Pulling The Dragon's Tail by Kenton Kauffman Page B

very grateful to hear
that.”
    She continued. “My job is to first do no harm by
arriving at an accurate diagnosis. And it is clear to me that I
haven’t arrived at that yet. I can’t say with certainty that you’re
free of psychosis, and I can’t say with certainty that you’re
psychotic, with grandiose delusions pertaining to your belief that
you’re ninety-one. However, um, how shall I put this? My approach
though is not without dissenters.”
    “So therefore, you’re saying …” A worried look
crossed his face.
    “I want to begin in-depth psychotherapy with
you. I intend to get to the bottom of what’s really going on.
Instead of a computer program, I need to go back to basics of my
discipline, that is, listening, empathy, honesty.”
    I don’t need therapy. But if that plan gets
me out of this place, I’ll play along. “Can you really do this
while I’m hospitalized? After all I came to you in your outpatient
office to work on the very stuff you spoke of, that is, to get to
the bottom of what’s really going on.”
    “Mr. Kristopher, I have every intention to
discharge you tomorrow, and as you suggest, we will do this work in
my private office. But be advised” she sternly warned, “your
discharge is against hospital protocol. I have other conspirators
in on this plan. Can you maintain this secrecy?”
    “I’m holding nothing back from you, doctor, just
like when I came to your office last week. Your grandfather taught
us how to tenaciously keep and hold onto secrets. Very soon I hope
to completely convince you of that. So—yes, I can keep a
secret.”
    Campbell leaned back in her chair, looking
thoughtfully at the paintings of birds decorating her office walls.
The art bore her signatures, reflecting a lifetime of talented
endeavor in watercolor. That love and appreciation began with her
grandfather, Mitchell Hilliard. Her gaze then came back to meet
Nate’s. At that moment she knew that this was her last chance to
resolve her aching dilemma with Mitchell Hilliard, the so-called
monster scientist.
    “Mr. Kristopher, I have two final questions for
you. You’ve created a language in which you and Dugan, your CCR,
are the sole linguists. Is that correct?”
    Nate’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. He groped
for words . God! She can read my thoughts! Wait! No! Of
course she can’t. Don’t get paranoid, you idiot! “Um, yes,
that’s correct. Did CLUES figure that out?”
    She chuckled. “CLUES is pretty powerful, but it
has its limitations.”
    “You guessed?”
    “Yes. I figured it must be the only possible
explanation after all the other ones were eliminated. If you’re
sane, it’s the only viable explanation.”
    “Your second question?” Nate asked tentatively,
anticipation tinged with fear.
    “It pertains to our lead psych tech, Keagan.
Staff members never ask for direct feedback from patients about
other staff. However, this has been an unusual day in many
respects. I really need to know your honest opinion of him.”
    So this was the big question, the one that
would make all the difference. I truly have to trust her on this
one . After a momentary hesitation, Nate said, “Well, to be
perfectly honest, doctor, he scares me to death.”
    “Perfect. You’ve just volunteered in helping me
conduct an experiment.”
    “What’s my role?”
    “You’re the bait.”
     
    * * * * * *
     
    Nate lay wide awake on his hospital bed, mind
racing. Discharge was set for early tomorrow, and later that day he
would have a session with Campbell. But for that discharge ticket
to be stamped and validated he had to survive the night.
    At 12:00 midnight a stealthy figure slowly
opened the door to Room 1024, crept into the room, and switched on
the light.
    Pretending to be awakened, Nate opened his eyes
and sat upright. “Keagan, what do you want?”
    “Oh, I’ve just relieved the night shift. Here’s
your medication. That’ll ensure your final brain scan is measured
accurately. It’s