Chapter 10 (DRAFT)
Jacks room at The Bawn was magnificent. It was easily as large as a nice hotel room, with modern design and nothing of the look Jack would have expected of a psychiatric hospital dating back to the 1890's. The bed was queen sized and had a high backed wooden headboard. The walls were unmarred and painted off white with many large, colorful paintings of idyllic landscapes. Honestly Jack was surprised at how nice everything looked. The room was filled with the soft light of twilight from the large windows on the far side of the room, one of which was open allowing a breeze to stir the voluminous curtains that framed them. There was a nightstand next to the bed, a desk against the wall and a dresser all of which were sturdy solid wood. No IKEA here, apparently. Jacks shock was obvious and the nurse who had lead him here chuckled softly at his surprise.
“Nice room, isn't it Mr. McQueen?” asked the pretty twenty-something blonde wearing the traditional white nurse uniform that Jack had thought stopped being worn years ago. She had introduced herself to jack as 'Maureen' outside of Dr. Smileys office and walked him to another building across the quad from the building housing Dr. Smileys office.
“Its Elder, actually. McQueen is my mothers maiden name. But please just call me Jack.” replied Jack absently as he continued to examine his room. “Are all the rooms here like this? This seems a little extravagant.”
“No, they aren't all like this, but most of the rooms in this building are. The hospitals grounds are quite large, and there are a number of buildings, this building was built in the 80's about two decades after The Bawn went private thanks to a wealthy benefactor who wished to remain anonymous. The main building was renovated ten years before that. Nowadays, we service a lot fewer patients than we did at the turn of the century when we were still a state hospital. The main building is still used for the poor souls who are here involuntarily, and as such it has more need for the standard look of a psychiatric hospital, like barred windows, and would probably be more in line with what you expected.
“This building is mostly used for wealthy clients who are here for our high end drug and alcohol rehabilitation program. I would say we are famous for our program, but that would somewhat defeat the purpose. People come here because it is discrete and secluded, and those kinds of clients see this as very basic, and not 'extravagant' at all, but I agree with you; I would definitely live here. It's much nicer than my house, ha ha.” Nurse Maureen explained all this as she walked through the room double checking that everything was as it was supposed to be.
Opening a drawer on the desk she pulled out a small glass ashtray and set it on the desk. “There is a metal coffee can in the bathroom for you to empty this into. Please be careful not to cause a fire, as smoking in your suite is only allowed for V.I.P.'s” This said, she took an unopened pack of reds and placed it on the desk next to the ashtray. Then she handed Jack a lighter and said, “Also, please don't tell the other residents that you are allowed to smoke in your room, OK? Pretend you only smoke outside at the designated smoking areas, alright? Otherwise we'll both get in trouble. Here is your schedule,” She said as she pointed to a computer printed graph on the desk. “Dr. Andrews made this up for you based on Dr. Smileys recommendations. You are expected to attend the group therapy meetings, and any individual therapy sessions. The other blocks have been filled in with elective programs. Dr. Andrews has chosen Tai Chi, Yoga, and a series of health and wellness seminars. You can skip or change these without effecting your standing here at the hospital, but Dr. Andrews hopes that you will try them all out before deciding. On the back you will find a map of the grounds, but you wont need it as someone will come to escort you to where you need to go starting tomorrow, at least until you know where you are going, sound good? Do you have any other questions” Nurse Maureen smiled at Jack and waited until Jack slowly shook his head no.
“Oh, actually, I do have one question. Dinner?” said Jack.
“I am assuming that you are asking when dinner is, and not asking me out on a date?” Quipped the cute nurse with an arched brow and a crooked grin. Jack turned bright red and Maureen chuckled at him. “I'm just teasing you Jack. Mealtimes are also listed on your schedule and you will be taking them here in your room, as Dr. Smiley has instructed that you aren't to be allowed to use the cafeteria, which isn't the strangest order I've been given regarding a V.I.P., but it's still pretty strange. Maybe you can tell me why when I come back with your food? Oh, I just realized that I didn't bring a cafeteria menu. Oops, ha ha. Like I said, it's somewhat unusual for patients to eat in their rooms... I think its meatloaf, tacos or veggie lasagna today? I only know that because taco Tuesday is my favorite. If you have dietary allergies or are vegan or something, now would be the time to let me know.”
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“Tacos would be awesome, I am super hungry. I didn't eat much during the coma I guess” Jacks lighthearted attempt at humor made Maureen smile as she nodded.
“Sounds like a plan, Jack. I will have a menu sent up with the orderly who brings your dinner, you can fill it out and drop it at the nurses station that we passed on the way in. You remember where that was?” She asked.
“Sure do, thanks Maureen. This is the weirdest day ever. I feel like I'm dreaming. This is nothing like the last time I was sectioned. This is really happening, right?” Jack asked with all seriousness.
“Yes, its really happening, Jack. You might be called 'Elder,' but to the locals you're a McQueen, and that means a lot here, that's why you get a V.I.P. Room, that's why you get privileges. The McQueen's are like Aroostook royalty. Stay out of trouble, OK Jack? I'll see you in the morning to escort you to group.” And with that Nurse Maureen turned and walked out, closing his door behind her.
Jack opened his cigarette pack with a sigh of anticipation, and had his first cigarette since... well, actually it was sometime before the coma, right? It was strange, he had barely even thought of his nicotine habit. Jack thought about quitting for a moment, as he had basically not had one in weeks already, it would be the perfect time to quit. But Jack decided that quitting was not the 'Elder way'. OK, that isn't true, actually Jack has quit all kinds of things. Except jobs. Those he was mostly fired from. Jack smoked his cigarette, alone in his room, staring out the now darkened window in silence and wondering what surprises tomorrow would bring.
#
Jack awoke with a start hearing a high pitched buzzing, his head aching like the worst hangover of his life. The lights in his room were still on, as was usual in rooms Jack occupied, and a quick glance at his pillow showed it was covered in blood, as were his sheets and blankets. Stumbling into his bathroom, Jack saw fresh wet blood trails down from his nose, eyes and ears. His hair was crusty, and his body was covered in half dried dark brownish-black gunk. The buzzing noise had been slowly receding, but his headache continued to slowly get progressively worse. Jacks foggy brain suggested maybe a hot shower would help, and as Jack had no better idea he chose to listen to his brain for once. After half an hour under the somehow still hot water, Jack was clean and finally the ache in his head had dulled to a merely murderous throb, making basic thought once again possible.
Wrapped in a fluffy white terrycloth bathrobe, Jack walked back to his bedroom, only something seemed wrong. Why aren't the lights on? Instead of the well lit hotel room-like bedroom he had just left, Jack was greeted by the sight of the full moon hanging low in the darkened, star filled sky over a large field of grass. In the place where Jacks bed should be was a fire, a campfire to be precise. Under normal circumstances this may have befuddled a normal person, but Jack was not a normal person, and this was not a normal circumstance. So Jack just sat down on the log, conveniently placed as it was in front of the fire. Across from him was a familiar face, made sinister by the flickering under-lighting from the campfire.
“Hey Red Shirt. Fancy meeting you here. By the way, where the fuck is here? You're going to put my bed back when you leave, right?” Jack rambled.
“Hi Jack. I'm glad you came, I've been calling you for hours. We need to talk.” said Red Shirt with a very serious expression on his face.
“That sounds awesome, Red. Conversations that start with 'we need to talk' always end up great for me. My fucking head is killing me. You tell me you got some aspirin and water and I will happily listen to you tell me all the shit that I'm sure that I don't want to hear, deal?” Jack said in a defeated tone.
Red Shirt held out a bowl filled with... something. No, it wasn't a bowl, it was a turtle shell though it was filled with 'something'. However trying to identify liquids under moonlight and by firelight was not a skill. Or if it was, it was a skill that Jack didn't posses, so instead Jack asked “What is that? It doesn't look like an aspirin.”
“No Jack, it's not. It's a special medicine, I'm not allowed to tell you whats in it, but trust me, you really don't want to know even if I was allowed to tell you. You can drink it if you want, but you don't have to. The choice is yours.” Red then moved in front of Jack and placed the turtle shell full of 'medicine' on the ground in front of Jack before returning to his seat by the fire.
Looking at it, Jack asked, “This isn't poison, right? You know what? I don't even care. With the way I feel right now... So yeah, don't tell me, it would ruin the surprise.” With that said, Jack picked up the turtle shell full of 'special medicine.' It felt much heavier than it should have to Jack, making it difficult to maneuver to his lips, but after a moment he achieved it.
Drinking from a turtle shell was definitely a novel experience to Jack, but nowhere near as novel as the taste of whatever it contained, because the medicine tasted like Pi. Not like a pastry filled with a sweet or savory filling which had been baked, but instead like Pi the number. It tasted like Jack was drinking a concept, and tasting a long series of non-repeating numbers. A concept similar to, but distinct from the concept of a circle. People think that a circle is just a geometric shape, but that isn't true. Its a function of the very structure of reality itself, its definition hard wired into the very fabric of space and time. It was this that his medicine tasted like, and as ridiculous as that description is, it would not be wrong to say that Pi also tastes irrationally like chicken. Provided that said chicken exists as a hyper symmetrical thirteen dimensional tesseract.
“For Christs sake Red! That crap tastes like Trigonometry! Gah! Why? Just Why?” Jack said.
“I told you Jack, it's Spatial Medicine, what did you think it would taste like?” replied Red. “Just sit there and digest that for a minute. We don't have all night, and there are things you need to know, or people will die. Many people. Perhaps all of the people on Earth.”