K-Pax (59 page)
"prot?"
Hi
s
fist
s
slowl
y
unclenched
.
"What?"
"Somethin
g
ha
s
occurre
d
t
o
me."
"Bull
y
fo
r
you
,
docto
r
brewer."
"
I
wa
s
wonderin
g
whethe
r
you'
d
b
e
willin
g
t
o
underg
o
hypnosi
s
a
t
ou
r
nex
t
session?"
"Wha
t
for?"
"Let'
s
cal
l
i
t
a
n
experiment
.
Sometime
s
hypnosi
s
ca
n
cal
l
u
p
recollection
s
an
d
feeling
s
tha
t
ar
e
too
painfu
l
t
o
recal
l
otherwise."
"
I
remembe
r
everythin
g
I
hav
e
eve
r
done
.
Ther
e
i
s
n
o
need."
"Wil
l
yo
u
d
o
i
t
a
s
a
persona
l
favo
r
t
o
me?
"
H
e
eye
d
m
e
suspiciously
.
"Wh
y
d
o
yo
u
hesitate-ar
e
you
afrai
d
t
o
b
e
hypnotized?"
I
t
wa
s
a
chea
p
trick
,
bu
t
i
t
worked
.
"O
f
cours
e
not!"
"Nex
t
Wednesda
y
al
l
right?"
"Nex
t
wednesda
y
i
s
th
e
fourt
h
o
f
july
.
D
o
yo
u
wor
k
o
n
you
r
america
n
holidays?"
"God
,
i
s
i
t
Jul
y
already
?
Al
l
right
.
We'l
l
tes
t
you
r
susceptibilit
y
t
o
th
e
procedur
e
nex
t
Tuesday
,
and
begi
n
th
e
wee
k
afte
r
that
.
Doe
s
tha
t
sui
t
you?"
Suddenl
y
calm
:
"Perfectly
,
m
y
dea
r
sir."
"You'r
e
no
t
plannin
g
o
n
leavin
g
again
,
ar
e
you?"
"I'l
l
sa
y
i
t
on
e
mor
e
time
:
no
t
unti
l
3:3
1
A.M
.
o
n
th
e
seventeent
h
o
f
August."
An
d
h
e
returne
d
t
o
War
d
Two
,
wher
e
h
e
wa
s
welcome
d
bac
k
lik
e
th
e
prodiga
l
son.
TH
E
nex
t
mornin
g
Gisell
e
wa
s
waitin
g
a
t
m
y
offic
e
doo
r
whe
n
I
arrive
d
a
t
th
e
hospital
.
Sh
e
was
wearin
g
th
e
sam
e
outfi
t
a
s
before
,
o
r
perhap
s
on
e
o
f
it
s
clones
.
Sh
e
wa
s
al
l
tiny-toot
h
smiles
.
"Wh
y
didn't
yo
u
tel
l
m
e
abou
t
prot?
"
sh
e
demanded.
I
ha
d
staye
d
u
p
unti
l
tw
o
o'cloc
k
t
o
finis
h
som
e
editoria
l
work
,
ha
d
com
e
i
n
earl
y
t
o
prepar
e
a
speec
h
fo
r
a
.
Rotar
y
Clu
b
luncheon
,
an
d
wa
s
stil
l
distraugh
t
ove
r
prot'
s
temporar
y
disappearance
.
My
offic
e
cloc
k
bega
n
t
o
chime
,
furthe
r
janglin
g
m
y
nerve
s
an
d
tellin
g
m
e
wha
t
I
didn'
t
wan
t
t
o
know
.
"What
abou
t
him?
"
I
snapped.
"
I
decide
d
t
o
mak
e
hi
m
th
e
focu
s
o
f
th
e
piece
.
Wit
h
you
r
permission
,
o
f
course."
I
droppe
d
m
y
bulgin
g
briefcas
e
ont
o
m
y
desk
.
"Wh
y
prot?"
Sh
e
literall
y
fel
l
int
o
th
e
brow
n
leathe
r
chai
r
an
d
curle
d
int
o
th
e
alread
y
familia
r
ball
.
I
wondered
whethe
r
thi
s
wa
s
premeditate
d
o
r
whethe
r
sh
e
wa
s
unawar
e
o
f
th
e
charmin
g
effec
t
i
t
ha
d
o
n
middle-aged
men
,
especiall
y
thos
e
sufferin
g
fro
m
Brown'
s
syndrome
.
I
bega
n
t
o
understan
d
wh
y
sh
e
wa
s
suc
h
a
successfu
l
reporter
.
"Becaus
e
h
e
fascinate
s
me,
"
sh
e
said.
"Di
d
yo
u
kno
w
tha
t
h
e
i
s
m
y
patient?"
"Bett
y
tol
d
me
.
That'
s
wh
y
I'
m
here
.
T
o
se
e
i
f
yo
u
woul
d
le
t
m
e
loo
k
a
t
hi
s
records.
"
He
r
eyelids
wer
e
flutterin
g
lik
e
th
e
wings
.
o
f
som
e
exoti
c
butterfly.
I
busie
d
mysel
f
wit
h
transferrin
g
th
e
content
s
o
f
m
y
cas
e
t
o
som
e
logica
l
plac
e
o
n
th
e
already
overcrowde
d
desk
.
"pro
t
i
s
a
specia
l
patient,
"
I
tol
d
her
.
"H
e
require
s
ver
y
delicat
e
treatment."
