Patient #1 - Short Story

The doctor walked slowly down the corridor, leaning heavily on his cane. Time had long since stopped being his friend as each day his body seemed to advance a little further in its war against his desires. He reached his hand up to stroke his beard, but stopped himself from the habit. He had grown fond of his beard. It first appeared almost forty years ago after his wife had told him it made seem more friendly and approachable.

Soldiers saluted as he passed by. Briefly he entertained the thought that they were saluting for him, the famous and well-respected psychologist known across the academic land. No, that was not the case. They saluted the flashy and slightly repulsive man who walked beside him. The general reeked of his own arrogance and power. Others would assume that as they walked the general had been talking about his extensive views on politics and intermixed with lengthy descriptions of his army base. The doctor knew the man truly spoke only about himself. The general was a man living his life in chains, bound by the very expectations he had placed on himself. The doctor laughed a little after this thought, wasn’t this true of everyone?

“You find the defenses amusing?” asked the general curiously as they stopped before a door at the end of the hall. Two more guards were stationed outside the door. The general assured him there were at least two directly outside the door every our of the day and night. “The precautions are after all only commensurate to the value of what they guard."

The doctor smiled for the general. There was of course no way that he could find such precautions amusing. Such a great find of such vast importance had to be protected in all ways possible.

“Hmm,” mused the general. “Protection is I suppose one function of the guards. But a door can go both ways, no?”

The general gestured to one of the guards who turned and keyed in an access code. The door slid smoothly open. The general walked forward, but the doctor put his arm on the general’s shoulder. The doctor worked alone. There was to be no interference from the outside.

The general looked vaguely annoyed at this, but the doctor reassured him that this had been part of the initial agreement on his part to come. The general gave a smile that only barely hid the annoyance the man obviously felt as he again agreed to this. The doctor gave a grateful smile and leaned heavily on his cane as he walked into the room.

The room was large and dimly lit by soft overhead lights. It had several areas divided into sections by furniture. Off to the left was obviously a bedroom with a small living area off to the right. In the back of the room were two wooden overflowing bookshelves. The doctor understood that he would not be truly alone with the subject, the many cameras mounted on the ceiling made sure of that. It was in the back of the room that the doctor was given his first view of the boy. The boy seemed to be about eleven years old and was wearing workout pants with a white t-shit as he stood on an exercise mat.

The boy of course knew the doctor had entered, but had given no indication as yet of acknowledgement. The doctor was fine with this and stood waiting to be received. Better to give the other the illusory position of power by being able to start the conversation on his own terms.

The boy’s body stretched and contorted as he exercised. It looked like some form of Yoga or Tai Chi, but as the doctor studied he was fairly sure this was neither. Perhaps it was something of the boy’s own invention.

Whatever it may have been, it was certainly impressive. However difficult the position, the boy’s face was one of outward calm. As he continued, the only sign of difficulty was the slight shaking of the limbs and the constant drips of sweat that had already darkened the mat beneath.

A small measure of guilt wafted past the doctor’s mind as he turned his awareness toward his own body. Not really overweight. He had never been truly overweight. Of course, he had never been that healthy either. So what if he liked desserts and disliked exercise? That was only the natural state of things. The doctor wouldn’t apologize for giving in to such desires. He was older now, and it was no use moping about things that were now too late to change.

The boy finished and lay on the floor, his eyes now closed and almost covered by his blond hair. The doctor thought he might have drifted to sleep. However, the boy’s breathing belied this thought, too intentional to be real.

“What do you want?” demanded the boy after a space, opening his eyes and tilting his head slightly to give the doctor a cold, calculating stare. The boy’s eyes were a dark blue, a deep blue.

The doctor felt suddenly uncomfortable beneath the unrelenting gaze, the eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him. Put such foolish thoughts out of your mind the doctor chided himself. He took a couple steps forward, slightly exaggerating his limp. See, I am of no threat at all. The doctor introduced himself, but the boy seemed uncaring about such things.

“So many before you have tried,” said the boy, obviously aware of the reason behind the visit. “They have all went away disappointed.”

The boy sat up and dropped the smile. The doctor, however, had expected such a welcome. He had already decided that the best strategy would be the truth. As the general had explained on the first day he had come to his office to request his assistance, the boy had been discovered and captured over forty years ago. To this day, he had shown no sign of outward aging. How long had this boy been alive? How had this happened? These were the questions, and it was a mystery where only one knew the answer.

“And what if I give you the answer?” asked the boy with a hint of contempt. “What then? Will you fall down and offer your thanks? Will whichever government that is in power now share this gift to all without prejudice? Is it even a gift that ought to be shared? What will I become when my body and memory are of no further use?”

The doctor came then to accept what he hadn't allowed himself to believe. This boy had more experience and wisdom than his youthful frame suggested. The doctor could again only reply to such questions with part of the truth. The boy’s eyes argued that he would know if the doctor said anything other. But there’s no need to assume the worst.

“There is a story about two birds I once heard,” replied the boy. “The fox only has time to kill one. The other is able to fly away.” The boy paused briefly. “But then the other dies from a hunter the next day."

A sense of humor, maybe just depression? Either way the boy showed no trust at all. The boy has closed himself away.

The doctor stayed for a little while longer before ending the first session. This couldn’t be solved with just one visit. If any trust could develop, it could only happen slowly.

The doctor came back every week. The boy often would not talk to him at all. Sometimes the boy simply got in his bed and went to sleep.

The boy’s breakdown was unexpected and sudden. After constantly ignoring the doctor through action, inaction, or simply through sarcastic remarks, on one visit the boy finally let his guard down.

It began with the boy’s own comment in a moment of uncharacteristic verbosity. “All of you,” said the boy, “You drift through life in terror. You live ever hour in a constant mire of misery and imagine to yourself that if only you could live forever, all misery would fall away from you like ice melting in the sun.”

The doctor was surprised. The boy’s words were poetic. The doctor smiled and replied that maybe this statement said more about the boy than it did about him. Despite all the egotism such a statement implied, despite the haughty and cold demeanor he gave the doctor in every visit, despite the derision and scorn and unabashed loathing the boy displayed, was this not all simply a wall to protect him from misery?

After all, the saddest moments of life are the times we say goodbye to something we've come to love. Maybe such a person as he would never have to say goodbye to life, but everything and everyone else has to say goodbye to him. Maybe such a person would actually be a little envious of those who walked ahead of himself.

“Foolish,” said the boy as he stood up and walked away.

Perhaps he was thinking of memories of long ago. Perhaps he saw images of smiling friends, a laughing sister, a loving family. A long life must certainly have been filled with many friends over the years. Was it hard to say goodbye? Was it even harder knowing you couldn’t follow?

“Shut up,” yelled the boy from the corner. “And I’m not crying,” protested the boy in response to the doctor’s glance, but the boy’s hand wiping his face clearly said something else.

The doctor ignored the command and pressed onward. Perhaps the boy had once sought comfort by making new friends. Perhaps he found solace in their laughter. Was it harder to say goodbye the second time? Was it ever harder the third? How could such a pattern not drive a person mad? Ah, that was how. The doctor explained his sudden revelation. The process could perhaps be stopped by setting up a wall, by refusing to seek solace. Perhaps time itself would lend its aid. Everything is easier to bear the next morning. But what if all you saw was a reminder? This boy wasn’t arrogant at all. He didn’t look down on others. He envied them. They weren’t left alone.

The boy’s body in the corner racked with sobs. The doctor didn’t know what to say to comfort him. What could be said? Was it going to get better? The doctor simply walked to the boy and held him close. What else was there to do? When the tears were at last spent, the boy slept. The doctor set him down softly.

Departing the room he was greeted with an eager face. The boy was broken; he would surely tell the doctor everything. The doctor simply must come back tomorrow for the next interview or better yet go back in now, take advantage of the boy’s weakness.

The doctor looked the general in the eye. “Let the boy go,” he said softly. “Let him find what peace he can in his own way. Let his curse live and die with him alone.”

The doctor walked away, leaving only stunned faces in his wake.

“This is to help others,” yelled the general after him. “This secret could help cure diseases. It could help save millions of lives. It could change the world! How could you walk away from this?”

The doctor, however, continued to lean on his cane and amble slowly down the hall, disgusted at the man who continued to shout after him. Others may think he spoke of humanitarianism. The doctor knew that the man spoke only of himself.