Dr Warren’s office looked like a playroom.
It was on an upper floor, where thick carpets made the world silent. Even the doors whispered as they closed, and there weren’t any windows.
The counsellor was waiting for them. He wore a pair of spectacles that were on a loop of blue cord, and he sported a bright bow tie. He had a habit of putting his head on one side, as if he wanted to see the world from an unusual angle.
‘Rikki!’ he cried. ‘Come on in! Richard – make yourself at home. How about a glass of juice?’ He went to a small fridge, and displayed its contents with a smile.
‘Thanks,’ said Richard.
‘No,’ said Rikki. ‘We just had lunch.’
‘One yes, one no. That’s cool – I can cope with that.’ He poured out a glass of orange juice and set it on a low circular table. He poured some mineral water for himself and sipped it. ‘I can’t take the hard stuff,’ he joked. ‘Not any more! Now, sit down. What do you think of my room? This is the first time you’ve visited me here.’
‘It’s very colourful,’ said Richard.
‘Are you recording us again?’ said Rikki.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because these exchanges will be of diagnostic importance. It goes without saying that the material is totally confidential.’
‘Sure,’ said Rikki. ‘So, just for the record – for anyone watching – what exactly is this place?’
‘It’s a private hospital.’
‘A nuthouse?’
‘No, Rikki. No. We don’t use those terms any more. This is a research institute, looking at behavioural science.’
‘Why all the signs saying “no admittance”? Why all the locks?’
‘There are some sensitive areas here.’
‘Like what?’
Dr Warren smiled. ‘We like to think of ourselves as being revolutionary. Truly original and truly experimental. First and foremost, though, we’re about care—’
‘And what are your credentials, sir?’
‘Well . . .’ said Dr Warren. His mouth continued to smile. ‘You are a direct-and-to-the-point young man, and I like that. I like people who are up-front – and to answer your question, I was an SHO in neurology – psychiatry too. I completed an MD study out in Colorado, and I have a research fellowship, of course – which I obtained in Kent. As for the Rechner Institute: I’ve been senior man for seven happy years.’
‘And your speciality?’
‘The patterns of the brain. Crudely speaking, I look at how the two hemispheres connect and function.’
‘Wow.’
‘Intervention. Reconstruction – drug therapy and certain forms of realignment. If there’s damage.’
‘Is Eric damaged?’ said Rikki.
‘Who?’ The doctor frowned.
‘Eric Madamba,’ Richard explained. ‘A friend at school. He told us you were his shrink. So what are you doing to him?’
‘That’s confidential,’ said Dr Warren. ‘Eric’s a good boy, so we just watch from a distance.’
‘You were watching me,’ said Rikki. ‘Am I a good boy too?’
Dr Warren paused, and winked. ‘You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met, Rikki. Like your father said, a chat’s what we need, to clear the air. You could teach me a lot.’
‘We’ve been tested about a million times, you know. I was hoping to spend the day reading, and now—’
‘Really? What are you reading?’
‘What am I reading?’
‘Yes. Reading’s important to you, is it?’
‘I’m reading a book. It’s called How to Answer Time-wasting Questions in Case Some Beardy Weirdo Keeps Asking Them. I’m only on the first page because some weirdo with a beard keeps asking me time-wasting questions. People think kids have nothing to do, but we’ve got a lot to do. So Richard and I – me and Richard – we’d like you to get to the point, so we can move on back to bed.’
Dr Warren stroked his chin. ‘How do you feel about that, Richard? Is Rikki speaking for you?’
Richard sighed. ‘I’d like to know why we’re here. Rikki’s right: we’ve been tested a lot and we’re getting a bit tired of it. And we’re not comfortable in this place.’
‘You don’t get as cross as Rikki, I notice.’
‘Rikki’s rude. I try not to be.’
‘Courtesy and honesty, eh? But there’s something on your mind, isn’t there? Richard, Rikki . . . I think there must be a whole . . . range of things you want to talk about. But before we start swimming in the deep, I want to play a little game with you. It’s a game called “the squiggle test”, and I bet you have never been squiggled.’
Rikki and Richard both looked at him. Dr Warren winked again, and stood up.
‘Your silence convinces me of my correctness. The squiggle test is a very useful diagnostic tool, and I use it a lot. We’re going to draw some squiggles.’ He fetched some crayons and some sheets of white paper. ‘We are going to squiggle away, and then we are going to compare what we’ve created. I use it as an ice-breaker, and you do not have to be Picasso. Though it may help.’
‘Isn’t that a scandalous waste of paper?’ said Rikki.
‘Ah, you’re an environmentalist?’
‘No. I hope the world ends soon.’
‘I read a speech you gave last term. Kidspeak: I know you’re worried about natural resources, and that’s good—’
‘Like I said,’ said Rikki slowly, ‘I’d like to see the world go up in flames. But I don’t waste paper, Doctor Weird – I like to draw on the desk. And as I’m here to express myself, I hope you won’t mind.’ He took a large purple crayon from the tin, and before Richard could do anything, he started to scribble on the pale oak table top in huge arcs. Satisfied that the crayon was solid enough, he drew a large, cloud-like shape and crossed it out. He gave it eyes and made it rain. He put a sun behind it, and a plane zooming out of that, and then wrote the dirtiest word he could think of. ‘How’s that?’ he said. ‘Have I cleared any air?’
‘It’s . . . dramatic,’ said Dr Warren quietly. He paused. ‘I’m going to use the paper myself, and . . . um, here we go – my turn to squiggle.’ He drew a shape that could have been an amoeba. ‘What’s that look like to you?’ he said, holding it up.
‘Dinner,’ said Rikki.
‘A lake,’ said Richard.
‘A man with a violin who’s been run over while sitting on your face,’ said Rikki.
‘It could just be a puddle,’ said Richard. ‘Or an amoeba.’
‘Do you ever get punched?’ said Rikki. ‘I got punched yesterday, and it really hurt. I think it did me good, though.’
Dr Warren took his glasses off and let them hang. ‘It’s been known to happen, Rikki. I do meet people with a lot of anger. Sometimes I have been a victim of that anger.’ He put his head on one side. ‘Who are you angry with?’
‘You.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a liar.’
‘You said that before. How am I a liar?’
‘I know why you wear your specs on a string. It’s in case they go flying off, isn’t it? If I were to punch you, what would happen to me? Would it mean pass, fail or disqualify?’
Richard could feel his hands curling into fists. He put them under the table.
‘It would mean you’re deeply upset,’ said Dr Warren. He smiled, and put his hands up in pretend defence. ‘Don’t punch me, Rikki! It wouldn’t be cool. Now: you drew an aeroplane. Would I be right if I connected that—’
But Rikki and Richard were standing, and the table was on its side. The crayons had exploded from their box, and the drinks had simply disappeared.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rikki hoarsely. ‘I suddenly felt lots of anger just bursting up within me. I needed an outlet, and so I’ve done something rather violent. I guess it was an eruption just waiting to happen, and now I feel so much better.’
Dr Warren stepped back and folded his arms. ‘What you’re doing, Rikki, is closing down a challenging question. You’ve made a strong point, my friend. So calm down.’
‘I’m calm.’
‘How do you feel about this, Richard?’
Richard shrugged. ‘I can see where Rikki’s coming from, because this is all a bit boring. I wouldn’t do what he just did – I mean, what I just did. Because we are the same person. But on the other hand, if you treat us like a little kid—’
He was interrupted by a furious cry, and before he knew it he found he was bent double, charging forward with both arms outstretched. His heads came together and caught Dr Warren full in the stomach.
The man staggered back into a large fish tank, and a potted plant smashed to the floor. Rikki turned, and lurched around the room doing his best imitation of an angry gorilla. He picked up a crayon in each hand, and Richard found that he was writing on the wallpaper. How Rikki knew such filthy words, Richard didn’t know. He was writing in huge, curling letters, shouting the words at the top of his voice. Dr Warren had tripped over a beanbag. He struggled to his feet, calling out – but Rikki took no notice. He had turned and snatched a photograph from the desk.
‘Who’s this?’ he shouted.
‘Rikki. Richard. I must ask you to put that down.’
The door opened, and two nurses appeared, anxious and breathless. An alarm was sounding, outside.
‘Doctor Warren!’ said one. ‘Are you all right?’
The counsellor held up his hand. ‘We can talk about this, Rikki. Richard: you’re over-reacting to a stimulus that you have found invasive and threatening. My authority has been challenged, and that’s fine, but now, Rikki—’
‘Who’s the lady in the photo?’
‘The lady is my wife, Rikki. Richard: I’d like you to put it down, and calm down.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s made of glass and metal. You could hurt yourself.’
‘Who’s the kid in the pushchair, Counsellor?’
‘That’s Nathaniel, my son. We were taking him through the park—’
‘Normal, is he?’ said Rikki. ‘Normal kid? Happy smiling face, huh? He’s not gonna stay that way. Listen, Nathaniel . . .’
Rikki brought the photo-frame hard down on the back of a chair, and the glass exploded. He took the photograph out and ripped it quickly, tearing round the figure of the child so it was free of its parents – who fluttered to the carpet. Rikki held the smiling child up in a trembling hand. He grinned at Dr Warren and whispered: ‘Nathaniel says, “Oh no! Oh, Daddy! No!” Nathaniel says, “Help me! Not even my clever father who I always trusted can protect me now. I’m alone, so what do I do? Who do I turn to, now my parents have gone? The world has cracked right open and the people I love most? – oh my God! – I can’t see them any more!”’
‘Rikki, I—’
‘Do you understand me?’ cried Rikki. ‘That’s what alone is!’
‘I understand what you’re saying.’
Everyone was silent. The fish swam calmly, and the clock ticked. Rikki screwed Nathaniel into a ball.
‘Alone,’ said Rikki. ‘Don’t ever try to tell us we’re not, because we are, and always will be, and nothing – ever – is OK.’
‘OK.’
There was a long silence.
‘I think we ought to end this first session,’ said Dr Warren quietly. ‘In many ways, it’s gone well. But I’m sorry I made you so angry.’
‘Do you want a hand clearing up?’ said Richard. ‘Do you have a dustpan?’
Rikki laughed.
‘What’s funny about that?’ said Richard.
‘What you just said,’ said Rikki. ‘I mean, what we just said. I make a mess, and you offer to clear up. You don’t think that’s funny?’
‘Rikki,’ said Richard. ‘We’ve trashed the man’s room. We ought to help him – and you had no right to tear up his photo.’
‘We have not trashed his room. If we wanted to trash his room, we could do better than this. I should have turned the fish tank over, but, even in the white heat of this anger I’m supposed to be feeling, I felt some kind of empathy for the fish. So I restrained myself.’
‘Can we sit down?’ said Richard to Rikki.
‘On a beanbag? Why?’
‘Because my legs are shaking.’
‘We can’t sit here – it’s for kids. This creepy little man thinks that if he makes his room child-friendly in this crass, unimaginative way, we’re going to relax and pour out all our secrets. Don’t you find that insulting?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘You want to tell him our secrets?’
‘We don’t have any.’
‘That’s why I’m inventing some.’
Dr Warren smiled. ‘Let’s finish it for now,’ he said. ‘But I’d like to see you again. Soon.’
‘I want to go,’ said Richard. ‘I’m sorry about all the mess, Doctor. I think Rikki was just showing off, because he’s not a psycho any more than me.’
Dr Warren nodded. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Richard. I’m certain of it.’ He turned to the nurses. ‘Would you help Rikki and Richard back to the ward, please? Make them . . . comfortable, would you? Point-two-five: one tablet each. No school for a few days, I think – we need a little observation time.’
Back in the bed, Rikki chuckled. ‘He wasn’t smiling when we left, you know. And he didn’t threaten us: we threatened him.’
‘Is that good?’ said Richard.
‘I’ve made us an enemy. You saw what he drew.’
‘Just a blob. It was nothing.’
‘It was a rope, Richard. It was a trap. It was a noose, even. It was a little lost soul in a big empty universe, floating.’
‘It was a random squiggle.’
‘He likes order, that’s what he likes. He likes independent thought, as long as it confirms everything he thinks. Ha! Did you see how he was looking at us? The one-eyed look. The head-on-its-side look . . . I think he’s dangerous. What he wants is to close us down.’ Rikki swallowed. ‘I can see the future,’ he said. ‘He’s going to end up trying to kill us.’