by M. Suddain
The doctor’s smile was palpable, even behind his distorting field. ‘I know, why bother. You don’t need to worry, we have no problem with people attempting to collect data. We’re confident most of it’ll be wrong? An individual’s experiences of our establishment are very case-specific. Anyway, I explain it much better in my book.’16 He stood awkwardly and went to his desk to pick up a large book, which he offered to me. And by that I mean he set it in the air, gave it a little push, and it floated towards me like it was on the surface of a gently moving stream. I took the book from the air. I noticed the entire cover was taken up with his photo. I could see he was middle-aged, with dark glasses and a shaggy, orangey beard. He had one chubby hand resting under his chin, and he smiled coyly for the camera. I looked at the blob of light by the desk. I noticed that by looking a few feet to his right I could make him come into sharper detail. He wore a kind of robe over tan canvas trousers and sandals. I noticed, also, that most of the volumes on his shelves were copies of his book,17 Infinity Remastered. The blob said, ‘Would you like to read it? It would mean a lot to me. I could forward a copy to wherever you’re staying if you like?’ and I had no idea what I was bringing on myself when I said, ‘Sure. I’d be happy to.’
‘Amazing. I’m touched. We should push on? We have a long journey together.’ He sat at his desk, picked up a set of square cards. ‘This is just a brief introductory screening session? I don’t want to keep you here all night when you could be off dreaming of beautiful ladies, am I right?’
‘… Right.’
I’m going to show you some cards on which ink has been randomised? Yes? Just tell me the first thing you see when I show them to you. There are no wrong answers.’ He held a card up. I could see it clearly, and I could clearly see his hand, the well-manicured nails, the astonishingly hairy knuckles. ‘Knuckles,’ I said.
‘That’s a wrong answer. No, I’m kidding. And this one?’
‘Clown.’
‘Good. And this?’
‘It’s an angry moth.’
‘Good. Did you say “moth”, or “mouth”?’
‘Moth.’
‘Good. Now I want you to relax even more deeply.’ The image on the card he held began to change rapidly, flicking to another every second, every half-second, every quarter-second, until perhaps a thousand images fired past my eyes each second, leaving my mind a mess of hypnotically charged blobs. I heard the doctor say: ‘Good. Just keep breathing deeply. Let peace in.’ This went on for a full minute before he finally took the card away, saying, ‘Good. There’s certainly plenty to work with in there, hey?’ He began to lay cards down on the table in a grid, like a fortune-teller. ‘So where do we start? Tell me about clowns?’
‘They’re painted juvenile entertainers. Entertainers of juveniles.’
‘I know what they are. I’m interested in your relationship with them?’
‘I’ve never had a relationship with a clown.’
‘I sense you don’t want to talk about clowns.’
‘No. No point.’
‘That’s fine. This is a safe space. Relatively clown-free. Ha ha.’ He cleared his throat. ‘No, but I’m getting the name Blades?’
‘I don’t know anyone with that name.’
‘I see a repression bubble there?’
‘A what now?’
‘That’s perfectly fine. We can put a pin in clowns, hey? You have a friend called Gladys Green … No?’
‘Friend would be pushing it.’
‘How long have you known her?’
‘Why are you asking me about Gladys?’
‘You don’t want to talk about Gladys either? We could talk about your mother.’
‘I employed Gladys for almost three insane years. Next month would have been our insanniversary. If I hadn’t fired her recently.’
‘You have an anniversary?’
‘Insanniversary. I usually get her drunk and take her to a shooting range.’
‘How romantic. And how would you describe your relationship, generally? One being strictly professional, and ten being … you know.’
‘It’s minus one.’
‘That’s fine. The more I can know about your life the more we can tailor your visit.’
‘My what now?’
‘Your visit? I brought you here because we’re considering new admissions. We’d like you to visit us here – at our little hotel.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘No joke! Please, sit, breathe. Refasten your robe. Or don’t, this is a safe place. We’re sorry we waited so long. My employer is currently in the process of moving his establishment to the next level. We’re overhauling our list and we think you’d be a great fit. You have certain attributes which outweigh the negative aspects of your vocation. So we’re going to briefly route around our policy of not admitting journalists or critics. Everyone’s excited. The staff can’t wait to meet you. We can explain more about the specifics when you come out. We’ll take care of all the arrangements. We’ll send a card with your UIIS.’
‘My what?’
‘Your Unique Inductee Identification Serial. You’ll be working closely with me over the next few months to prepare you for the induction process. I’ll need to be sure you’re mentally and emotionally prepared? Which’ll mean a LOT more probing questions about your mother. Ha ha. No, I’m kidding. Just a few more.’
‘So I’ll get to dine in the Undersea.’
‘Of course. If that’s what you want. Please, sit.’
‘I’ll need a table in the corner if that’s possible. I need to concentrate when I work. There should be no flowers or other aromatics. And no music if possible. And I’d prefer no “stop bys”.’
‘Jonathan, you don’t need to worry. You’ll have a perfect meal. Everything will be taken care of. Rojiibo is a genius? But listen, my Master has taken a special interest in you? Do you know what that means?’
‘No.’
‘And you never will. But it raises certain consequences. Things have to go very smoothly. So you can’t mention to anyone that we’ve contacted you? Especially not Ms Green.’
‘She’s no longer in my service, I assure you.’
‘Oh? Well, good. And you must come on time, and on the correct day. We’ll expect you to catch the Night Ferry at 10 p.m. on 12/24 of the celestial month your invitation arrives? That’s Terrestrial Calendar? Are you listening, Jonathan?’
‘Yes, yes. And I’ll be dining in the Undersea that evening?’
‘Well, we can make those arrangements once you’re here. I’ll be in touch about our next session. So much to discuss. Are you certain you don’t know a Mr Blades? He came through strongly.’
‘I’ve met so many people.’
‘Of course, you’re a fêted gentleman. The Tomahawk!’ He framed his face with his hands. Could he be mocking me?
‘There was a clown who entertained at a birthday party I had when I was a boy.’
‘And what happened at this party?’
‘It was an ordinary party for my eighth. He entertained us with tricks.’
‘What kind of tricks?’
‘Tricks of swallowing. The clown liked to swallow things … What’s to add?’
‘I sense there’s a lot to add, Jonathan. You’ll need to face these issues eventually? It’s best to be as resolved as possible before an induction. Jonathan?’
‘What’s that music?’ A note suspended in the air, high and continuous, like the sound of a blade being dragged slowly along a steel rail. It came from the corridor beyond the vaulted doors of the ballroom.
‘I’m not playing music. I despise music. Why don’t you sit down again, take some deep breaths, hey? If you’re experiencing some sort of psychic disturbance it could help to talk about it. Tell me more about that birthday party.’
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, it went.
‘There’s nothing to tell!’ I shouted above the noise. ‘A clown came to our house. H
e entertained us by putting blades in his mouth and throat! Wait, what do you mean you despise music?’
‘I find it pointless and irritating? You know?’ Now the note had risen so high in frequency it was barely audible. And then, mercifully, it faded and vanished.
‘Very interesting.’
‘What is, Doctor?’
‘Hmm? Nothing important. My Master is calling me. You’re going to wake from your enchantment now. Take care no masonry falls on you or you’ll be trapped here forever. Buh-bye!’
And then he exploded into a column of hot sand, and the whole place began to come down around me. Huge slabs of masonry smashed into the ground behind me as I ran. I barely made it back to the world.
I would see more of Doctor Rubin Difflaydermaus, BBDSM, over the coming months than I was comfortable with. He would haunt my nights with his inane questions and quarter-baked psychological theories. It turns out he isn’t even a qualified psychotherapist. His specialty is computational neurology. Whatever that is.
And now, almost a year later, here I was, back in that same hotel – the real hotel this time, not some azure replication – back in my right mind – almost – and trying my best not to let this night-invading practitioner drive me back into the clutches of insanity. ‘Try to breathe, Jonathan.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Inductions always start on rough waters. Let’s try to focus on the good things? I hear it’s your birthday. Congrats!’
‘I don’t celebrate my birthday.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why would I? Which sane person wants to remember the moment he clawed his way from his mother’s ravaged ghoul-hatch into a room of masked and sterile strangers?’
‘It’s reasonably unpleasant for the woman, too, I hear?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘And yet from that monstrous scene comes life, the rejuvenation of the primal energy of the universe, hey? We have to commemorate the monstrous moments, don’t we? … Yes? … No? I’m sensing no. Well, like it or not I want to lavish. Yes? It’s my prerogative. I have a gift.’
‘If it’s your book,18 I already have it.’
‘Amazing!’ I heard the heavy book19 fall on his desk. ‘I didn’t know if the copies I sent reached you. Well? What did you think? Your critical opinion interests me. Go on, do your worst!’
‘Your book?20 I thought it was interesting. A little needy. A little high-pitched. A little flabby in places. Especially around the middle.’
‘Well, I’m no artist like you, hey? I just try to write truthfully?’
I had loosely understood Infinity Remastered from the first few dozen pages I’d skimmed. He proposed that consciousness was as mappable as any island. He proposed using powerful computers to explore and store our thoughts and memories. The subject was right out of a futuristic novel. When I started telling Gladys she’d seemed genuinely interested, so I stopped.
‘So as I was saying, I need to get your thoughts on Ms Green before we meet?’
‘Why would you talk to her?’
‘Why would I not?’
‘I don’t care, I just don’t understand why.’
‘Oh? Because you sound like you care?’
‘I don’t.’
‘She’s a guest, and I have to screen all guests. It’s the rules? And she’s a potential security threat. Also, she violently murdered our mop boy … Franz?’
‘She … this … this is all madness.’
‘I agree. A broomstick through the head. I couldn’t swallow when I heard.’
‘This is all fucking … I’ve had enough. I want to talk to someone real.’
‘Someone real?’
‘Yes. A person. Someone with authority. Not some squirt of ink with delusions of grandeur. Not some bunch of code.’
‘You’re a bunch of code, Jonathan.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘You are. You’re a packet of chemical codes with delusions of grandeur. Your impulse to live creates the illusion of free will, but in reality you’re a set of unconscious urges dressed up as will. Hey? I could adjust your hormone levels by a few per cent and you’d be an entirely new person.’
‘Well, anyway, you can’t talk to Gladys. I forbid you to have a session with her.’
‘You forbid me?’
‘Yes.’
‘What are you afraid of, Jonathan? That she’ll tell all your juicy secrets?’
‘Gladys couldn’t give two vertical shits about my secrets.’
‘Well, it’s going to happen, Jonathan. Our Master is adamant. So that’s why I wanted to talk to you first? Because my session with her needs to go well, yes? I’m actually a little nervous about meeting her finally. She sounds like an intimidating female.’
‘What do you mean “finally”?’
‘I mean, I’ve heard so much about her. Everyone’s talking. Do you have any advice? I want our sessions to be productive.’
‘Advice? Well, Gladys secretly craves displays of male power. I’d go on the offensive early, put her in her place. Tell her you’re a man, and you’re the boss, and she better behave. Otherwise she’ll walk all over you. She likes it when you buy her feminine gifts like flowers and such. And I’d definitely call her a female.’
‘That’s very useful, Jonathan. I appreciate your help. See, this doesn’t have to be combative. Do you want to talk about any of your issues while you’re here? Your mother? Your drinking? It can help to talk. For example, in my self-analysis session today I free-associated my way to the unearthing of a homoerotic attraction I had to a comic-book hero when I was nine.’
Fucking hell. I needed to get off the line before his confession reached its inevitably skin-crawling climax. Unfortunately, as I’d discovered, there was only one way to rouse yourself from one of Doctor Difflaydermaus’s in-sleep therapy sessions, and that was to enact some kind of painful violence on your physical self. Slapping sometimes worked. And burning your wrist on a lamp bulb or naked flame was effective. But I was now in the monster’s lair. He could induce sleep through the ventilation systems. I needed to wake and warn G before he tried to raid her head.
‘Well, this has been fun, Rubin, but I really need to get back to reality.’ I put down the receiver, got up from my bed, heard a shrill, tinny voice say, ‘No! Wait, Jonathan, please. Just one last thing.’
‘What?’
‘It’s about Shabazzniov. The concierge? I need you to keep on his good side? He’s a proud man, and he feels put out that we overruled his decision to refuse your friends admission. So please, please do what he says and cooperate with his unpacking? If you do, everything will go smoothly.’
‘So you’re saying my friends are safe. They won’t come to any harm.’
‘For now. Provided you cooperate with us.’
‘Right, whatever you say …’
‘Jonathan, one more thing!’
‘What?’
‘Will you fill out my Satisfaction Questionnaire?’
‘Goodnight, Doctor.’
‘J-man, wait!’
I took a deep breath, ran head first at the massive old wardrobe in the corner. Heard the sound of wood splitting, slipped into darkness.
I came up from the primordial ooze, through the dizzy mobs, the milky jelly, hauled myself onto the shores of the land of the living. My head was filled with spastically electric stars. I felt my presence flow into the world once more. I heard a voice.
‘Holy fuck, Boss. You just ran head first into that wardrobe.’
‘What are you doing in my room, Beast?’
‘One minute you were lying down asleep …’
‘Yes, I know.’ I picked myself up from the floor, observed the spider-webbed head-dent in the door of the antique wardrobe. Another thing to pay for. With money I didn’t have. There were shock waves reverberating through my skull. Also, I was confronted with the fact that my room had shrunk at least another foot. I have an eye for it.
‘You’re gonna have a monster bump.’
>
‘I know. What are you doing here?’
‘This is bad, John.’
So. The Beast had woken.
‘We have a hamper, Beast, remember?’
‘I ate the hamper, John. Ate the whole damned thing. Now I have a headache.’
‘You don’t say.’ I wouldn’t put it past him to have literally consumed the golden wicker like it was a waxed and woven bail of life-sustaining hay. My investigation would conclude that he’d demolished the contents. The packaging showed signs of having been sanded clean by a massive, cow-like tongue. ‘That hamper was supposed to last us another day, you beast! What are Gladys and I supposed to eat?’ He looked as if he didn’t really understand the question. He pressed his meaty fingers together and shrugged desperately. ‘I need fuel, John. That’s our deal. You give me fuel, and I work. I’m your workhorse.’
‘I’ll sort it, Beast. Just try to … try to focus on something else. Think about that small girl again. She was terrifying, right?’
‘I guess. Just so hungry.’
My own body felt strange and unfamiliar. My head was pounding. He’d eaten all the nuts and seeds and figs behind the bar, too. And all the complimentary fortune biscuits, and the edible strips of paper inside, so I really have no idea what’s in store for us. I found one strip of paper which had fallen down behind the bar: ‘Crisis is an opportunity riding the dangerous wind.’
I’m sure you must be curious about Daniel, Colette. I met the man I’d come to call Beast at the Court of Civil Justice, on Corinthia. I was suing my own estate for appointing a psychic medium as executor. After a torrid first morning in court, I found myself in the court’s only bar, which wouldn’t serve me.
‘You’re Tamberlain? An order came through this morning, saying I wasn’t to serve you.’
Esmeralda. She’d started a kind of war against me since she heard I’d become a critic. She was ruthless. But this … this was a whole new level. To get between a man and his drinking …
That’s when a deep and resonant voice beside me said, ‘Say, friend, you look thirsty. How about I fix your problem, and you fix mine.’
