Chapter 8

My lengthy discussion with the doctor was enlightening, to say the least. When he insisted too strongly that I was at fault, I obfuscated by telling him about her parents, their sectarian believes, their zealous application of stupid man-made rules regarding bodily functions. He was hopping about on his mental toes immediately.

"Thank you. This explains some of the problems we are having with the patient. You are not family, I cannot tell you of my findings with her. Yet, there exists some connection to you, I am certain of it. She does not volunteer anything, does hardly speak at all and shuts down completely when I try to talk about sexual matters. – Do you have a history with her? Before her marriage? Or did the two of you cuckold her husband? You must help me, or she will get worse, perhaps even beyond recovery."

The way I read him, he saw me as the main culprit. I told him that there was nothing of the kind at all. There had never been any sexual attraction between us, we re-met through sheer happenstance: our surprise mutual.

My being able to outguess him made lying much easier. Whenever his thoughts took directions I wanted to avoid, I would utter a few bits of information about the familial situation to steer him off-track. He got very annoyed by that. He even suspected me of having some psychiatric training!

"Doctor, you keep harping about possible sexual angles being at the root. This may well be the case, in fact I am quite certain of it, but that does not include me. Forget that! If you do not believe me, this discussion is finished and I shall leave. The husband should be able to help you there. Why don't you ask him, I wonder?"

The good doctor blustered a bit, said he hadn't got around to it, so much to do, the puzzle so complex. Would I try to speak to Karla now, without upsetting her, please? And see him after my visit? It went without saying that he would monitor my visit.

Of course I had to agree and left for my confrontation with Karla. She had a room of her own, a minor miracle in our cost-conscious health-care system, and I entered after knocking. She lay on her bed, a desolate figure of gloom, her eyes sunken deeply into her skull, rimmed by dark haloes, her hair dull and stringy. She gave no outward sign of acknowledging my presence, stared straight ahead, her hands flat and stiff on the sheets, aside her body. The room smelled exceedingly stale, body odours with faint whiffs of excretions.

I pulled a chair close, sat down and looked at her quietly. To be ashamed is one thing and, with the exception of the most callous and cruel, the genuine sociopaths, it happens to all of us, but the impression of sheer misery I got from her nearly drove me away. On top of it, she appeared afraid I would hurl more accusations at her and was dejected, not knowing how to evade her fate. For once, my heart went out to her.

"Aunt Kamilla sends her love, Karla. She wishes you well."

Whatever she came to expect, this wasn't it. She was startled enough to look at me for the first time, her eyes brimful with tears.

"Aunt ... Kamilla ... what ... you?"

Her voice was hoarse, she spoke haltingly, the question clear. Quietly and unemotionally, I told her of my visit. The unsuccessful attempt to speak to her parents, the good session with her aunt. In the end I told her that I understood her torment, apologised for my brutal attack. When her right hand shook lightly I reached out and held it still, without speaking for a long time.

The bio-feedback told of her conflicting emotions, her shame of having been found out, her confusion by my now gentle and caring approach. What my disc conveyed to her I couldn't tell. I saw no signs of enhanced awareness on her side. After a while she became very calm. She looked at our interlaced hands, lifted them up, inspected them as if they bore some secret message and, with a great sigh, let them settle on the sheets once more, our contact unbroken.

Despite of all warnings received, my great fear of failure and my inherent reluctance to share my innermost feelings, I told her something of myself. I spoke of my very early awareness of the opposite gender, of being in really deep – platonic – love for the first and only time in my life, long before I even reached puberty. I spoke of the difference between 'pure' love and 'normal' love, the first encountered rather seldom, the second more often defined by instant lust rather than lasting emotions. And I spoke of the disillusionment of my formative years, when once I had to enter a toilet, right after a young woman of exceptional beauty and refined bearing had used it. The stench was quite horrible. That was it for me, for a very long time. I could not reconcile the physical with the spiritual. This traumatic experience left me so scarred, it took me years of hesitation, trembling shyness and insecurity and, finally, the advice of a fatherly philosopher friend to overcome my dilemmas. He made me understand that we all are just animals in disguise, imperfect animals at that. Our mostly identical body-functions perhaps a means by some unknown power to keep us from becoming too big-headed and conceited. I also understood that we raised ourselves above the pure animal only by employing our human capacities: trust, loyalty, love, friendship and humour, among others. And don't forget hygiene, this being a concept unique to mankind, even if it is not universally employed in equal measure. He also told me that becoming an adult meant to leave the childish fixation with genitals and bodily functions behind and discover the transcendental eros.

I also spoke to her of my conviction that monogamy is indeed a wrong turn of society. That the differences between man and woman are in fact irreconcilable and that marriage makes sense only for the purpose of raising children in disjointed communities. It is, however, not impossible to find companionship across the gender gap, this good bond which is cemented by enjoying each other's bodies as well.

Deeper than that I did not go. I had noticed that Karla had become much calmer and that she followed my musings with lively interest. She asked nothing, never spoke a single word, but held my hand throughout. Therefore I switched topics intentionally and mentioned that Helmut's company made good progress with the plans for our house. She became apprehensive again. I felt it strongly. She was wondering whether I had told him of her accusations. How could she face up to him, if I had? Those thoughts I ignored deliberately and asked her instead if I could visit with her again. No mention was made of Helmut's impending visit.

She nodded feebly. "I am so tired. Please go now."

The doctor displayed a sickly zeal about my visit, licked his bloodless lips, rubbed his hands eagerly, spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth. He was very keen to find out what made me tick in relation to her. Yes, she seemed to have calmed down a lot and yes, I held her hand while speaking to her, not with her. I had permission to come again.

"I believe that she will mend eventually, doctor. With your good assistance of course. And try to care properly for her. She looks and smells terrible."

The quack did not like my admonition. He was easy to read. And he downright hated what he termed, in his mind, my slimy evasiveness. I had no problems with that and left him. Staring after me, as revealed by his reflected image in the glass front door. He would be onto Karla in mere seconds. Poor woman...

Elise had to hear the full story of course but I did not want to tell it over and over. Not after that doctor's third degree. I called Alfred and Jake instead and agreed to a full download, got the headache pills handy.

"Bert, please, stick to English thoughts as much as possible. The headache I have is worse than yours. – You did good today. By telling her about yourself – you never talked to me nor Jake about those experiences of yours! –, you induced her to reconsider her own preset sentiments. You fared well with the doctor too. Be wary of him. I suspect that he is not a healer, just a reasonably competent human engineer. You know the difference. He can do you great harm if he catches you doing anything which runs contrary to his so-called code of ethics. What will you do next?"

Elise and I had discussed this. I would go and see Helmut, obviously to further our house plans, whereas she would come along, full of empathy, to find a way to gain the girls' confidence. At least with her it wasn't a sham.

I told my friends of my experiences with the discs. Jake took me up on it and said that he had experimented with the Heavy Matter, and Alfred's special use of it, some more.

"Bert, I can't delve as deep as Alfred can. But we proved conclusively that awareness increases dramatically. We suspected this when we used our earlier devices. I now estimate the increase to be by a factor of 3, though sensitivity varies from person to person. You would find me at the bottom of the ladder. I just stumble along."

I did not reply to Jake. Instead I asked Alfred if I could try the data download from my side, just once.