libernaut
07-01-2009, 04:28 AM
The Exorcism of an Atheist
“Have you taken your anti-hyperdiskinetics today?”
They were in one of the offices in the hospital.
Peter looked at the Dr. through wide bewildered eyes.
What the **** did he just say?
In Movias eyes the Cyclopean visions began to form in his dilated vision, the deep abyss, an isle of nothing in an ocean of empty space ebony blue and green.
The Dr. stood with his arms cross in stilted and desperate expectation.
“Saul!”
Saul was lost in the thought again, people’s urgency with time, and the atomic uniformification of time. It was day light savings last week, and all this unnatural metamorphoses of people lives, based on some theory. Science knows better, look at the basics of quantum; to observe is to alter.
His voice spired to an echo in Saul’s ear drums.
The Cyclops spoke to Ulysses, high and mighty on his ivy throne of stained marble. Icy cold blues and reds, like frozen lakes. Ulysses thought that he might get away without so much as this, but yet again, his fate got the better of him.
“Who are you?”
“Saul…”
Later in the cafeteria of the sanitarium.
“People used to worship electricity, yaknow.”
He poured his bowl of lime jello down his throat.
“Ya know, at least we get jell-o.”
“I don’t get your point, bro who cares about the jell-o?”
“Then I can have yours right?”
C’mon, play one ****ing game of cards with me.”
Saul ate the second bowl of jell-o, watermelon, bomb.
The Doctor jotted a few notes onto his clipboard with his gold pen. He always kept it in his white coat pocket. He carried it like an award or trophy.
“Well, Saul… if this is how you are going to behave, we will just have to see to it that you lose your reading privileges.”
“I don’t read.” The patient replied.
“Look, you’ve been here three weeks now and you’ve barely said a word, now have you or haven’t you been taking your meds? And we have monitor you here, and no, yes, in fact you do read… quite a bit…” the doctor looked down at the patient in condescending pleasure in a matter of fact tone said “to the contrary besides the time spend sleeping you continually have a book on your person. And in those blue pajamas, it is very apparent. See, you have a book on you now, it is just closed at your side.”
Dr. Movias leaned in a little, Saul tucked away.
Movias eyes stared deep into the glasses or the bearded bipedal hominid before him, and smiled.
“Of course not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Who wants to know, Movias. I’ll be real with you, this is not really where I belong, all those heavy tranq meds make people crazy, not the other way around, and you have to understand that, OKAY. You can’t go around forcing people to take things they don’t want or need to take. In my opinion your degree to do that means nothing to me. I choose not to take them.” He shrugged.
“Ha. Well, Uhm, that’s the thing, here, where you are you, well…you don’t have that choice. The fact is you we’re brought here.”
“**** YOU MAN!”
Saul stood up and slugged the Dr. in his crooked face two times.
Movias recovered quite quickly, as if this had happened before or he’d seen it coming, almost instantly he pulled a transmitter from his coat and called:
“Security.”
…
Sometime down the line, Movias is his superiors office reviewing Saul’s report subject for review for moving onto phase two of his treatment, reintegration into society.
“Besides his stubborn attitude about cooperating with our requirements about the medications, he has actually been very polite and civil. I personally am not even sure he’s actually crazy.” Frank Bellingham spoke with a calm collectedness and had an auro of peace in this sanctity of his office.
“With all due respect Frank, he punched me in the face.” Movias held his bruised mug with his left hand as if adjusting it into place.
“Well, that’s true, and I have taken that into consideration.”
“Crazy is a broad term Frank.”
Frank, the head of the department stroked his chin, Dr. Movias, stiff in the wooden chair sat before the desk. His face twitched a little as he watched frank considering Saul, the ****ing prick punk kid who’d punched him in the face, and his possibly early release. His lip rose a little in cynicism and spite.
…
Months later, reintegrated into the world Saul is with a buddy who also did some time in the sanitarium:
“Movias is the crazy one, I know there’s something wrong with this dude, you could see it in his face, and he’d do this thing with his eye like he was tweaking out.”
“Hahaha oh yeah, I remember that ****, it’d be all moving around on its own when he’d be asking all those absurd questions and junk. I bet he was all jacked on Meds he prescribed himself or something, he was too creepy and weird not to be all ****ed up on something. Dude, the only good thing about that place was they had Jello and you could play cards.”
“Hahaha, the jello.”
They walked on for a minute in silence.
Peter hit the joint and exhaled the smoke into the dawn air, walking down the rails of the track while the first meager rays of the morning sun peaked through the ebbing overcast, the metal of the train tracks with puddles of dew on the rust from the winter cold over night.
They’d been spending time together again.
“Good, I thought I was the only one who noticed that. Pass that yonder.”
They reached out their hands as the walked and Saul hit the herb, a look of hope in his eyes as the sun reflected off their hooded sweatshirts in the dissolving yawning winter twilight.
“Have you taken your anti-hyperdiskinetics today?”
They were in one of the offices in the hospital.
Peter looked at the Dr. through wide bewildered eyes.
What the **** did he just say?
In Movias eyes the Cyclopean visions began to form in his dilated vision, the deep abyss, an isle of nothing in an ocean of empty space ebony blue and green.
The Dr. stood with his arms cross in stilted and desperate expectation.
“Saul!”
Saul was lost in the thought again, people’s urgency with time, and the atomic uniformification of time. It was day light savings last week, and all this unnatural metamorphoses of people lives, based on some theory. Science knows better, look at the basics of quantum; to observe is to alter.
His voice spired to an echo in Saul’s ear drums.
The Cyclops spoke to Ulysses, high and mighty on his ivy throne of stained marble. Icy cold blues and reds, like frozen lakes. Ulysses thought that he might get away without so much as this, but yet again, his fate got the better of him.
“Who are you?”
“Saul…”
Later in the cafeteria of the sanitarium.
“People used to worship electricity, yaknow.”
He poured his bowl of lime jello down his throat.
“Ya know, at least we get jell-o.”
“I don’t get your point, bro who cares about the jell-o?”
“Then I can have yours right?”
C’mon, play one ****ing game of cards with me.”
Saul ate the second bowl of jell-o, watermelon, bomb.
The Doctor jotted a few notes onto his clipboard with his gold pen. He always kept it in his white coat pocket. He carried it like an award or trophy.
“Well, Saul… if this is how you are going to behave, we will just have to see to it that you lose your reading privileges.”
“I don’t read.” The patient replied.
“Look, you’ve been here three weeks now and you’ve barely said a word, now have you or haven’t you been taking your meds? And we have monitor you here, and no, yes, in fact you do read… quite a bit…” the doctor looked down at the patient in condescending pleasure in a matter of fact tone said “to the contrary besides the time spend sleeping you continually have a book on your person. And in those blue pajamas, it is very apparent. See, you have a book on you now, it is just closed at your side.”
Dr. Movias leaned in a little, Saul tucked away.
Movias eyes stared deep into the glasses or the bearded bipedal hominid before him, and smiled.
“Of course not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Who wants to know, Movias. I’ll be real with you, this is not really where I belong, all those heavy tranq meds make people crazy, not the other way around, and you have to understand that, OKAY. You can’t go around forcing people to take things they don’t want or need to take. In my opinion your degree to do that means nothing to me. I choose not to take them.” He shrugged.
“Ha. Well, Uhm, that’s the thing, here, where you are you, well…you don’t have that choice. The fact is you we’re brought here.”
“**** YOU MAN!”
Saul stood up and slugged the Dr. in his crooked face two times.
Movias recovered quite quickly, as if this had happened before or he’d seen it coming, almost instantly he pulled a transmitter from his coat and called:
“Security.”
…
Sometime down the line, Movias is his superiors office reviewing Saul’s report subject for review for moving onto phase two of his treatment, reintegration into society.
“Besides his stubborn attitude about cooperating with our requirements about the medications, he has actually been very polite and civil. I personally am not even sure he’s actually crazy.” Frank Bellingham spoke with a calm collectedness and had an auro of peace in this sanctity of his office.
“With all due respect Frank, he punched me in the face.” Movias held his bruised mug with his left hand as if adjusting it into place.
“Well, that’s true, and I have taken that into consideration.”
“Crazy is a broad term Frank.”
Frank, the head of the department stroked his chin, Dr. Movias, stiff in the wooden chair sat before the desk. His face twitched a little as he watched frank considering Saul, the ****ing prick punk kid who’d punched him in the face, and his possibly early release. His lip rose a little in cynicism and spite.
…
Months later, reintegrated into the world Saul is with a buddy who also did some time in the sanitarium:
“Movias is the crazy one, I know there’s something wrong with this dude, you could see it in his face, and he’d do this thing with his eye like he was tweaking out.”
“Hahaha oh yeah, I remember that ****, it’d be all moving around on its own when he’d be asking all those absurd questions and junk. I bet he was all jacked on Meds he prescribed himself or something, he was too creepy and weird not to be all ****ed up on something. Dude, the only good thing about that place was they had Jello and you could play cards.”
“Hahaha, the jello.”
They walked on for a minute in silence.
Peter hit the joint and exhaled the smoke into the dawn air, walking down the rails of the track while the first meager rays of the morning sun peaked through the ebbing overcast, the metal of the train tracks with puddles of dew on the rust from the winter cold over night.
They’d been spending time together again.
“Good, I thought I was the only one who noticed that. Pass that yonder.”
They reached out their hands as the walked and Saul hit the herb, a look of hope in his eyes as the sun reflected off their hooded sweatshirts in the dissolving yawning winter twilight.