Please, dear, please-I had to see you.”
“It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.” He spoke more to himself than to her. Then: “Why did you come?”
She stood up to him with a dignity he had hardly expected. The beauty of her childlike face had been marred by line and shadow, but it shone with an unexpected courage. “I love you,” she answered quietly. “You can tell me to go away, but you can’t make me stop loving you and trying to help you.”
He turned away from her in an agony of indecision. Could it be possible that he had misjudged her? Was there, behind that barrier of flesh and sound symbols, a spirit that truly yearned toward his? Lovers whispering in the dark- “You do understand, don’t you?”