K-PAX

Session Fourteen

I didn't get back to my office until the following Wednesday morning. As soon as I walked in I detected the fragrance of pine trees, and I knew that Giselle had been there. Perched on top of the great mound of work piled on my desk was a note neatly handwritten in green ink:

There was only one disappearance in 1985 that occurred in a town where a slaughterhouse is located. It was in South Carolina, and the missing person was a woman. Am spending this week in the library going over newspaper files for that year.

See you later.

Love, G.

While I was reading it I got a call from Charlie Flynn, the astronomer, my son-in-law's colleague at Princeton. After he had returned from his vacation in Canada, Steve had told him about the discrepancy between his and prot's account of the orbit of K-PAX around its double suns. He was very excited. The calculation, he said, had been done by one of his graduate students. Upon hearing of prot's version he had recalculated the orbital pattern himself, and it turned out to be exactly as prot had described it: a pendulum-like back-and-forth motion, not a figure eight. All the star charts prot had drawn up were quite accurate as well. I thought nothing would faze me anymore where prot was concerned, but what this trained scientist said next shocked me as much as it fascinated him. He said, "Savants are basically people with prodigious memories, aren't they? This is different, here is no way anyone could guess that orbital pattern or intuit it. I know this sounds crazy, but I can't see how he could have come up with this information unless he had actually been there!" This from a man who is as sane as, you or I. "Could I talk to your patient?" he went on. "There are several thousand questions I'd like to ask him!"

I rejected this idea, of course, for a number of reasons. I suggested, however, that he send me a list of fifty of the key questions he wanted to ask prot, and assured him that I would be happy to present them to him. "But make it fast," I said. "He claims he's leaving on August seventeenth "Can you get him to stay longer?"

"I doubt it."

"Can you try?"

"I'm trying my damnedest," I retorted.

THE rest of the morning was taken up with meetings and an interview with the third candidate for the directorship. I'm afraid I didn't give him the attention he deserved. He seemed capable enough, and had published some excellent work. His specialty was Tourette's syndrome, and he suffered from a mild form of the affliction himself-nervous tics, primarily, though he occasionally called me "a piece of shit." But I was too preoccupied with trying to formulate a way to get through to Robert to listen. At last an idea came to mind, and unforgivably I sat up and blurted, "Ah!" Thinking I was referring to his discourse, our guest was quite pleased by my outburst and went on and on with an even greater display of facial twitching and name calling than before. I paid no attention to him-I was absorbed by the question: Could the host personality be hypnotized while the secondary alter is already under hypnosis?

"OKAY, ready for anything," prot said after finishing a huge mixed fruit salad and blowing his nose on his napkin. He tossed it into the bowl and looked for the spot on the wall behind me. Knowing he would jump the gun, however, I had covered it up before he could throw himself into a trance.

"I'm not going to hypnotize you for a while."

"I told you it wouldn't work," he said, breaking into the all-too-familiar grin.

"I want to talk to you about Robert first."

The smile vanished. "How did you find out his name?"

"You told me."

"Under hypnosis?"

"Yes."

"Well, flatten my feet and call me daffy."

"What happened to his wife and child?"

Prot seemed confused, edgy. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on. He must have told you that."

"Wrong. He's never mentioned them since I found him by the river."

"Where are they now?"

"I have no idea."

Either prot was lying, which I strongly doubted, or he was genuinely unaware of Robert's activities when the latter didn't communicate them. If that were the case Rob could try almost anything-possibly even suicide-without prot's knowledge. I was more certain than ever that I had to get through to him as soon as possible. In fact, there wasn't a moment to lose. I stood up and removed the tape from the spot on the wall behind me. Prot fell into his usual deep trance immediately.

"We are now in the present. Prot? Do you understand?"

"Yes. It is not a difficult concept."

"Good. Is Robert there with you?"

"Yes."

"May I speak to him, please?"

"You may, but he probably won't speak to you."

"Please let him come forward."

Silence. Robert slouched down in the chair, his chin on his chest.

"Robert?"

No response.

"Robert, this is Doctor Brewer. Please open your eyes." There was a barely detectable shift in his position. "Robert, listen to me. I am not just trying to help you.

I know I can help you. Please trust me. Open your eyes!" His eyes flickered open for a moment, then closed again.

After a few seconds he blinked several times, as if vacillating, and finally they stayed open. It was little more than a vacant stare, but it was something.

"Robert! Can you hear me?" After what seemed like an eternity I detected a hint of a nod. "Good. Now I want you to focus your attention on the spot on the wall behind me."

The lifeless eyes, gazing emptily at the edge of my desk, shifted upward slightly.

"A little higher. Raise your eyes a little higher!"

Slowly his focus lifted, an inch at a time, slowly, slowly. Ignoring my presence completely, he lifted his gaze to the wall behind my shoulder. His mouth had fallen open.

"Good. Now, listen carefully. I'm going to count forward from six to ten. As I count, your eyelids will become heavy and you will grow increasingly sleepy. By the time I get to ten, you will be in a deep trance. But you will be able to hear and understand everything I say. Now this is very important: When I clap my hands, you will wake up. Do you understand?"

A tiny, but definite, nod.

"Good. We'll begin now. Six..." I watched carefully as his eyelids began to droop. "... and ten. Robert, can you hear me?"

No response.

"Robert?"

Unintelligible."Please speak louder."

A feeble "Yes," more like a gurgle. But someone was there! At that moment I was very, very glad I had chosen to become a psychiatrist.

"Good. Now listen to me. We are going to travel back in time. Imagine the pages of a calendar turning rapidly backward. It is now August eighth, 1989, exactly, one year ago. Now it is 1988; now 1987, now 1986. Now, Robert, it is August eighth, 1985,_ at noon. Where are you?"

He remained motionless for several minutes before murmuring, "I am at work." He sounded tired, but his voice was clear, though slightly higher-pitched than prot's.

"What are you doing there?"

"I am eating my lunch."

"What are you eating?"

"I have a Dutch loaf sandwich with Miracle Whip and pickles, a peanut butter sandwich with Concord grape jelly, potato chips, a banana, two sugar cookies, and a thermos of coffee."

"Where did you get your lunch?"

"From my lunch bucket."

"Your wife made it for you?"

"Yes."

"All right. We are going to move forward eight days and two hours. It is 2:00 P.M. on August sixteenth, 1985. Where are you now?"

"At work."

"And what are you doing at this moment?"

"Knocking steers."

"All right. What do you see?"

"It is jerking around making noises. I bang it again. Now it is still." He wiped some imaginary perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"And it moves down the line where someone else cuts the throat, is that right?"

"Yes, after it is shackled."

"Then what?"

"Then another one comes along. Then another, then another, then another-"

"All right. Now it is just after quitting time. You are on_ your way home from work. You are home now, getting out of your car. You are going up the walk-"

His eyes widened. "Someone is there!"

"Who? Who is there?

Agitated: "I don't know. He is coming out of my house. I have never seen him before. He is going back into the house! Something is wrong! I am running after him, chasing him into the house. Oh, God, no! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He began to wail, his head wagging back and forth, his eyes as big as the moon. Then he looked toward me and his demeanor changed radically-an utter transmogrification. He looked as though he wanted to kill me.

"Robert!" I yelled, clapping my hands together as loudly as I could. "Wake up! Wake up!" His eyes closed immediately, thank God, and an exhausted Robert sat slumped in the chair in front of me.

"Robert?"

No response.

"Robert?"

Still nothing.

"Robert, it's all right. It's over now. Everything is all right. Can you hear me?"

No response.

"Robert, I'd like to talk to prot now." No response.

"Please let me speak to prot. Prot? Are you there?" I was beginning to feel a mounting trepidation. Had I been too aggressive? What if-?

Finally his head lifted and his eyes blinked open. "Now you've done it."

"Prot? Is that you?"

"You had to do it, didn't you? Just when he started to trust you, you went for the jugular.

"Prot, I would like to have taken it more slowly, but you are planning to leave us on the seventeenth. Our time is almost up!"

"I told you-I have no choice in the matter. If we don't leave then we'll never be able to get back."

"You and Robert?"

"Yes. Except ..."

"Except what?"

"Except he's gone now."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I don't know."

"Look hard, prot. He must be there with you somewhere."

"Not anymore. He's not here anymore. You have driven him away."

"Okay, I'm going to count back from five to one now. As the numbers decrease you will begin to wake up. On the count of one you will be fully alert and feeling fine. Ready? Five ... one."

"Hello."

"How do you feel?"

"I think I had too much fruit. Have you got any antacid?"

"Betty will get some for you later. Right now we need to talk."

"What else have we been doing for the past three months?"

"Where is your friend Robert right now?"

"No idea, coach."

"But you told me earlier he was in 'a safe place.' "

"He was then, but he's gone now."

"But you could contact him if you wanted to."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"All right. Let's review a few things. When you came to Earth five years ago, Robert was trying to drown himself. Remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"But you don't know why?"

"I think it's because he didn't want to live anymore."

"I mean, you have no idea what caused him to be so upset? So desperate?"

"Haven't we been over this?"

"I think he may have killed someone."

"Robert? Nah. He loses his temper sometimes, but-"

"I don't think he meant to kill anyone. I think he caught someone in his house. Someone who may have harmed his wife and daughter in some way. He is only human, prot. He reacted without thinking."

"I'm not surprised."

"Prot, listen to me. You helped Howie to cure Ernie of his phobia. I'm going to ask you to do something for me. I'm going to ask you to cure Robert. Let's call it a 'task.' I'm assigning you the task of curing Robert. Do you accept the assignment?"

"Sorry, I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Ernie wanted to get well. Robert doesn't. He just wants to be left alone. He doesn't even want to talk to me anymore."

"You've helped a lot of the patients in Ward Two. I have confidence that if you really put your mind to it you could help Robert, too. Will you please try?"

"Anything you sigh, mite. But don't hold your breath."

"Good. I think that's enough work for today. We both need a little time to reflect on this. But I'd like to schedule an extra session with you on Sunday. It's the only day I have. Would you be willing to come back for a Sunday session?"

"What about your promise to your wife?"

"What promise?"

"That you would take sundays off, no matter what. Except that you cheat and bring work home."

"How did you know about that?"

"Everyone knows about that."

"She's going to the Adirondacks with Chip for a couple of weeks, if it's any of your business."

"In that case, I would be delighted to accept your kind invitation."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Is that all?"

"For now."

"Toodle-oo."

I switched off the tape recorder and slumped down in my chair, as drained of emotion as Robert must have been. I felt very bad about this particular session. I had rushed things, taken a big chance and failed, perhaps irreversibly. One thing you learn in psychiatry: Treating a psychotic patient is like singing opera-it seems easy enough to the spectator, but it takes a tremendous amount of work and there are no shortcuts.

On the other hand, perhaps I had not been bold enough. Perhaps I should have forced him to tell me, exactly what he saw that August afternoon when he got home from work. I knew now that he had stumbled onto something terrible, and I suspected what it might have been. But this hadn't helped my patient one iota and, indeed, may have made things worse. Moreover, I had missed a golden opportunity to ask him his last name! The position of director, free of patient responsibility, suddenly seemed a very attractive idea.

JusT before she left for the weekend Betty told me she had given up on the idea of motherhood. I said I was sorry it hadn't worked out for her. She replied that I needn't be, and pointed out that there were already more than five billion human beings on Earth, and maybe that was enough. She had obviously been talking with prot.

As we were walking down the corridor she suggested that I stop in and see Maria. She wouldn't tell me why. I glanced at my watch. I had about five minutes before I had to leave for a fund-raising dinner at the Plaza. Sensing my impatience, she patted my arm. "It'll be worth it."

I found Maria in the quiet room talking with Ernie and Russell. She seemed uncharacteristically happy, so I thought it was a new alter I had encountered. But it was Maria herself! Although the answer was obvious, I asked her how she was feeling.

"Oh, Doctor Brewer, I have never felt so good. All the others are with me on this. I know it."

"With you on what? What happened?"

"I've decided to become a nun! Isn't it wonderful?" I found myself smiling broadly. The idea was so simple I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself. Perhaps because it was too simple. Perhaps we psychiatrists have a tendency to make things more complicated than they really are. In any case, there she was, nearly beside herself with joy.

I was beginning to feel better myself. "What made you decide to do that?"

"Ernie showed me how important it was to forgive my father and my brothers for what they did. After that, everything was different."

I congratulated Ernie on his help. "It wasn't my idea," he said. "It was prot's."

Russell seemed unsure about what to make of all this. "It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this man casteth out demons," he mumbled uncertainly, and shuffled away.

Maria watched him leave. "Of course it's only for a little while."

"Why only for a while?" I asked her.

"When prot comes back he's going to take me with him!"