“Do you think a person should be required to wear a seat belt?” Razzbury asked suddenly, as he jumped up from his chair and stared into the abyss. Etiole’s older brother had been sitting silent for several moments and now was suddenly talking.

Harrier, the chief psychiatrist of White Rock, took an interest in Razz’s sudden outburst, largely because he took an interest in any of the Swanzen patients. Harrier found the Swanzen propensity for madness to be a fascinating study, considering several generations of their raving lunatics were now locked in chains here at White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Razzbury Swanzen was Sir Roderic’s son, Melaca’s grandson, and Quaraun’s great-grand son. Though one of the wilder of the Swanzen’s Razz was deemed safe to interact with Humans, as he displayed no homicidal tenancies and had never been known to kill or eat any living thing. Thus Razz was an outpatient, allowed to come and go as he pleased, so long as he checked in with Harrier once a week, which is why Razz was here at White Rock today.

“It’s very important, you see,” Razz continued on. “It helps make sure they get home from work in one piece because if they don’t, it can lead to their death!”

“Yes, yes,” Harrier said, trying to calm the Razz down. “What are you doing?”

“And so we’re asking, where does the need for a seat belt come from? Do you think it’s necessary to protect someone from flying into a window or being stuck in traffic on a busy road?”

“Seat belts save lives,” Harrier stated.

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Razz said. “No one wears seat belts because they don’t think they need to. They need to! It can prevent serious or fatal injuries!”

“Are you scared of wearing a seat belt?” asked the psychiatrist.

“Of course not!” Razz exclaimed. “I’m just saying that it needs to be used!”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Harrier said.

“But what about when that person is a child?” questioned Razz. “What if they’re in a car crash and the belt doesn’t work? They could get terribly hurt or even die!”

“That’s why we require seat belts for children,” Harrier explained.

“What happens if they fall asleep on their way home?” questioned Razzbury. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And an adult comes along and accidentally hits them with the car?”

“As for that, I would hope that the adults who hit them would stop and check to see if they’re okay,” Harrier said.

“They might die,” said Razz, as paranoia swept over his mind.

“Not always,” Harrier said. “I’m sure there are some people who would think twice about hitting a sleeping child with a car. I’m sure there are some people who would never do such a thing. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“You don’t drive,” Razz stated, keeping his demeanour as calm as possible, which, for someone as manic and hyper as Razzbury was, was very difficult. He was constantly twitching and fidgeting in his chair, as though he had ants running all over him.

“No. I do not.”

Harrier wondered how long Razz could stay seated. Harrier had seen no one who wriggled around as much as Razzbury did.

“You don’t even have a car,” Razz went on, still as calm and collected as his hyperactive brain would allow him to be.

“No. I don’t. I don’t need one,” replied the psychiatrist.

“How do you get around?”

“I’m a Phooka,” the doctor pointed out. “I can Blink and Fey Step or turn into a bird and fly. My animal form is a Harrier Hawk, you know.”

“Oh yeah. I forget Phookas are Faeries and not Humans. I never see you guys do the animal form thing much.”

“No. It’s best to pretend to be Human,” Harrier explained. “Very few Humans believe in the existence of magical creatures these days, so it’s best to stay undercover.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Razzbury admitted, as he tilted his head and looked at the shadows on the wall.

“The thing is, I’d rather be a Hawk or a Faerie than a Human,” Harrier admitted.

“But you’re not a Human,” Razz said, wrinkling his nose as he spoke. “Nasty creatures, Humans are. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to be one.”

“One can not choose what one is born as.”

“You’re a Faerie,” Razz said, twiddling his thumbs and swinging his feet.

“Yes,” Harrier agreed. “And I’m your doctor and you’re my patent and I’m the one who is supposed to be psychoanalyzing you, not the other way around.”

“And if they didn’t hit the driver,” Razz said, snapping his jelly bracelets as he spoke. “He could just as easily do that again, so maybe you don’t think safety belts should be such a thing anymore, but you’re still living your life and I hope there’s something you can change about society now, okay?”

“But what does this have to do with seat belts?”

“Because, well

,” Razz said, his voice quivering and quavering nervously. “You see, when a powerful Faerie is struck by a Human, it might die. It might not recover. I might not recover. This is a very dangerous game that we play and I don’t like it.”

“But you are not a Faerie,” Harrier reminded his frightened patient. “You are an Ecrodon.”

“An Elf,” Razz corrected.

“Yes.” Harrier nodded. “An Ecrodon.”

“We are Moon Elves.”

“Ecrodon is the correct word. Moon Elf is the name Humans gave your people.”

“It doesn’t seem like anyone else agrees that seat belts are necessary,” Razz said, seemingly talking now, just for the sake of keeping talking. “And yet they’re the ones who put the idea of having seat belts into our heads. And then we go and try to find them, because what kind of person wants to walk around with their eyes shut all day without feeling safe? The answer is many people, which isn’t really surprising.”

“I see your point,” said Harrier.

“Will you let me finish!” Razz snapped angrily. “You could be trained up and taught better conduct, including the proper ways to interact with royalty.”

“Sorry,” Harrier muttered. “One does forget one is in the presence of royalty when one is talking to you, Razz.”

“I guess what happened was this:,” Razz said, kicking the edge of the rug as he spoke. “The Elves were Elves before the humans even existed. Then the Faeries were Elves, and then they were the Moon Elves. So they were Elves first. But the Moon Elves were Elves with a purpose.”

Harrier stopped writing and stared blankly at Razz.

“Have you taken anything today?” Harrier asked, sounding deeply concerned. “You seem a bit more hyper than usual.”

“Have you ever seen a traffic accident?” Razz asked, completely ignoring Harrier’s question.

“Oh yeah. Many. People die in them every day.”

“I mean really seen one. Like with your own eyes.”

“Oh yeah. Lots of times.”

Razz sat silent.

Watching.

Staring. Silent.

He didn’t move.

For quite some time.

He didn’t speak.

Not even a little.

Harrier waited patiently for his patient to speak.

The silence stretched.

Razz’s lips moved, but not a word came out. He was talking to himself in his head now.

It was unnerving.

Even for Harrier.

“Okay,” said Razz, at last, sighing. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“You saw the accident,” Harrier said. “You saw the body that the Fey Stones brought back.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, tell me about it? How did it make you feel?”

“You know,” Razz went on. “Sometimes I wonder how it’s possible to feel more afraid than you did at the time, because if it wasn’t possible for you to have feelings about anything in the first place, why would you keep having any? You were never scared before, no matter what they said or what happened. Now they’ve changed, they’ve taken over, they’re inside your head. No matter what you do, nothing works.”

He paused, his expression growing anguished. “I miss my father.”

“I know,” Harrier said, documenting everything that was happening.

“Why does he hate me?”

“Roderic doesn’t hate you,” Harrier said, speaking softly. “He... he’s got a lot to deal with.”

“Nothing helps,” said Razz, shaking his head. His shaggy feather-cut white hair bounded around his shoulders as he moved,getting tangled in the many violent,purple, and raspberry coloured sequins that covered his otherwise normal looking black silk dress suit.

“I wish my brother was here.”

“Which one?”

“All of them. Etiole is always gone off with the Chrystonites. Kramer is Europe somewhere. Wvoodell is always off on that time travelling, inter-dimensional cruise ship of his. I just feel so alone. Not until it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Razz looked at Harrier.

Razz’s eyes were red from lack of sleep. He was exhausted.

“You’re not alone,” said Harrier, taking a deep breath. “I’m here for you.”

“It seems so clear now, you see, but when it gets close, you realize that it’s not always obvious. It may take you months or years to realize you have feelings, but when you do finally figure it out...” Razz paused as though he thought of something. “You’ll know it for sure when you can’t separate yourself from the Fey Stones, or when you look into their glow and see the light of the Other Place reflected in the water of your own eyes.”

“Where is this Other Place?”

“That’s when you cry, right?” Razz asked.

“How did you know?”

“Or trying to run away. Or trying to find a cure for your heart.”

“Right then?”

“Or you turn to the Dark Side,” Razz reminded him.

“The Dark Side?”

“They have cookies,” Razz said, babbling happily.

“Yes. So I’ve heard.”

“And chocolate milk!”

“Yes. So, have you decided yet?” asked Harrier.

Razz frowned. “‘Decided what?’”

“What it is you are avoiding talking about.”

“Just cry.”

“Cry?” Harrier asked, confused. “Crying is a good thing. Do you feel like crying?”

“No. I want to know.”

“Know what?”

“Why I can’t sleep.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Yes. Look how red my eyes are.”

“I can see that. So, what is it that keeps you awake? Tell me.”

“Can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Razz sighed. “You know why.”

“I don’t see how that...,” the psychiatrist started to say, then thought better of it and left the rest of his statement unspoken.

“That’s good, too,” Razzbury half shouted, jumping from his seat.

“What is?”

“Crying. Because you have a lot on your mind, and it feels good to just let everything out. But I can’t. I promised.”

“Promises can be broken,” the psychiatrist pointed out.

“What does that mean? No. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?”

“See what?”

“If you cried like that every day, you wouldn’t need to eat or sleep,” Razz theorized. “Or even breathe.”

“Really? What makes you think that?”

“But we know that isn’t true, though.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes you mad every time.”

“Oh. Then I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. People want to be hungry and tired, don’t they?” Razz questioned. “And they want to be safe and protected, but that isn’t enough. We’re meant to be free, you see. We’re made to live.”

“But how do you know that? How can you be so certain?”

Razz shrugged. “I just know.”

Harrier looked to Razz, who gazed upon the rooftops of White Rock’s lower levels through the window.

“We are very high up here, aren’t we?”

“Yes. We are on the eighth floor.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“We don’t have to be happy,” Razz went on. “We can choose happiness instead.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Good. So you’re good then.”

“Of course I’m good,” Razz said, sounding surprised. “Have you been involved in a traffic accident?”

“No, have you?”

“I have.”

“More than one?”

“Too many times to count.” Razz’s eyes widened with fear as he spoke.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that could happen,” Razz said.

“Well, it can’t happen too often,” said Harrier, trying to allay Razz’s fears.

“You’d be surprised.”

“You already knew that, because you saw the car coming, right?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The first car,” Razz gasped in horror.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re going to find us.”

“Who is?”

“The other car,” Razzbury warned. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Fey Stones.”

“What Fey Stones?”

“You know, the Fey Stones. The Fey Stones of the Mushroom Forest.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t take the Fey Stones. They’re not yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“They’ll bring you and your brother to the Other Place, and then Fey Stones won’t help you.”

“It came at you so fast!” Razz jumped out of his seat, flailing his arms around, mimicking the speeding movement of a car. “Almost too fast, like it had some crazy plan, but you couldn’t see it. The car came straight at you. There was another car behind you, and the driver didn’t stop, and it looked like he’d tried. He tried to swerve away, but the other car was right there. It was so close, and you watched his tires roll off and the car hit him full force.”

“Quit doing that,” said Harrier. “You’re not a car.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to that one.” Razz pointed at Harrier. “A girl was next to him, sitting in the back seat, and she screamed. She got out, ran, stopped by the car, looked up at you, and yelled at you to run.”

Razz panicked. He did that a lot. He didn’t like to be afraid, but he was terrified right then. He was afraid when he saw the Fey Stones for the first time.

“Run!” Razz shouted. “Get away from there!”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me?” Razz snapped back at him. “What’s the matter with YOU is what’s the matter with me!”

“Razz, I think you might be high.”

“I am not high!” Razz said, his voice turning high-pitched and squeaky. “I am perfectly fine! And don’t you dare go trying to touch me!”

“Razz. Sit down,” Harrier said, unable to mask his annoyance.

Razz stood his ground, his eyes darkening.

“Sit down!”

Razz sighed and slowly sat down on the floor.

“Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“But you couldn’t. You just stood there. You weren’t wearing a seat belt,” Razz gushed excitedly, panic rising in his voice. “You could still hear the screeching of tires and people screaming. You didn’t know what to do, so you just stood there, unable to run because the car would follow you and the girl in front of it and everyone else that was in line and all of them, all of them screaming for help and telling you to hurry.”

“Razz, you need to calm down,” said Harrier.

“So, so slowly, you turned around, and you ran toward the road. You wanted to scream, too, because you were running toward a crash site!”

“I said calm down, Razz,” said Harrier again.

“You couldn’t move fast enough. You were running as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough, and you were going to get hit, and there was nothing you could do!”

Harrier looked into Razz’s eyes. He had never seen them so wide, so frightened. His hands trembled as he wiped his face with his sleeves.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Razz,” Harrier said, smiling reassuringly as he spoke. “I’m here to help you.”

“I know,” Razz agreed.

“How do you know?”

“I was there,” Razzbury answered, while making a gesture, inviting the doctor to keep talking.

“Were you?”

“I’m always there.”

“I don’t see you.”

“I’m invisible.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t see any Fey Stones on you, do I?”

“No.”

“Why am I always on scene for this shit?” Razz fretted, nervously. “Why can’t they just take me to a doctor? I don’t like this at all.”

“You didn’t like the Fey Stones when you first saw them,” said Harrier.

“I feel like life is trying to kill me in every way possible, but by some fate or guardian angel it keeps just missing me, so I’m always there when someone gets splattered all over the road. I’m so sick of life just throwing dead bodies in the road at me, you know?”

“Life is not trying to kill you,” Harrier said, interrupting Razz’s train of thought.

“Yes it is,” Razz insisted. “Do you even read the papers?”

“No,” Harrier replied without looking up from the notes he was writing about his excessively paranoid patent. “I find the daily inner thoughts of patients here at White Rock to be far more distressing than any normal person should have to put up with, so I don’t go home to watch the news.”

“Do you even go home?” Razz queried. “Don’t you just like to live here. I thought you were a resident staff member. Always here 24/7.

“I am,” Harrier stated, lifting his black eyes to meet Razz’s crystal blue eyes. “I live on the premises and am here 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The inner sanctum has to be monitored every second.”

“So, how’s that going?” The Dazzling Razzbury requested.

“Confidential,” the Phookan psychiatrist said. “We can not talk about our high security patients. You know that.”

“Not even when your primary pet patient that you built this place for is my great-grandfather whom you keep chained up in solitary confinement?”

“Razz,” the doctor hissed through gritted teeth. “The fact that your family even knows he is in here is a privilege. As far as the rest of the world knows, he is dead.”

“Ah, yes, and that’s why I’m here, ain’t it? Keep me from telling people what you really got locked up in the heart of this place.”

“Razz, you were telling me about the slew of cars and dead bodies life likes to throw at you. Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“Do you know someone who has been involved in a traffic accident?” Razzbury gasped in horror.

“I know you.”

“That’s true,” DazzRazz mused.

“You’ve seen him more times than I’ve seen you. That’s why you have to understand the importance of seat belts. They make everything safer, more convenient, less stressful, less dangerous, easier to handle.”

Razz sat in silence, his eyes fixed on a large black bobcat sitting on the psychiatrist’s lap.

“What do you know of stress?” Harrier asked.

“Stress is what causes you to fart when you’re nervous.”

“I also know you love cats.”

“Do I?” Harrier asked.

“The Ptarmagin Kats are cats, aren’t they?” Razzbury answered.

“Yes, they are.”

“And don’t they run this place?”

“They do.”

“And you take orders from them,” Razz pointed out. “I know you do. I see them ordering you around.”

“Yes, I take orders from the Kats.”

“Yeah, but they can be annoying, can’t they? You’re a cat person.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A cat person.”

“Maybe.” Razz thought on this for a moment. “Maybe I just like cats. Oh yeah, and dogs, too. But not so much.”

“Razz, you’re saying you like cats but not dogs.”

“I’m saying I like cats, too. Dogs are fun and they’re smart and cute. But cats aren’t fun.”

“Then why do you have cats?” Harrier asked.

“I have no cats. I have a cat. See, the problem is, cats aren’t fun, they’re too mysterious and they’re too manipulative. They make life too hard. Life is too hard.”

Razz shrugged and leaned back in his chair to stretch his limbs.

“I also like horses.”

“Do you now?” Harrier gritted his teeth, knowing where this conversation was going if he didn’t steer Razz elsewhere.

“An unicorns.”

“Indeed,” Harrier said dryly.

“You’re great-grand pappy went missing you know,” Razzbury pointed out.

“I am well aware of King Gwallmaiic’s current status.”

“Any ideas what happened to him?”

“We are not here to talk about my family, Razz. We are here to talk about you and you trouble sleeping at night, and you reoccurring nightmares of being run down by driver-less sentient cars. Do you not remember?”

“What happened to BoomFuzzy, Harrier?”

“What happened to my grandfather is none of your concern.”

“Oh, I think it is.” Razz stated. “Because he went missing the same day, my great-grandfather also went missing, and that happened to be the same time Gremlin showed up here in White Rock, chained up in solitary confinement for a crime he didn’t comment. Left there to rot for three damned years.”

Harrier, quietly and calmly, and with slow methodical precision placed his pen in his notebook, closed the notebook, laid it on his lap, folded his hands together on top of the notebook, gripping his long razor sharp gleaming black talons together as he did, then slowly lifted his black, white-less, pupil-less eyes to stare at Razz with a cold, evil, demonic death stare that only a Phooka could give.

“Are you quite finished?” Harrier asked darkly.

“You hated your grandfather,” Razz said. “That’s no secret.”

“No. Razz. I did not hate him. I did no understand him. And you didn’t know him. He disappeared before you were born.”

“Did you know him?”

“Yes, I did. He was a vile, corrupted, cruel, twisted, evil sadist. I took great delight in raping women, torturing children, and eating men. He murdered millions and felt no guilt or remorse for it. And your great-grandfather was a retarded idiot. When the Elf Eater died, he should have been left dead, but the Grand High Emperor wouldn’t hear of it, so he became a fucking Necromancer and resurrected him. Now we have a Lich to content with and an Ecrodon who made himself immortal, soul bound to the fucking Lich and neither of them can die. You weren’t there at Ongadada. You didn’t see what they did. You don’t know what happened. You weren’t there. Now drop it.”

“Do you think talking on cell phones can help cause traffic accidents?” Razz jumped right back in on his original topic.

Harrier sighed.

“Razz,” Harrier said wearily. “It is getting late. Do you think you might want to go to bed? I can get you a room in the orderlies section for the night, so you don’t have to drive in the storm at night.”

“It’s hard for me to sleep sometimes.”

“How come?”

“There’s just something about sleeping with a door open.”

“I see,” the doctor said as he scribbled down more notes. “Why don’t you just shut the door then?”

“You want to sleep outside tonight?”

“I mean, no offence,” Harrier said. “But it’s cold. It’s snowing. There’s a blizzard out there. We are at the peak of a snow-capped mountain, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. Makes it harder for the prisoners to escape if they freeze to death before they reach the bottom of the mountain, eh?”

“Something like that.” Harrier got up and went to the hall closet. A moment later, he brought back a blanket from the laundry room. He wrapped it around himself. Then he sat down again.

“Here,” the doc said. “I brought you this. I’ve had a similar problem. It’ll help you get some sleep tonight. It’s a mild sedative.”

“What is it?”

“It’ll help you sleep.”

“Have you ever been injured in a traffic accident?” Razz asked once Harrier had returned.

“No,” Harrier answered, shaking his head, tossing his long black curls as he did. “Have you?”

“Yeah, I got one yesterday. In the shoulder.”

“What happened?”

“Some idiot decided to drive past a speed limit while drunk,” Razz explained.

“Who did?”

“Someone I used to know.”

“And who was the idiot?”

“Don’t ask me who. I can’t remember him, anyway. You look Japanese. Do you like Japanese food?”

Harrier frowned, confused at this sudden change in conversation, but nevertheless wrote it down. “I am not Japaneses. I am a Phooka. You know this.”

“Wasn’t King Gwallmaiic part Japanese?”

“He was.”

“Doesn’t that make you part Japanese?”

“Hardly,” Harrier said, reflecting deeply on the subject. “My grandfather King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Leader of the Lich Lords, Lich King of Fire Mountain, otherwise known as BoomFuzzy, the Unicorn, master candy chef. Was a mix blood of many things. It is what made him so bitter and angry and violent. He grew up in a time when pure blood was prided and he was a mongrel.”

“What was he?” Razz asked.

“His mother was a half Fae, half Human. Her Faerie half was Aswag, her Human half was one quarter Japanese and one quarter Mongolian. His father was also half Fae and half Human. His Faerie half was a Phooka. His Human half was Jale, from the Highlights of Papua New Guinea. He was born on the Sepik River, but his parents left the island and moved North when he was still a child, so he grew up in Scotland, where he took the form of a Kelpie, a black unicorn.”

“So you are part Japanese?” Razz asked again.

“Yes,” Harrier replied. “About one sixteenth, give or take. Hardly what you would call countable.”

“Okay,” Razz said.

“I get it. How did you get a traffic ticket?”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re a Phooka.”

“Yes. So?”

“Anyway, it’s freezing out here,” Razz said.

He shivered.

“Yeah. And you’re warm enough?”

“Do you think a motorcycle rider should be required to wear a helmet?”

Harrier smirked slightly, but said nothing. He simply took a sip from his glass and continued talking.

“Did you have a bad dream yesterday?” Harrier asked.

“Of course,” Razz said as if it was silly to think he hadn’t.

“Is it about the crash?”

“Yes.”

“Was it a nightmare?”

“Yes,” Razz fretted, nervously.

“Can you talk about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“All right. What do you want to talk about? Other than my family tree.”

“You know how it feels, right?” The Dazzling Razzbury asked, his voice quivering and quavering nervously.

“How what feels?”

“Nightmares,” Harrier repeated.

“What is it supposed to feel like?”

“Well, you’re always scared of falling, right?” asked DazzRazz.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Yeah, but maybe you’re just not brave enough to admit it to yourself.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Shut up!” Razz yelled snippily.

“What happened, Razz? What exactly were you dreaming about? What is it that frightened you.?”

“I dreamed I fell, but it wasn’t real. It was a stupid nightmare. Piranhas and pink penguins were chasing me. They were after chocolate pudding.”

Harrier looked up and stared at Razz. Then returned to writing his notes, while stating: “Spending time with Gremlin again, I see?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. Except he keeps spiking your food with LSD and making you have pink painted hallucinations with him.”

“Yeah. He does that. Gremlin has got some drug issues, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Harrier agreed. “He does. Gremlin’s been through a lot and is having a hard time dealing with it. I think the LSD helps him to forget things he doesn’t want to remember.”

“He used to be in the inner sanctum, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He was.”

“How long was he in there?”

“I don’t know the exact date, but it was something around three hundred years. Maybe more. In solitary confinement for most of that time. He went insane while he was in there. Poor thing. Wrongly accused too.”

“What do you mean wrongly accused?”

“The crime he was sent to prison for... evidence was found three hundred years later, that proved he didn’t do it.”

“So, Gremlin spent three hundred years in solitary confinement for a crime he didn’t do?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Damn,” Razz said, twirling the pendent on his necklace as he spoke. “No wonder his mind got so messed up.”

“Yes. Although, I must say, he was able to hang onto most of his memories. He’s harmless now. He’s been on a big dose of drugs, and is a bit slow. We were talking about you, not Gremlin.”

“Right. Right, sorry. It’s just, well, you’re sure it’s been three hundred years?”

“Yes, Razz. It’s been three hundred years since he was convicted.”

“But why didn’t he get help?”

“Because he was an adult. He can do what he wants.”

“He’s mentally ill,” Razz said as he held his finger up to his lips.

“Yes. He has... his brain is not right. We’ve examined it. He has significant brain damage, but he can function on his own and as long as he stays out of trouble, I don’t feel there is a reason for much concern.”

“What does ‘function on his own’ mean?”

“It means he can take care of himself, feed himself, dress himself, get a job, drive a car, and over all live a mostly normal life, despite his flying pink goldfish hallucinations. That’s what they told us.”

“So, then how come he ended up here?”

“What is it you’re trying to say, Razz?”

“Nothing,” Razz said, as he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

“You said something. What did you say?”

“I said nothing.”

“You said something.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s convenient.”