THE INSTITUTE, MAY 1975
I LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD AS THE SEDAN CLIMBS THE LONG hill, and the stone building comes into sight. It is immense and imposing and makes me think of knights and maidens from a long time ago. The building is surrounded on all sides by forest. Thick evergreens everywhere increase the sense of isolation and secrecy. A chill runs through me, and I have the urge to scream: Go back! Let me out! Then I think, Get a grip. My overactive imagination is at it again.
The moment I learned about this fellowship, I knew I had to apply. The program is a three-month postgraduate fellowship into cutting-edge medical research. Out of the thousands who apply, only one hundred are accepted. The faculty list is impressive, boasting thought leaders in every endeavor from all around the world. During the program, we will be completely isolated from the outside world. This is necessary, we are told, to help us to focus on our goal—to get into the top 20 percent of the program and prove we are worthy of the one-year fellowship, all tuition paid. There is no time for distractions from family, friends, or lovers. I said my good-byes to my parents and my dear sister with the assurance that the months would fly by, but they were still upset to see me go. Greek parents don’t like to be away from their children for so long. I would miss the weekly Sunday dinners at their house, but a part of me was eager for the break. No matter how much I loved them, I felt suffocated at times. I was ready to spread my wings.
As I got ready to leave after dinner on that last Sunday, my mother looked at me with tears in her eyes. “We can’t even speak for three months? That is too long.” I hugged her and told her that before we knew it, we’d be celebrating my elevation into the full-year program. Because, of course, I intend to win. It’s my only chance to work under Dr. Strombill, the bioethicist I’ve admired for years. Now that I am actually going to meet him, to have the opportunity to impress him, I am feeling awestruck and giddy, and I’m never awestruck and giddy.
The car comes to a stop, and the driver walks around and opens my door. I smile at him, but he looks right through me.
“Please proceed to the front steps.”
I grab my backpack, throw it over one shoulder, and walk the cobblestone path to the immense structure. I wait for the others to fall in line, and while I do, I study the ornate carving on the door. I’ve never seen anything like it before; it’s a crest featuring a dragonlike creature. The beast is otherworldly and grotesque but beautiful at the same time. I am oddly drawn to it and reach out to trace the lines of its head when a voice behind me makes me snatch my hand back.
“Put your belongings on the ground next to you. You will have no need of them.”
There is an instant outcry of protest from everyone, and I clutch my purse to my side as my heart pounds in indignation. But then the door opens, and when I look inside, my indignation turns to awe.