They awoke in the Rechner Institute, but everything had changed.
It was a section Richard had never seen before, with red alarm buttons on the walls, and low ceilings. They’d come through the high-security gates in Dr Warren’s sleek BMW, and a trolley had been waiting with more, muscular, orderlies. Elevators had swished them up and down until it was hard to remember if they were in a deep basement or high in the sky. The doors opened to the swiping of cards and there was no sign of any nurses.
Mr and Mrs Westlake were there, but some distance away. The consultant was sitting closest, gazing through large glasses. Dr Warren stood behind him, with a file of notes in his hand – and he was dressed differently. His bow tie was gone, and he wore a white coat over a dark jersey. He was holding a set of forms under the nose of a woman seated in a metal chair. There was a silent clock, and the buzz of air conditioners. Monitors flashed, but they too were noiseless.
Richard wasn’t sure if he was able to speak or not.
‘Something’s wrong with Rikki,’ he said carefully. His lips felt thick. Rikki’s eyes were closed, and his breath came in low, juddering snores. Richard could feel the sedative in his own brain, heavy as sand, and he could hardly lift himself – the bedclothes pressed him to the mattress too. He managed to wipe Rikki’s chin gently – he was dreaming, and a small bubble of spit formed between his lips.
‘What’s wrong with Rikki?’ Richard asked.
Dr Warren smiled. ‘We’ve calmed him down a bit,’
‘Have you knocked him out?’
‘Richard,’ said his mother. ‘Try not to worry. You’re all right – that’s the main thing.’
‘Why is he knocked out, Mum? Who said they could sedate Rikki?’
‘It’s a mild dose,’ said Dr Warren. ‘We can crank it up if we need to, though: we’re getting better at judging how the drugs work, Richard. That’s a step forward in itself. He’ll be out for a couple of hours, so we can all have a talk. You remember Doctor Summersby?’
‘No.’
The consultant sat forward and his glasses flashed. ‘She’s here to help us, young man. I think we need an informed discussion, don’t you?’
‘Maybe. But it’s not very fair, knocking Rikki out – I don’t like that.’
‘Why not?’ said Dr Warren.
‘He wouldn’t like it, and you know he wouldn’t.’
Dr Summersby looked up. ‘He’s still loyal,’ she said softly. ‘Rationality’s good, and that’s the left hemisphere leading.’
‘I think it’s wrong,’ repeated Richard more assertively. ‘I wouldn’t want you knocking me out so you could talk to him behind my back. And where are we? Where have you put us?’
‘Richard,’ said his father, ‘it’s only for a short time.’
‘Am I in prison?’
‘No! Of course not. You said it yourself – things can’t go on like this, didn’t you? You nearly died today, and we had that fight yesterday. We had the fire – which we never properly talked about . . . now this. So the doctors are going to look at some options, and—’
‘Dad, I don’t even know what happened!’ cried Richard.
‘Then we’d better inform you,’ said Dr Warren lightly. He sat on the bed and Richard drew his feet up, away from him. ‘Let’s go back a bit – before your rather spectacular dive. Maybe we should start with the arson, Richard? Do you want to talk about that?’
‘Not to you.’
‘That’s what it was. Rikki tried to burn your house down.’
‘It was me that tried.’
‘Was it? Really? What about the violence at school? We know Rikki broke the painting – had he already defaced it?’
‘If he did, he did it when I was asleep. That’s what I told the headmaster, and that’s the truth.’
Dr Summersby spoke again. ‘That is entirely possible. We had a case in Asia with a similar pattern.’
‘Dr Summersby was out in Vietnam,’ said the consultant. ‘She’s an associate surgeon here, and spends a lot of time in our research ward. She’s been to-ing and fro-ing a little . . . but she’s back with us now and has some very good news.’ He leaned forward, and smiled. ‘We think we have a solution to all this, Richard – if you’re brave enough. If you’re ready to move fast, and take a chance.’
‘We’re at the critical stage, Richard,’ said Dr Summersby. ‘I’ve seen it before.’
‘What stage?’ said Richard. ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘You’re experiencing symbiotic enmity. It’s a competitive process between cranial zones. There’s a refusal to empathize with other people – it’s similar to your friend, Eric, and we’ve been developing strategies for exactly these kinds of crises.’
Richard stared at her.
‘Intervention is now possible,’ she said.
Dr Warren smiled. ‘The counselling failed, Richard,’ he said. ‘Rikki refused it, while you tried to make it work. He’s not easy to live with any more, is he?’
‘He’s not so bad.’
‘Really?’
‘He’s me. I’m still alive.’ Richard closed his eyes again, and felt his mother’s hand on his. His parents seemed curiously distant, and he couldn’t work out why – it was as if they’d been told not speak. ‘I just don’t know where I am, Mum – where have you put me?’
‘You’re in a private suite, Richard,’ said Dr Warren. ‘We can take care of you here, and get things sorted once and for all. We have a team ready—’
‘It’s a mental hospital, isn’t it?’
‘No!’
‘Then why are there no windows?’
‘You’re here for your own protection,’ said Dr Summersby. ‘Only special people get to come here—’
‘You cut up monkeys, don’t you? Eric told me!’
‘Richard!’ said his mother.
‘I’m not one of your monkeys. I want to wake up Rikki! He’s the one who needs help right now, so—’
‘Why do you want him with you?’ said Dr Summersby. ‘Let him go.’
Richard stared at her again, and for a moment he was lost for words. She held his gaze, unblinking.
‘Why are you so anxious about him?’ she said.
‘I just told you,’ said Richard at last. ‘He’s me.’
‘Is that what you feel?’
‘Yes!’
‘But he’s poisoning you,’ said Dr Warren. ‘The drugs only slow things down, especially as he fights against them. He’s taking over, isn’t he? That can’t be good.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘He wants to destroy you, Richard – it’s as simple as that. He made a pretty emphatic attempt this morning, and there was nothing you could do about it.’
‘That’s not true!’ Richard tried to sit up, but couldn’t. ‘We work together. He’s me, and I’m him, and that was clear right from the start. You told me that!’
‘Richard,’ said the consultant, ‘We’ve read your diary here, and—’
‘My diary?’
‘Yes.’
Richard gaped. ‘How did you get that?’
Mr Westlake sat forward. ‘They asked us for it, son,’ he said quietly. ‘We didn’t feel we had a choice—’
‘But, Dad . . . I write private stuff in that.’
‘I know, Richard, I know.’
‘How could you just give it to them?’
‘It’s routine procedure,’ said Dr Warren. ‘You mustn’t be so sensitive, and you mustn’t blame your parents. We have legal responsibilities, you see. The last thing anyone wanted was police involvement, so we all worked together and kept it friendly.’
Richard closed his eyes.
‘The diary’s a fascinating aid to the diagnosis,’ said Dr Summersby. ‘It’s allowed the team to move forward.’
‘There’s a team?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And they all read it. You sat round and read my diary—’
‘There’s blood on it,’ said Dr Warren. ‘We were obliged to read it.’
‘So you took it out of my drawer, did you? What else did you take? What else have you stolen, Doctor Warren? You inject Rikki and knock him out, and I know why you do that – it’s because he’s smarter than you, and saw through you from the start. You hate him, so you’ve kidnapped us. You couldn’t deal with Rikki, so you’re finding other ways now. That’s what this is about!’
‘Paranoia,’ said Dr Summersby softly. ‘Very common.’
‘Who’s paranoid? How am I paranoid?’
‘Richard,’ said Dr Warren. He wasn’t smiling. ‘Nobody here hates Rikki.’
‘You do!’
‘Emotions like “hate” play no part in diagnosis.’
‘You’re scared of him!’
‘He’s a destructive intruder. There comes a point when he can be indulged no longer.’
‘Please,’ said the consultant. ‘The clock is ticking, and the panel will be with us in a few minutes. I think we should move to the briefing suite.’
‘Good,’ said Dr Warren. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I wonder if I should take over at this point?’ said Dr Summersby. ‘We can show you some photographs, Richard, and lay out the options.’
‘I want to wake up Rikki,’ said Richard. ‘This affects him!’
‘No,’ said Dr Warren.
A male nurse appeared right on cue. He was pushing a wheelchair, and in a moment the sheets were pulled back and Richard felt strong arms lifting him. His parents were ushered to the side, and a door he hadn’t seen slid open. He was lowered into the chair, reversed, and turned. A long corridor stretched out in front of him, and he was rolling down it under pale blue strip lights. All he could hear was the thundering of wheels.