The doctor raised his eyebrows. He looked up again, thinking, and then turned back to the computer.
What a surprise.
Back to Humphrey once more. “Is the problem with communication a factor in the action you took this morning?”
Humphrey focused his vision and looked at the doctor with an intruding look. The visible mask of psychiatry turned clearer than the large windows behind the doctor. The doctor made no facial expressions. He never showed any signs that he cared; a cardboard cutout from every other doctor dressed in white uniforms who did not like him. Humphrey’s face collapsed into his own shaking hands. He felt the warmth of his palms magnetize and brush with coarse motion against his face, turning his cheeks red. The warmth vibrated from his face, crawling down his spine, becoming increasingly uncomfortable and giving birth to babies of thought like drops of water.
The doctor pulled a pen out of his front pocket and began to write this down. With eyes still stuck to the paper, never looking up, he said: “I’m going to phone the doctors upstairs and try to get you a room. You’ll get the help you need here. Walk out into the waiting room and wait for someone to call your name again.”
He continued to write for a few more seconds, and then both of them stood up. The doctor offered his hand. Humphrey didn’t shake it. “Thank you,” the doctor said.
Once the door shut behind him, he expected people to stare; the way students do when you’re late to class. But to his surprise, nobody shifted their attention to him. Humphrey smiled. The floor felt cold through his jeans as he sat back down. He began to observe his surroundings, keeping himself preoccupied.
“—with me, please?” said a voice to his left. The first part of the sentence was inaudible. Humphrey had been lost in his observance; a part of other people’s worlds rather than his own. He didn’t catch the first part of what the man in blue had told him, as if he had been listening to music, and took his headphones out midsentence. He never asked for the man to repeat himself.
“We’ve gotten you a room in ward 363.”
They started walking. The communication between them was purely physical, with gestures and smiles from the man in blue, who now led Humphrey into an elevator. Inside the elevator, the Good Blue pressed four. The button gave a comforting, pleasant sound as Good Blue pushed it. In the back of the elevator, with a black marker, someone had written: INSANITY IS WHEN YOU’RE TOO SMART FOR SANITY.
Humphrey tried to think about this, but his thoughts were interrupted by the digital PLING of the elevator doors opening. Good Blue walked out and stood aside to the left, waiting. He made a comforting gesture with his hand. Humphrey stepped out of the elevator and favored Good Blue with an awkward smile. They walked down another corridor, which housed a small café and some vending machines. When they reached the end of that corridor, they turned right, into a smaller one. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the turn, Humphrey saw a door, which seemed to be much heavier than the other doors around this place. On top of the door were the numbers: 363.
Good Blue placed himself next to a number pad. He turned to Humphrey. “Remember, this here ward is specifically for people who have attempted suicide. Many of them suffer from clinical depression. And, because depression is so closely linked with self-harm and suicidal tendencies and all that, the nurses are going to strip you of some stuff, alright? Let them know if you have anything sharp on you. Also, don’t struggle when they take your stuff, which will include your shoelaces and your belt. You got all that?”
Humphrey gave a simple nod.
2
“Hey, Hump, man, don’t be a part of the system. They think that they can treat us like goddamn babies in here, bro, but I’ll tell you what: they’re the babies, man. You want to know why?”
Squid raised his finger and froze solid, staring at Humphrey. A drop of drool hung from Squid’s bottom lip. Humphrey said nothing; too busy examining his own hand. “Babies follow their parents, bro. You leave a human baby alone in the wild and it wouldn’t even last a freaking day! So, they need to follow someone in order to survive, you see? These doctors, man, they follow society. Their parents are society. Without society, they’d be in harsher conditions than you and me, Hump. I guarantee that, man.”
Upon his arrival in 363, Humphrey caught Squid arguing with doctors that he didn’t need any medication. Squid tried to prove that he was immortal by balancing the full weight of a chair on his toes.
Humphrey saw him as a squid because he always had long drops of saliva hanging from his mouth, resembling tentacles. In between each sentence, Squid had to suck all of them in with a slurping sound. As he did, his face and skin vibrated, and his eyes rolled over white. When the saliva retreated, he let out a loud moan.
It was now the weekend and the psychiatrists were not present at the ward, only the nurses. Humphrey continued to examine his hand in awe when the wheels of the medication wagon sang in rusty melody from behind. A nurse stopped next to him. Humphrey heard the sound of water pouring, along with the crackling of a generic white plastic cup.
The nurse reached out her arm. “Okay, Humphrey, this one is for you. Be careful not to spill.”
With a dosage of aggravation, Humphrey’s hand curled into a fist.
“That there cup is white, dude-miss,” Squid explained. “Hump takes his medication in the plastic blue tea cups.”
The nurse apologized and went to the cupboard, where she grabbed a plastic blue tea cup. She poured water into it and handed the white plastic cup to Squid. “I don’t need to take that, man. I’m immortal. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”
“Roger,” the nurse said. “Take your medication.”
Squid started breathing heavily and fast like an enraged dog. Arms of saliva went up and down with every inhale and exhale, like water spraying out of a whale.
“I don’t feel any pain when I balance weight on my toes! And I’ve already proved that I can breathe through my nose while drinking water, man, so it’s impossible for me to ever drown! I had that cup of water against my mouth for fifteen minutes and you guys still don’t believe me!”
Humphrey started for his room, annoyed with Squid’s raised voice. He heard the argument until he reached his room and closed the door. He jumped into bed and wiggled his body like a worm until he found a pleasant resting spot. A faint whisper, snared in terror and despair, came from across the room.
“The corpses, oh God, the corpses are staring.”
The whisper turned into a loud whimper. “There’s so MANY OF THEM!”
A woman darted across the room to Humphrey’s side of the bed. Her hair stood up like an uncut bush with rough twigs. She stood, shaking in frightened panic. Something wobbled in her hand.
“The corpses in the cemetery, underneath all those graves, are alive. They’re alive. Their eyes are open and they’re grinning. They’re grinning right at me. I have to look like them to turn their attention away from me. I have to.”
Humphrey’s skin turned into the rough texture of denim, gardened by corns of sand. His veins became strings to an instrument of sinister play by a nightmare. Humphrey froze, paralyzed, unable to move. Darkness from the night had squeezed itself into his room. It surrounded the woman, painting her form, turning her into something evil. In her hand, the thing wobbled on—flaccid like Jell-O. It glittered with penciled. Before ripping it off, the woman had dug into her cheek with a pencil. In the dark, it resembled a thin slice of bread coated with thick strawberry jam. She held it closer. Her nails were stained dark with dry blood. She grew a playful, one-sided smile that only stretched across her right cheek.
“They want us all. Underneath every grave, they watch.” Her face turned white, like the doctors’ uniforms. Her eyes revealed that she existed beyond the world.
“Their home is not within the soil.”
Human instinct kicked in. Humphrey’s lungs, which were under the pressure of rapid breathing, did their best to scream. The woman’s smile faded. Humphrey saw how it retreated,
every step of the way. She stared at him without expression, completely still, a corpse. Her eyes slowly turned from him, into the wall behind him. As she stood by his bed, staring at the wall, she started talking with a deeper voice. It was not the voice of a woman, nor the voice of a man. In fact, it didn’t sound human at all.
“Their home is not within the soil.”
Humphrey felt the cold, smooth surface of her cheek against his arm, and screamed again.
“Their home is not within the soil.”
The door swung open. No words were spoken from the staff. They rushed toward the woman, grabbing her. They dragged her body out of the room. She gave no resistance; her body fell into their arms as though she was dead. As she approached the exit of the door, her eyes left the wall and met Humphrey’s.
The woman smiled.
A couple of nurses sat next to him, speaking inaudible dialogue. Humphrey didn’t hear a word. Flashing blue lights struck the entire ward—loud like a fire alarm. Two nurses took him by each arm, leading him out of his room. His feet barely communicated with the ground. Humphrey glared toward the blue flashing lights, astonished. Blue had saved him from the madness of that woman. Blue is good. Good is blue. They continued to walk down the hall until they reached the doctor’s office. Inside, they sat Humphrey down in a comfortable chair. He sat, thinking of blue, loving blue, hating white. Here, he sat for most of the night. They gave him leftover dessert from last night’s dinner, along with something to drink; and, of course, some medication.
Humphrey paid no attention to the plate of brownies. He thought about fear and found himself to be amazed at how unstable it had rendered him. How could fear have such power? How could it make someone go into shock? He sat and thought about how one could benefit from such a strong power.
Fear makes you unstable, he thought.
3
Smoke rose upward toward the sky, vibrant in texture at first, then seemingly turning more and more transparent the further up it went. Humphrey sat outside, in the yard of 363, observing a raccoon who laid flat on the ground, smoking a cigarette. Another drag and more smoke fled upward. Humphrey’s eyes followed, now remaining upward, glancing at the clear sky.
“Fascinating, is it not?” The raccoon asked, cigarette pressed against his lips with light ease. “The Verse-of-U is my guardian, my blanket of a blue sky.” He opened his arms. The cigarette touched grass. “Admire the blanket, protecting us from the undiscovered, tucking us in on our planet, which houses our souls. My Lord, my Verse-of-U: grant the wishes of heart and keep me safe under this blue blanket, and watch over the wandering souls.”
The raccoon faced Humphrey with tired eyes. He inhaled smoke once more and then blew it out into the cool air. “And watch over the man whom I have the pleasure of sharing a prayer with.”
Humphrey blushed. He had never encountered a friendly raccoon before. And he had certainly not encountered one who blessed him.
The raccoon brewed a laugh, which joined the bland context of air, filling it along with the smoke. “I like you. You’re a listener, not a talker. That’s good. We are all children of the Verse-of-U, and we must listen to our Lord. You must listen closely.”
He raised a finger toward his lips, demanding silence. “HEAR US NOW, ALMIGHTY BLUE SKY!” A bird in the distance reacted toward the scream and chirped with flapping wings. Another laugh as the cigarette approached his lips. The raccoon sat up with peering eyes, studying Humphrey. “The blue sky is an illusion.” He talked with his hands now, moving them around, breaking off the smooth trail of smoke.
“The blue sky is a blanket. It is provided by the Verse-of-U to protect humanity. Without the blue blanket above, we would all be children of the night, without any protection to shield us from the monsters. When the sun is shining, contrasting the almighty blue, we—the children—are tucked in by our beloved master. That is why we interpret the sunshine and blue skies as good days. We embrace those days. We jump into the bath of time and rub every second of those days onto our skin, never missing an inch of skin and never taking a second for granted. But when the sky turns black, we are no longer safe. The Verse-of-U can only protect us for so long, before tiring. So we rush home to our manmade blankets, demanding that our children are within our reach.”
He flicked a lighter over and over, watching the flame. “No blue sky, no sunshine, not good! It’s that simple, my beloved human.”
A serious face grew on the raccoon, and the ignition of the tired eyes turned on, spawning color in his irises. “You must admire the blanket. You must appreciate it, treasure it. If you do not, fellow child, then the black sky of night will enter your soul. And don’t think for a second that sleep will save you from the black sky. If darkness cannot reach you when the blue blanket is thrown aside, then it will certainly reach you in your dreams. It will communicate with you visually.”
Humphrey’s ears sharpened, wanting to hear more.
“If you appreciate the blue sky, it will reward you. When you pledge your alliance and faith to the blanket, it will protect you. If you’ve made peace with the sky, it will grant you restful sleep without the night attached to your soul. Your dreams will be in the hands of your new protector, placed in the hands of eternal love. The lord, our Verse-of-U, will paint your dreams with cascading waterfalls of bliss.”
Humphrey’s mouth opened. All of his thoughts slid down on his tongue, out of his mouth, jumping onto the raccoon to show their appreciation. Humphrey loved the blue colored uniforms, which the nurses wore, and had become aware of their kindness and comfort. The sky was blue, as well. Surely there had to be some sort of connection. But the sky also had white clouds. What did that mean? Were the white clouds a symbol of evil, invading the greater scale of the blue? Was the sky being honest with him? Admitting that the world was not all smiles and comfort, and that evil would always be lurking?
Humphrey appreciated honesty.
A smile appeared on the raccoon. He seemed to have forgotten about his cigarette. “I can feel your heart, beloved child. I know that you want to know more. You want to know how to let the blue sky into your soul, do you not? You’re tired of living with darkness, are you not?”
Humphrey nodded.
Oh, yes.
“Are you tired of the cold?”
Oh my, oh yes.
“Are you ready to become one with the Verse-of-U?”
YES!
The raccoon dropped his cigarette. He opened his arms in a gesture of power, casting his now closed eyes toward the sky. “Pray with me, child. Accept the Verse-of-U into your heart and appreciate the blue blanket. Child of the blue blanket, inside of your heart and soul, repeat after me.”
He moved to sit next to Humphrey. His raccoon hands held Humphrey’s. They were warm.
“I, a lost soul of the blanket, have found a way home to roam.”
I, a lost soul of the blanket, have found a way home to roam.
“With intelligence provided by my guardian and protector, the Verse-of-U, I pledge my allegiance to be one with the blue.”
With intelligence provided by my guardian and protector, the Verse-of-U, I pledge my allegiance to be one with the blue.
“May my eternal love float in the sky, and aid the strength of the blue blanket, as I thank it.”
May my eternal love float in the sky, and aid the strength of the blue blanket, as I thank it.
“Hear my call, once and for all, and install yourself within my fall. Lift me upward, to that blue sky, and I shall be your eternal ally.”
Hear my call, once and for all, and install yourself within my fall. Lift me upward, to that blue sky, and I shall be your eternal ally.
The raccoon loosened his grip. Their eyes opened simultaneously, and met.
“Welcome to the way of the blue, child of the blanket.”
The raccoon smiled.
4
In a room where thoughts were pouring rain, astonishing water, which leaves behind rainbows under a sky that is ever s
o blue, the yolk of Humphrey’s mind, coated with a protecting barrier of skeleton, boiled with loving warmth. He sat lost in a daze, inside the moist mental steam, boiling the yolk of his mind at a steady temperature. In the central point of his vision sat a hybrid of a bear, and a fish.
As always, the first thought that struck when he first encountered this man, which was a psychiatrist, had been: What animal does he look like? After a few seconds of knocking with that thought, the chamber swung open and it became clear that he looked like a bear-fish.
The bear-fish had gray hair slicked back, shining in the reflection of light with product, as if the fur of the bear had been mixed with the shiny, silvery color of the fish. His snout had the appearance of a bear, but his mouth was all fish, baby. The eyes were like coins, round and big, glittering wherever sight focused—human pearls. But most importantly, he wore blue. Usually, only the nurses wore blue. An actual psychiatrist wearing blue was unheard of, or so Humphrey thought.
I wonder if aliens would carve our eyes out if they ever encountered us, Humphrey thought. Eyes are beautiful. Maybe they could sell them on the market with some colors more rare and valuable than others? Or, what if they played board-games with them? Blue eyes would certainly be the color that every alien child would fight over. Every child wants to be a superhero, and blue means the good guys.
The bear-fish’s lips, big and succulent, inhaled air.
He’s probably a smoker.
An aura of alacrity surrounded this bear-fish. Not only because of his blue uniform, but the smiles! They weren’t hidden behind the mask of psychiatry—they were real.
“Humphrey Windrill,” the bear-fish called out, looking at his notes. Whilst studying the notes, he puffed his lips together and smacked them, making kissing sounds and revealing yellow teeth. “Do you want to talk about the incident that occurred on the weekend?”
It was now Monday, and the staff at the ward had prioritized Humphrey to see a psychiatrist before anyone else. Humphrey woke up just thirty minutes ago, and barely finished his breakfast in time.
Blue Anesthesia Page 8