My dearest Caitlin,
I hope this letter finds you well, and succeeding in whichever marvellous endeavour you are currently applying yourself. I read with fondness and astonishment the stories of your work in Ireland; was this truly the same little girl who used to tear around my waiting room? The papers rarely mention your name of course, but I recognise your handiwork. I still remember a certain someone imperiously commanding children twice her age to go door to door collecting cans for the winter food drive. These so‑called leaders have no idea what they are up against.
To the purpose of my letter. Many thanks again for referring Walter to me for observation and assessment these last few weeks. I know this cannot have been an easy decision, and I am honoured to have your trust in this most sensitive area. Rest assured there will be no written report of my examinations beyond this letter, nor were any records taken or my other staff involved. As far as the secretaries are concerned, my niece’s husband simply passed through and stayed a few days to help an aging woman around her home, as any well-bred gentleman would (though I caution you perhaps to be careful dear, and keep a keen eye on your beloved – you should hear how some of those hens clucked over his broad shoulders and chiselled jaw. He’s less likely to stray than a puppy, mind you, but you shouldn’t doubt the cunning of some foxes).
Walter presents as he always has; kind, affable and slightly bashful at being the focus of attention. He remains an exceedingly polite and obedient young man, and I am confident that if I had ordered him to singlehandedly renovate the practice or repaint every single wall he would have complied without hesitation. He talks of you constantly and with rapture, and clearly misses your mental connection, though I would caution you about relying on telepathy too much dear lest strangers wonder why the two of you hardly talk. We’re also not sure of the long-term side-effects – so again, be careful.
Walter reports his symptoms – and I use the word for lack of a better one – with acceptance, indifference, and an absence of concern. He confirmed, as you suspected, that he has not slept since the Aurora in 1963, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. He reports no feelings of tiredness, nor delusions, auditory or visual hallucinations or feelings of anxiety or dread. He scores perfectly well on assessments for short- and long‑term memory, spatial reasoning, concentration and logic, and has a functioning conversational awareness of social and current affairs. He shows no signs of dementia, confusion, lethargy, emotional irregularity, poor judgement or any other effects usually deriving from lack of sleep, and indeed reacted to the whole process of being questioned with long‑suffering amusement. He simply said that he does not feel the need to sleep anymore, as one might say that they are no longer interested in golf. I did not share with him my intense unease at this statement, nor the truth of total insomnia in the usual course being universally followed by death.
Other observations were no less remarkable. You may already be aware of this, but Walter no longer requires food. When I put this observation to him, he agreed that he continues to eat out of habit, but at times forgets and can go several days without consumption. This was then confirmed over a half‑week period while he stayed with me; clearly, the man no longer feels hunger. He is also, as far as I can tell, impervious to injury; with his permission I tried both knives, bullets and even dropped a bowling ball on his feet, which may as well have been a pillow for all the harm it caused him. The energy around his body exudes itself in a substantive yet intangible barrier approximately one‑fifth to one‑quarter inch from his skin which is warm and seemingly impenetrable to the touch, but I think you likely already knew that. He also, very disturbingly, does not seem to need to breathe; when I asked Walter if he could hold his breath the stopwatch ran to an hour before I simply gave up, and he appeared absolutely no worse for wear at any point.
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His physical strength is quite frankly ridiculous and his endurance obscene. On our second day I sent him running laps around the lakebed, and I am confident that if I had not returned at sundown he would be running still. He sits in an ice bath quite comfortably, and his body temperature remains a healthy 98°. He is immune, it seems, from near all physical constraints and limitations, and physical exertion slides off him like a hand on silk. This is to say nothing of his powers of flight and energy expulsion, which are well‑documented enough and not, I think, the reason why you sent him to me in the first place.
Diagnostically, as far as I can see, Walter is in perfect physical and psychological health. Indeed, from reviewing old photographs and pictures, I suspect he may be identical to how he was immediately after the Aurora, i.e. not having aged a day. I could not draw blood, as no needle I owned was capable of piercing through his barrier, but he obliged me by removing a few hairs and what limited tests I could run on those returned healthy and robust. I see no signs – and I am usually a good judge of these things – of underlying mental instability or some kind of physical “wave” waiting to crash. His eyesight is good, his hearing fair. Excellent lung capacity. I made him pee in a cup like a schoolboy and his urine was remarkably clean and well balanced. X-rays and other scans were useless, as whatever energy he puts out prevents them penetrating, not that I’m overly concerned about his internal physiology. I suspect we could lock Walter Reid in a room with every disease known to man and he would come out smelling like roses; there are likely few pathogens on Earth which could survive whatever nuclear reaction is currently taking place inside his body.
So it is, as you suspected, greater than simply a transitional change. These abnormalities do not fluctuate, and Walter does not seem capable of turning them off, besides perhaps lowering his barrier a fraction. This is in itself unusual, although I have not told him so. He is a sweet man, and I do not wish to worry him, nor you for that matter.
I hesitate to write this final part, dearest Caitlin, but after some agonising I feel I must. Walter’s condition worries me, not for physiological reasons but for psychological ones. The need to sleep, the need to eat, advancing age, breathing, fatigue, the unavoidable threat of harm – these are fundamental aspects of human existence which unite and humble us all. The implications of Walter’s powers, more than any ability I have seen, untether him from these vulnerabilities. This causes me deep concern, and I cannot help but fret that he unknowingly teeters on the precipice of believing he has ascended beyond mankind. We have, my dear, been astoundingly lucky that it was Walter of all people who manifested these powers, as in my view it is only his innately simple, docile temperament that has thus far prevented his change into a real, perhaps unstoppable threat. The dear man remains simply aloof to his own potential, bless him, and content to remain in subservient bliss.
Though I hope this letter provides you some immediate reassurance, it would be a disservice to you, and perhaps all of us, not to be explicit with the truth. You must remain vigilant. A change to Walter – a psychological trauma to him – risks toppling a house of cards far heavier than I think most people appreciate. As an undiplomatic corollary to this, young Miss nee‑Alba, I must in particular warn you that if you ever think of stepping out on this man you risk not being simply an adulteress, but someone who actively places the good of humanity beneath the scintillation of their loins. That may not be something you wish to hear from an old and irrelevant woman, but fast times can fill fast heads with fast notions and I want to impress on you the extreme importance of remaining faithful to your vows. Walter’s condition troubles me enough in a calm, well-meaning fellow. I shudder to think of the consequences in a man less mature, or afflicted by rage or trauma.
Continuing love and success in your commitments,
Yours faithfully,
Dr Adeline Price