"How did you get a license to practice medicine?"
    "Joe said, 'I got you into this mess, I'll get you out.' He did. There is more than one medical school. Joe found one that would let me take an exam and graduate with honors. They helped me with the licensing process and arranged my residency at the colony."
    "I assume you make generous donations to the school."
    "Why of course."
    "Tell me about the third time you prevented Joe's premature death."
    "I accompanied Joe and two of the girls to a small bar. The bar ran the full length of the room with a row of tables on the other side of a large aisle. Only one customer was sitting at the bar near the door. Joe chose a stool near the center. I sat at a table behind him. They had a drink or two before a man came in and sat at the far end of the bar. He signaled Joe. Joe went and sat next to him and while they were talking, the man near the door struck up a conversation with the girls.
    I pulled my chair away from the table and sat facing him. He told and elaborate story about his shoes. He turned on his stool and crossed one leg over the other so we could get a better view of his shoe. I had my gaze fixed on his shoe when another man walked into the bar.
    Talk about serendipity. If I had not been looking at his shoe I would never have seen the knife. He carried it low next to his leg. I looked at his face as he walked quickly past me. He was another pimp that Joe had fought and had taken his girls.
    I jumped up behind him, grabbed his hand just before he began his thrust at Joe. His motion and mine caused his hand to move behind him. I quickly pulled his hand to the side, grabbed his neck with my other hand, and pulled him backwards. He struggled to maintain his balance, but I kept him on the verge of falling.
    Joe and the other man turned. When they saw that I had the situation under control, they watched. The man had a very large neck and my fingers didn't go all the way around. He thought it was a stand off. He couldn't break my grip and he couldn't get his other hand or his feet into position to attack and he didn't think I could do anything either. He said, 'Sooner or later you will have to let me go and then I will kill you.' I continued to hold him and he repeated his threat." Doc paused.
    "Well what did you do?"
    "I killed the stupid son of a bitch."
    "Why? How?"
    "He triggered my self righteous indignation. I was mad, he threatened me and he was stupid. He didn't know my fingers and thumb were on the pressure points of his neck. You know my intolerance of stupidity, even my own. I simply squeezed the pressure points harder. He never knew what happened."
    "What did happen?"
    "I restricted the blood flow to his brain. He passed out and I let him fall to the floor. Joe turned to the bar tender and asked for a glass of water. 'We'll take our friend out side and revive him.' Joe told the girls to call the cabbie. We each took an arm and dragged him out. When we got him out side I gave the man a drink."
    "You don't give an unconscious person a drink."
    "You do if you want to guarantee he doesn't live."
    "What did you do with the body?"
    "We left him face up on the side walk with water in his throat until the cabbie came."
    "What did you do next."
    "That's a long and boring story, the gist of it is, we supplied cadavers to the anatomy departments of several schools. He was a perfect cadaver."
    "Was this another reason why you opened the clinic?"
    "Yes. We eventually had an arrangement with the coroners office. We filled out the paper work and took it to them and we disposed of the bodies. It saved a lot of time and the city a lot of money."
    "And you made money in the process. Is that how you disposed of all the bodies?"
    "No. Only the good ones."
    "What did you do with the others?"
    "Dumped them into the ocean."
    "Is that why you had a yacht?"
    "Part of the reason."
    "In your story involving Candy, your man used the words, 'Code Black'. Am I correct in assuming that transporting bodies was a standard procedure? How?"
    "It was very standard. We used in nearly every day. If no other code was used in addition, our people used a furniture truck. They took the shell of an old refrigerator inside a new refrigerator crate in with them and brought the body out inside the old refrigerator shell. We used different vehicles and carrying cases for different situations. They returned to the appropriate building and transferred the body to another case and vehicle until the body arrived at its destination. To my knowledge our people never made a mistake and they were so professional, no one ever question what they were doing."
    "Why did you have your own funeral parlor?"
    "Sometimes we had to have a funeral. Usually it was an indigent, who's friends wanted to say their last farewell."
    "Why did you have your own cemetery?"
    "A few wanted grave side services."
    "Your cemetery was small and yet it never became full. Did you dig them up and then dispose of the bodies?"
    "We never buried them, they never left the funeral parlor. After the service was over and everyone left the room, we uncovered an identical empty casket and covered the one with the body and then invited the pall bearers to enter and carry the empty casket to the hearse."
    "Did you bury the casket?"
    "Not unless we had to. If we did, we dug it up after everyone left."
    "You sold the same casket over and over. Very profitable. Did you use the same grave, too?"
    "We had several graves, spread out over the cemetery, we placed metal retainers in them to keep the walls from caving in and covered them with green metal covers. People walked around them without giving them a thought."
    "What did you do with the markers?"
    "As you know we only allowed small flat head stones that didn't protrude above the grass. We told people that it was easier to mow the grass. We placed the maker close to where the grave side service was held and left it until no one came for more than a year. Then we remove it and stored it in the caretaker's warehouse. If someone came after we had removed the marker we stalled them in some manner until one of the workers could reinstall it, unnoticed."
    "So, you sold the same casket and lot, over and over again. Did you some how make more money on the markers?"
    "We sold markers, also. We turned them over and used the back side if it was of good quality. No one ever turned one over."
    "Wasn't this dishonest?"
    "No. They received what they paid for, we just, didn't leave it in the ground. Such a waste. I can't stand burying all that money."
    After a pause, "Where did you learn of this?"
    "We have our methods. Tell me about the tabloid editor. What did you do to him? I know by know you did get even."
    "The day after he ran that story about me, there was a riot outside his office. Many indignant people protested his story."
    "You arranged the whole thing."
    "How could you say that, I had nothing to do with it."
    "I'll bet. What happened?"
    "It would not have happened if he had listened to the rabbi. The rabbi pleaded with him to retract his story. The rabbi was present and told the editor, 'That's not what Doc said and you know it.'
    The editor wouldn't listen. When the rabbi left the building shaking his head the protesters became violent."
    "That was the signal, huh?"
    "During the riot his offices and equipment was destroyed and his people injured."
    "That's why the other tabloids retracted their stories so fast."
    "The riot probably had an influence."
    "What happened to the editor?"
    "Our men helped him escape."
    "How convenient. Then what?"
    "I talked to him and asked him to retract his story. He wouldn't, he was a stubborn man. He said, 'You don't scare me, I've been in tighter spots than this and I've always managed to get away. You don't dare do anything, I'm to well known.'
    I asked him again and he refused. I took one of our special syringes and gave him his first and last A treatment. When it didn't have any effect, he laughed and repeated, 'You don't scare me.'
    'I'm not trying to scare you, you have five days in which to change your mind. You will be treated like a guest. You can go anywhere and learn anything you like in the organization, but you will always have at least one body guard for your own protection. Some of our people might kill you on sight."
    "That's not true. Your people would not touch him without your consent."
    "You're right, but he didn't know that, he was stupid. He didn't understand what I was doing, but he was eager to learn about our operation. I could tell he could visualize the expose he would write.
    First he wanted an explanation of our personnel record codes. He had heard stories about the 3W and 4W-D people and wanted to know what they meant. I told him, 'In due time. Was there anything else you would like to know.'
    He asked to be given a tour of our organization. We gave him a guided tour. He was surprised at how large it was and how many companies were apart of our organization. Not even he, knew the buildings next to the clinic belonged to us. We took him into the second basement and showed him how we could move from the clinic to the warehouse to the manufacturing building without anyone knowing. We showed him how each one of our companies operated as a separate entity. Most of our people didn't have routine contact with one another, but they did meet at the mansion. He was very impressed with the mansion and the yacht. He was also very surprised at all the happy people and how loyal they were.
    On the sixth day, he went over our records. He wanted to know more about the clinic's birth numbers. He had heard stories, 'If a woman had a delivery at the clinic she was almost guaranteed a healthy baby.' At the end of the day he confronted me. He figured out what most of the codes meant. He knew now why the live birth numbers were skewed. He said, 'Your total numbers seem normal; therefore you had to be switching babies between the married women and the unwed mothers. The unwed mothers had all the still births and all the abnormal babies. What a story that will make.'
    When I didn't offer an explanation, he changed subjects. 'I'm quiet sure you used your yacht to smuggle heroin into the country.' Again, I didn't offer an explanation.
    'How did you get the yacht? Did a smuggler try to double cross you?'
    'No, our chief of security services, 'The Recruiter'. He and three others met them at sea beyond the limit. After they brought the money on board, the smugglers told them, "You're going for a long swim." 'The Recruiter' said, "No, you're going for the swim." The smuggler look at them in disbelief, "How can that be, you are unarmed and only four against twelve armed men."
    "You have been careless, there are five of us and you are alone." He turned to look where his men had been and they were gone. Naturally, we commandeered the yacht.'
    He changed the subject, but I could tell, he was thinking, 'What a story.'
    'I found many mob names in your records and I'm quite sure the code, 'D' meant deceased. Another code, 'P' meant patient, but what did 'E' mean, it was always associated with a patient?'
    'Euthanasia.'
    'You mean, you killed your own patients?'
    'No, I didn't kill them. I assisted them.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'All were terminally ill, in great pain, I helped them die peacefully after the next of kin realized  there was no hope. I can't stand to watch my patients suffer. I think keeping a patient alive only to suffer is ludicrous.
    Do you call that mercy? Do you call that humanity? I call it stupidity. Besides, I don't like to waste time or other resources, needlessly.'
    'You wasted a life.'
    'What life? It depends on what you mean by life. When it is impossible to return to a quality life then we are not alive. Just because we exist doesn't mean we are living. When we stop growing, we become vegetables and we should be removed before we putrefy the others.'
    'How many people have you killed?'
    'I don't keep score. I'm not proud of it and I don't want to be reminded of my self righteous indignation. Remember, most of the D's died from natural causes.'
    'Give me an estimate.'
    'oh, about twenty, personally. Our organization, I have no idea, but I would guess two to three hundred.'
    'Have you no remorse or regret?'
    'Regret, yes, I didn't have the chance to educate them. Remorse, no. How can you have remorse when you squash maggots.' He was speechless. I walked away and called it a day.
    The next morning, I took him to the security service training area. One of our youngest and smallest men had brought an enforcer in the night before, the editor recognized him immediately. We told the enforcer, 'You have one last chance to get even.' He was eager.
    The kid was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, when the enforcer was turned loose. He charge at the kid and tried to hit or kick him. The kid evaded his blows or parried them. After five minutes the enforcer fell on the floor exhausted. The kid waited until the enforcer recovered and before the enforcer resumed his attack, the kid looked at me, I nodded. I made sure the editor saw our communication.
    The kid killed him with three blows. A quick chop to the temple stunned him. When he put his hands on his knees to keep from falling, a kick to the groin made him bend lower. A spinning kick to the head broke his neck, he collapsed.
    The editor blanched. He knew the kid was toying with the enforcer, but he didn't realize how fast a man could die without weapons. I helped his mental condition, 'You shouldn't count the first two blows, they were just set up blows.' My people had to support the editor, he was feeling ill.
    We took him to the tank, undressed him, and lowered him into it. He didn't resist. The tank is like a small swimming pool without water, ten by ten, except all the same depth, ten feet with padded walls.
    I sat alone and waited for him to recover. He laid, curled on the floor for a long time. Finally, he began to stir, stood up, and looked up at me, 'I will now answer your previous question about the "3W and 4W-d" codes. When an addict asks for help, we help. When, all an addict wants is another fix, we give him a fix, one from which he can never recover. We put him on the AB treatment and label him '3W', that is, Weak Willed Wimp'.
    If he follows instructions and behaves himself, he is treated as well as any other patient. We help him return to as normal a life as possible under the constraints of the AB program. Eventually, they could live anywhere they want as long as they follow the rules of the treatment. But, as with any group, there are always a few who will not follow instructions. They know more than anyone else or they are determined to have another high, or the reason I really love is they wanted to expand their minds.
    Most of these were affronted by my response, "If you are trying to expand your mind by using drugs, you don't have a mind worth expanding, you stupid jerk."
    You see, I do know how to make friends and influence people.
    Well, the 4W-D's, were those kind of people. The fourth W stands for withdrawal and you already know what the D means. Some died quickly, some died in a week, and some lasted almost twenty days. We put them in the tank so we could study them and experiment with possible antidotes. In the tank they could not hurt us or themselves. The other 3W's were allowed to sit in the bleachers and watch them die. It did wonders for their attitude. The change was almost instantaneous.
    If any AB patient missed their next shot of chemical, we did what we could for them, but if the symptoms had started, it was too late. We let them have their choice, if they could not, we made the choice for them. Now that describes your situation, I have made your choice for you.' The editor was furious, he shouted, 'Stop playing games. Give me back my clothes and let me out of here.' I yelled right back, 'I'm not playing games, you stupid bastard, I'm going to kill you, slowly. You are next to the lowest scum on earth. You hide behind a thinly guised veil of truth, when your purpose is to deceive and destroy. Do you know how many lives you have ruined. Well, I'm not going to give you a dose of your own medicine, I'm going to give you a dose of my medicine.'
    'I'll get out of here somehow,' he said more calmly.
    'How? No one knows where you are and even if they knew I had possession of you, do you honestly believe they could find you? And if they did, do you think my people would let them in? You had a tour of our organization, you know how we operate, and you know how well trained our people are.'
    He sank to the floor. After a long while he asked, 'Who is lower than I?'
    'Those who kill in the name of religion. They are so weak and stupid and their religion is even weaker and more stupid. Like the old proverb, the truly strong can afford to be gentle. By killing in the name of religion they prove their stupidity and the weakness of their belief and their religion.'
    'Then you are weak, too.'
    'In a way, but not as weak as them or you, who attack in a way your opponent cannot defend against. Your victims don't even know what they did to offend you. They have no chance to change and most importantly, NO chance to change you. You are so positive you know the truth, the only truth, that you do not listen to the real truth.
    You also know I'm not stupid and everyone I have killed has attacked me or threatened me and I gave each of them a chance to change if I could. You know that.
    I have given you many chances to change, until yesterday. I asked you each morning at breakfast or have you forgotten.
    You are to stubborn and stupid. Did you think I would let you live to write about me, after I let you read my records, how stupid can you be?'
    He slowly sank to the floor again. After a pause, 'Will you tell me what to expect?'
    'With pleasure, it will increase your sensitivity and; therefore your pain. First, your body temperature will rise and you will feel very warm and you would remove your clothes if you had any, we saved you the trouble. Then, you will have the DT's. They will begin quite calmly and increase until you are completely incapacitated and then subside. You will think you are recovering until the next withdrawal symptoms begin.
    Then you will understand what a addict goes through when they can't get another fix. You will have a fever and you will feel cold and no matter what you do you will still feel cold. In the last stage you will exhibit all the symptoms of rabies. You will go mad. You will attack your own shadow and we will give you plenty of shadows so as not to disappoint you. You will even bite yourself.
    During each stage you will want food, but you will not be able to keep it down. You will have the dry heaves about every fifteen minutes and convulsions about every half hour. You will not be able to sleep very long because your body will always be moving and you will have cramps in all your muscles at one time or another, they will come and go at will.'
    'Can I have my clothes back?'
    'Are you cold?'
    'NO.'
    'Then what do you need clothes for, to strangle yourself, now we couldn't allow that to happen could we? That would be a sin.'
    'What about something to sleep on?'
    'You will not be still long enough to stay on a bed, so why waste money on something you will not use?'
    'What about food and a toilet?'
    'We will supply all your needs, we will hose down everything each day and make sure everything is sanitary.
    There is a drain in the corner. Use it if it makes you feel better. In an hour you will not be concerned about formalities.'
    'Where are you going? I thought you would stay and watch and make sure I didn't escape.'
    'I've seen it before, believe me, five minutes is enough. But don't worry you will not be alone, in a few minutes you will have an audience. The bleachers on all four sides will be full. There are always some 3W's who need an attitude adjustment. We have not had any volunteers to teach the course in quite a while. I'm sure you will be an excellent instructor.
    I'm not concerned about escape. There is no escape, you see, even if I were to let you go, there is no antidote once the symptoms appear. It would be much better for you to remain here where WE can take care of you.
    I know you are being civil because you think that some how it will all end as a bad dream or I will stop playing this silly game. Well, it's not a dream or a game, I WILL get even, I WILL have my revenge.
    By the way, the fact that you are not cold is the beginning and you should also know that the smaller the amount, the longer you will last. You might even set a new record. I'm sure you can appreciate that, you were always trying to set new records with your tabloid, how many people could you destroy in one issue, that was you goal. That along with your stupidity and stubbornness, you deserve what you are going to get.
    You will not see me again, but I'm so glad you came to visit. We will do everything in our power to make it last as long as possible.' I walked out, to the pleasant sound of his screams."
    "That story answered a lot of questions for me. Were his suppositions true?"
    "Yes."
    "Did you really bring in heroin? What did you do with it?"
    "At first, I used it in a futile attempt to wean addicts from their habit, as I told you before. Then we supplied the addicts with heroin until we could convince them to shake the habit."
    "That was against the law. You told me, you didn't break the law."
    "We didn't break the law, the addicts did in abstention, they would have broken the law no matter what we did, until we could convince them to start treatment."
    "You were on the slippery slope again."
    "Yes."
    "Continue."
    "We enticed them to live in one of our apartment complexes. There we could take care of them and supply their needs at a lower cost. It didn't work. You have to let them fall all the way to the bottom before they will consider treatment.
    Our next attempt did just that, we continued to entice them with the offer of cheap heroin so they would live in our apartments. Once they moved in, we increased the price, higher and higher until we exhausted all their resources. Then we restricted their movement to prevent them from resorting to crime. We channeled them into one of our enterprises. We hastened their loss of self respect in every possible way in order to get them to hit bottom as fast as possible before they lost their health completely. Then we could start the recovery program. We were quite successful after we perfected our program."
    "They, like the AB's were your slaves."
    "We are all slaves, we just don't think of it in that light. Yes, their addiction forced them to follow our instructions, but we never pushed drugs on anyone."
    "This also contributed to the decrease in crime because it took the addicts off the street. But, if I'm reading between the lines correctly, the largest decrease in crime was because you literally eliminated the mob, you didn't drive them out, you killed them and took over their operations. Wasn't this the main reason for establishing the security force and not the weak reason you gave me earlier?
    Am I correct?"
    "Yes. The accounts payable department paid them in full."
    "Which operations did you keep, I know you didn't keep them all."
    "We only kept those we could convert into legal operations."
    "Don't you mean just inside the law?"
    "Your words not mine."
    "Was the editor Middy's instructor?"
    "Yes."
    "Well, tell me what happened."
    "Middy was required to watch him for at least five minutes each day. He did set a record, he lasted twenty one days. Middy was one of the lucky ones, she got to watch him die.
    You know the trouble with movies and television is that people die to neatly, to cleanly, to peacefully. If they portrayed death as it actually occurs, it would be shown once and that would be the last of that."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well after his last heroic scene, we had to carry almost all of the audience out of the tank auditorium. The stench was terrible."
    "Come on, come on, stop beating around the bush."
    "Almost everyone in attendance puked their guts out. That is the normal response to an unexpected violent death. We had to hose down everything and everyone."
    "A job for the junkies, I'll bet."
    "Now you are starting to understand. There is always work for everyone."
    "Didn't the audience know he was going to die?"
    "No, we don't tell them, we don't want them to be mentally prepared. Everyone thought he would eventually complete the withdrawal and live happily ever after, you know the all american fantasy."
    "Do you have a problem with death?"
    "Sure, when I have witness it often or when I have not prepared myself mentally before hand, all professionals do. It's not only death, it's the suffering as well. Suffering probably has more impact on the professionals because suffering is only visible when we cannot stop pain. It's very difficult to watch a patient suffer and know there is nothing you can do to prevent it.
    A doctor has a slight advantage over the rest of the staff. We can concentrate on the pathology and be disinterested personally, but the staff has to take care of the patient for a full shift, every day. We hold short meetings to discuss the mental effects and what we can do to off set or at least minimize them so everyone can keep their sanity."
    "What feelings about death did you have when the man was strangling you on TV?"
    "I was never in any danger. You probably had the same image as nearly everyone else, me screaming while he tried to choke me. That's what all the articles and commentators said.
    That's what happens when you see what you want to see instead of observing. Think back, remember the picture, was my mouth open or was it closed?"
    "Why it was closed. Then you couldn't have been screaming. You're right, I missed that as well. Now I'm puzzled, what did happen?"
    "The Men in Black knew who was screaming, that's why they did as I signaled. When he tried to choke me the pain in his wrist was to great he could not squeeze. I grabbed his wrists, held them there, and squeezed them. He screamed as I increased the pressure. If you look at the pictures again you will also notice that his elbows are inside mine. I put pressure on his wrists and caused his elbows to bend and then pushed them and mine into his floating ribs. I bent back to increase the pressure. The audience thought he was bending me backwards.
    See how easy it is to misinterpret what is happening. No one, but our people were aware that a few seconds before he collapsed he had stopped screaming and was struggling for breath."
    "You killed him, then?"
    "No, but I contributed to his having a heart attack. I really don't know."
    "What about your reaction when you have killed someone?"
    "It's so variable, there are to many factors involved. I respond just like anyone else. I'm not special."
    "What about the editor?"
    "He was a maggot, I can kill maggots and never give it a second thought. That is one of our problems these days, if you dehumanize a person you can do anything you want to them without a twinge conscience.
    Are you aware, that is how all primitive people handle killing their enemies, they were not considered people, so the could kill them with impunity."
    "While we're on the subject, I heard that some of your patients died happy, how was that?"
    "Some patients have their complete facilities even while they are in great pain. They usually have great courage as well. Instead of helping them die, I put them on heroin."
    "Wouldn't that make addicts out of them?"
    "You disappoint me. That is about the most ridiculous argument, I have heard. The person is dying, what difference does it make."
    "Why did you use heroin?"
    "Regulations, I have to account for all legal drugs I use. I certainly was not going to report our use of heroin. If you don't report, no one knows. Besides, it had the pleasant side effect of allowing them to die happy."
    "Return to Middy, what did you do next?"
    "She recovered in a couple of days. I waited until she felt better, I didn't want her to feel to good. I took her into an exam room and undressed her, slowly, so she could anticipate each move. She was very uneasy, but she stood there, she didn't resist anything I did. I slid my hands all over her body, she shivered and became calm. I told her to lie on the exam table. I gave her a thorough physical. I did the pelvic exam, last.
    'Why Middy, you're a virgin. What a facade, all this time. You're something else.'
    She gave me her, 'cat eating canary' grin. 'We'll have to do something about that right now.' I stimulated her clitoris. When she lubricated and moved involuntarily, I went into her. She surprised me, when our bodies met, she was the most passionate woman, I ever had. Sex with Eve was different, more fulfilling, more satisfying, but that was later.
    Right then I realized the significance of virginity, not of the women, mine. My bond with Dawn had been the strongest and so had been my pleasure. She was my first woman. None of my other sexual experiences compare to those with Dawn, and yet all were compared to those with Dawn.
    As I continued to think about it I became aware that this was true for all first experiences, physical or mental. The first new shoes, the first new dress, the first bike ride, the first ideas, the first religion. The first experience may have been awkward or embarrassing, but it was the first, it was the most important, the best or at least it was remembered that way.
    My mind raced, to reevaluate, to recall past experiences, past observations and those that my friends and patients had told me. The first experience becomes the most important because the first experience becomes the yard stick by which all other similar experiences are compared. It was very difficult to replace that first yard stick even when something better came a long.
    Now, I was thoroughly convinced, that, those who were virgins when they married had the strongest bonds, those who had sex before marriage had slightly weaker bonds, those with a few different sex partners had weaker bonds, and those who had many different partners had the weakest bonds, all else being equal. There was a tendency for their passion, enjoyment, and satisfaction to follow the same pattern. I was brought back to the present by a nudge from Middy.
    'I don't know where you were, but you certainly weren't here. We'd better get dressed before we get chilled.' While we were dressing, 'I assume, I'm to be your personal prostitute. If that is the case, I will be the best you ever had. Do what you want with me, Doctor Quack Quack, I'll do it with pleasure. I want to live, I never want to go into that tank, so do what you want with me.'
    I did and she did. Her smile was genuine. She actually enjoyed everything I made her do. Instead of loosing her self respect, it increased. Her confidence increased. Her ability to help me recover from a hard day's work was extraordinary. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't maintain my hatred for her.
    I had to have my hatred to justify what I was doing to her because I was violating all my principles concerning women. I had to go into seclusion to revitalize my hatred. I became very frustrated. That's when Eve intervened, she was afraid I would do something worse than I had already done. She knew she couldn't stop me, but she could divert me. She did."
    "When did you admit defeat?"
    "A year after the mansion was in operation, I entertained several contributors at the mansion. One of them was an old family friend of Middy. She entertained him the entire weekend, I asked her about it later. She said, 'Did you think I would deny him the services of the best whore this side of the Mississippi just because he was a friend of the family?' What could I say. All I did say was, 'Thank you for another job well done.' She responded, 'Thank you doctor quack quack.'
    I didn't notice the change in her tone until I contemplated the events of the weekend as I rode back to the city. Her tone had changed so slowly I was not aware of it. It was more than admiration, but I didn't know what it was. I talked to Eve about it.
    'Middy is in love with you, she has forgiven you. Middy has been converted just like everyone else who truly knows you. After she learned about you, she knew that behind that ugly face and in spite of those violent reactions was a very intense and caring person. She's trying to live up to your standards, that's why she's striving so hard for perfection.'
    I had to admit, to myself, Middy had won. She had the mansion running like a well oiled machine. Everything happened when it should and how it should. I could find no fault with anything even the smallest detail. This same spirit pervade the entire organization. I was so pleased with their performance, I gave them gifts, new clothes, anything I could think of that they might desire. They in turn donated or sold the items to help the patients at the clinic or for some other charitable enterprise.
    Finally, I stopped giving them gifts and asked them, 'What would you like me to do?', and if I could, I did."
    "Is that when you became a philanthropist?"
    "I was not a philanthropist, they were, I was merely their agent. Give credit where credit is due. Why do you think I was so humble at those presentations, the ones I could not avoid. It was not what I was doing, it was what they were doing. I started out trying to inspire them and in the end they inspired me. Eventually I had to live up to my own philosophy, my own standards. I really mellowed out after I admitted to myself that Middy had won. Were you not aware of the change?"
    "Yes." The recruiter got up and left with a sullen look on his face.
    "That's odd," Doc thought, but he soon fell asleep.
 

Return to Doc Table of Content
 

    The next day the recruiter said, "I checked the pictures of you being strangled on TV, to make sure my memory was correct. It was and so were you, your mouth was closed. I reread the articles and they all said the same thing, you were screaming as he bent you backward.
    I was able to find one picture showing the position of your elbows. It agrees with what you have told me. But after reviewing the incident again I would like to know what you said that made him go berserk?"
    "I refrain from telling the story because people accuse me of being anti-Semitic."
    "I know, I know," the recruiter said, smiling all the while, "Eve and Joe told me you are not anti any religion. You, just, think they are all stupid and if they leave you alone, you will not attack them."
    "People believe everything they read without questioning or checking to see if it is true and they sanitize it. Religions are stupid because they don't have a formal procedure for change."
    "Enough caveat, I promise I will be objective."
    "The only reason jews are involved is because of our stupid heritage. The whole problem arose, because he, like the rest of us commit the error of allness. He believed the bible, literally. That was all God had to say and it was all recorded without error or bias. Even religious people can't record without error or bias and certainly not everything.
    The shear stupidity.
    This type of person becomes so involved with what has been written that they completely miss the message. What has been written was written by men, not God. God knows our state of evolution, God knows we go out of our way to make everything fit what we want to believe. God knows we can not handle God's logic, so God has been telling us to try to understand the spirit of the message. God does not want our rituals, ceremonies, or celebrations, those things are for us, not God. God wants us to try to understand The Message.
    The second coming is already here. It occurs for each one of us when we realize that God is with us now, always has been, always will be. God has communicated with us, is communicating with us, and will communicate with us. Have you listened, are you listening, will you listen?"
    Doc paused, "These stupid fools, they have eyes to see and ears to hear, but they only see what they want to see and only hear what they want to hear and they don't understand what they do see and hear. They don't use their brains to understand The Message.
    What do they think we have brains for, to weigh us down, to keep us from floating into space?
    A nation of idiots. What other nation promotes stupidity and ridicules intelligence. As a nation we don't know the meaning of wisdom, we aren't even at the second level.
    Our country is unique in the history of the world, but everyone is trying to beat the system. If we spent half as much time making our system work, what a country we would have, instead we are pissing it away."
    In a continuous stream of venom, Doc cursed the stupidity of it all. He had started in a very gentle tone, but as he continued he became louder and louder until he was shouting. At first he was talking to the recruiter, but as he progress in his tirade, he was talking to no one.
    "I didn't expect this from you. I've had enough," the recruiter said with a snarl and left.
    The next afternoon, the recruiter took Doc outside to have some sunlight. The hospital was on the north side of a large circular park, contained by an outside perimeter sidewalk with a smaller circle side walk half way to the center. Two straight side walks divided the circles into quadrants. Where they crossed from north south and east west was a small cement circle twice as wide as the side walks. A small gentle rise ran east and west just south of the center.
    The recruiter took Doc to the top of the rise, it was a pleasant place, the entire park could be seen. They exchanged pleasantries and the recruiter said, "I Would like to try again, do you think you can remain calm and tell me the rest of the story without another tirade?"
    "I think so, I'll try." Doc paused, "He became angry when I questioned his word as authority because he was quoting what was to him the ultimate authority. He said, 'All I need to know is here, it tells everything God has said and everything that God has done.' He held his bible toward me.
    'Is your God so small that everything He has said and done can be contained in one book?'
    He quoted the verses about eyes to see and ears to hear. I said, 'People like you make me laugh, you only see and hear what you want. You can quote the verses, but you don't understand. God would not use words limited by our understanding. God would use timeless words, not dated words, if He did, He would have us update the bible as we learned. Since neither condition is met the only conclusion I can draw is that the bible was written by men. I will be very parochial about it, I don't know about your God, but my God would never make a mistake like that. There are many similar errors in the bible.'
    'It's the word of God.'
    'It may contain some words of God, but it has to many errors to be the word of God. Modern research indicates that portions were not even copied faithfully, but people like you are not willing to recognize the short comings of men, even holy men make mistakes.'
    'You're wrong, the bible is consistent and complete.'
    'Consistent? Let's start right at the beginning. When does your day begin and end?'
    'At sunset.'
    'You'd sure make a good straight man.
    In the beginning there was no light so how could anyone tell how long a day was.'
    He stammered and was unintelligible.
    'Don't tell me, we made God in our image and He took out His swiss pocket watch and called it a day after twenty four hours.'
    He became very angry with my juxtaposition. He became even angrier when I said, 'I know it's not complete because I wrote it.'
    He yelled at me, 'Blasphemy.'
    'Well, look who did write it.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'Look at what is going on in Israel.'
    The papers and TV were full of the latest blow up there. He knew what I meant because he and several others were talking about it as they walked into the auditorium. I had overheard part of the conversation and repeated a question he had answered to see if he would be consistent.
    'Do you believe anything either side says?'
    'No.'
    'Did you believe either side in 1973?'
    'No.'
    'How about the fifties or sixties or 1947?'
    'No.'
    'What are you driving at?'
    'Well, they're not a fine wine, they don't get better with age, do you think either side has changed during the course of history?'
    Now he was very angry again, 'Tell me what you're driving at.'
    'Well, you claim to have read the history of one side and you told me you believe them and just now you told me you didn't believe either side. How can that be? Either you believe them or you don't. Which is it?'
    'What are you talking about, I haven't read the history of one side.'
    'Yes you have you keep quoting it.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'Who wrote the bible?'
    'Men of God.'
    'They were jews. Jesus was a jew. The old testament is their history. You know they haven't changed, their history is replete with the same things over and over and it is happening again and you just told me you didn't believe either side.'
    That's when he went berserk. I forced him to face a logical contradiction. He probably reexamined all he kept sacred in that split second. Obviously, his belief would not tolerate the slightest hint of doubt. In that instant, I forced him to destroy the basis for his belief and his whole world came crashing down.
    Instead of rethinking and reevaluating, he lashed out, murder the messenger, it's a common human response. It takes to much effort to do what should be done. It's easier to remain where we are rather than grow and change. I understand his reaction, I've been there myself.
    He pulled pistol from his brief case and came after me. I don't remember what I said after that except for the last sentences, just before I knocked the gun from his hand, I asked him, 'Have we met before?'
    'Yes.'
    'With the same result.'
    With a snarl, 'Yes, and God told me to kill you.'
    'That's your ego talking. God never told anyone to kill another.
    Are your words so weak that you have to kill to defend them?' He hesitated for a fraction of a second that was all I needed.
    "Were you afraid?"
    "If I had been afraid do you think I would have been discussing theology with him? He was so shook up, if he had fired, he would have hit me only by accident. That's why I signaled my men, they knew what to do to protect the other people."
    "Your story is something else."
    "That's true, but it's an illustration of the many errors we make. Most people are not aware that their religion doesn't contain a procedure for change, they don't want it to change, they want something unchanging in this ever changing life. Sad, because then the only way change can occur is by death and destruction.
    I often wished I had learned to be wiser much earlier in my life, it took to long. Since that time, I have been more careful about chopping down other people's trees. We need our trees to keep us afloat on the sea of life. That's why he went berserk, I led to the destruction of his tree, he was drowning and lashed out at me.
    Everyone grows their own tree. We water it, feed it, and tend it all of our lives. Each tree must have its share of sunlight. Some trees stop growing, other need pruning, other remain bushes. If the forest becomes to crowded, some trees will be stifled.
    In the shadow of our trees we have peace, all our questions are answered. When night comes everyone climbs into their tree for protection. Our trees are our shelters when a storm comes. Everyone sees the sun through the leaves and branches of their tree. Everyone likes to listen to the wind blow gently through their tree.
    Some people look at another's tree and some climb another's tree. Some may prune or tend their tree differently after looking or climbing another's tree, but most just return to their own tree. Only a few trees are tall enough for a person to see the rest of the forest. Some may climb high enough to see sun more clearly than others, but no one leaves the shadow of the forest and ventures into the plains where the sun shines unobstructed.
    Now some take pleasure in shaking or chopping down another's tree. I don't understand their pleasure. What good is the lumber, what can be built with it? If you shake a person from their tree, what kind of fruit do you have? When a tree is being shaken, we cannot care for our tree, all we can do is hang on tighter.
    If our tree is chopped down, we must find shelter somewhere else until our tree regrows. If to many trees are chopped down the soil will be exposed to erosion. If the soil is protected by neighbors, new trees will grow. If the soil is removed from growing trees, they will lean for lack of support. Some will become sick and some will die. When a storm comes, the sick, the dead, and the unsupported trees will fall against the others. The other trees must be strong to withstand the weight. Only trees with strong roots can hold the soil in place and prevent the forest from complete destruction."
    "That's enough," and the recruiter wheeled Doc back. But Doc continued, "Just look at this country. Do you know of any other country that makes fun of intelligence? Wise people get even less respect. How can we educate people when one of the goals of education is to promote intelligence and wisdom. There is no incentive to obtain these goals. If a person achieves those goals, they get little or no help from the general public and then they are ridiculed. The problem is that Stupid thinks educated people should not make any mistakes. What a bunch of jerks. The sheer stupidity." He repeated himself several times and went into another tirade about stupidity all the way back to his room.
    The next day began the same as the previous day except the recruiter took Doc over the small rise to the far side of the park next to a small lake. He chose a bench near the water. He pushed the wheel chair along side the bench so both had a view of the lake. They sat watching the wind blow small ripples across the water.
    The recruiter jumped up, "We have to return." He pushed the wheelchair faster on the return. Doc could see someone signal, briefly, from the top of the rise and then disappear behind the rise. As they crossed the outside perimeter sidewalk a strange image appeared to Doc. The shadows on the buildings made them appear to be sharp spikes and the inside circle sidewalk appeared to blend into the east and west buildings and the north south side walk into the center building, forming a trident.
    The illusion disappeared as they crest the small rise and he could see the rest of the sidewalks. When they reached the center cement circle the recruiter pushed Doc into the northwest quadrant, but he failed to push the wheelchair completely off the north south side walk, one wheel was just over the crack.
    "I'll run ahead and find out what they want and return to get you."
    Doc was feeling good so he didn't mind. He was content to wait for the recruiter rather than wheel himself. He enjoyed the green grass, shrubs, and trees. It was the best day since the accident. Shortly after the recruiter disappeared another figure approached him. There was something about his gait that made Doc's hackles stand up. As the figure came closer Doc could see that he was dressed in black leotards and black patent leather shoes. He had a small pointed beard. Now, Doc recognized the feeling, he was rebelling to the man's arrogance, everything about him, exuded it.
    When he was very near Doc, "What are you doing blocking my path? Out of my way." He shoved the wheelchair to the side, almost tipping it over.
    Doc had never hated anyone so intensely, so quickly. The man underestimated Doc's long reach. Doc lashed out, hitting his knees, sending him sprawling. Doc was a sitting duck as the man got up and attacked, but again he misjudged Doc's capabilities. Doc grabbed his fist, twist slightly, and redirected it, just enough to cause him to trip over the foot supports and land on the edge of the sidewalk.
    Doc held one wheel of the chair as the force of his blow spun the chair around, ending up facing him. The man got up slowly and as he turned toward Doc, Doc could see some blood on his chin to the right of his beard and some blood on his right knee, visible through a tear in his leotards. "Do you wish to make it three out of three?", Doc said angrily. His blood pressure was up and his bald head was a deep red.
    "I've wasted enough time on you already," and walked away as if nothing had happened, just as arrogantly as before.
    The recruiter came running as the other man disappeared over the small rise. "That was not very smart."
    "I know, my male ego, it prevents the mind from working, it never crossed my mind that I might not have the strength to continue or that I might reinjure myself."
    "That's not what I meant, that was my leader. While you have a clinic, he has many hospitals, you have an organization in the city, he has them in every city in the world. He has much more power than you. You do not realize what you have done."
    He didn't say another word until they reached Doc's room. The recruiter was very upset, "I though I had better wait until you were back in your room before I told you, we lost Joe." He continued before the shock hit Doc. "Eve will be gone a few days." Doc said very weakly, "I understand."
    Doc was unaware of what happened next, he was so depressed about Joe, he didn't respond to anyone or anything. All he knew, was he hurt, he hurt all over. He didn't know how long he was that way when his mind began to respond. He awoke to the sharp gab of a needle, a nurse was giving him 'something for pain.' He fell back into a comatose state. The next time he was aware, he knew he was in a different room. Doc recognized the recruiter as he elevated the head of his bed. He could see some of the staff flitting by the door, they were all smiles. One came in and gave him a shot, she was smiling.
    He thought, "That's odd, I don't remember the staff being so happy," and he mentioned it to the recruiter. He said, "You were moved to the special case wing of the hospital. First you were in the admitting wing, that staff was at the first level of training, next you were in the general care wing, that staff was at the next level. Here, the staff has had special training."
    "I don't remember the admitting staff ever smiling and the general staff only smiled when they gave me 'something for pain.' Here they're smiling all the time."
    "You smiled more when you finished training, it's the same for them. Changing the topic, would you like to talk about Joe?"
    "No."
    "I'm afraid, I have more bad news for you, I have another assignment and I don't know when I will see you again. Are you sure you won't join my organization?"
    "If that man I met on the park sidewalk was your leader it will be a cold day in hell before I would even consider joining your organization."
    "I was afraid of that, although I hoped you would let me give you one last sales pitch, I won't bother now. You're a stubborn man. I'll see you some time later. Bye."
    He didn't wait for Doc to respond. Doc had never felt so depressed, Joe was gone, Eve was gone, and now the recruiter was gone. He was an enjoyable stand in for the rest of his people. Come to think of it, where were the rest of his people, he couldn't remember anyone besides Eve.
    A wave of pain racked his whole body. While it lasted, he couldn't think. As the pain subsided, his mind cleared. Then another wave of pain. It lasted longer and was more intense. His mind didn't have time to clear after it subsided before the next one hit, even more intense. Doc passed out.
    Doc could hear some one asking him questions, but his vision was blurry. Slowly, a male form came into focus. He repeated his question, "Are you sure won't change your mind?"
    "What are you talking about?" Doc drifted off, but not before he heard him say, "Nurse, when he wakes up give him another shot." When he woke the next time, "They wired me to a monitor."
    A few minutes later a nurse entered and gave him another shot. The pain returned almost immediately. 'Some thing for pain' took on a new meaning for Doc. He swore the shots caused the pain. Again the pain came in waves, again he passed out, and again the male figure asked him the same question. Only this time, Doc could make out the question, it was, "Will you join our organization?"
    "What has that to do with you?", Doc asked incoherently. Then, Doc noticed an IV in his hand. The figure responded, "The IV is so we can administer the mental reconditioning medicine at a steady flow."
    "What does that have to do with my joining your organization?"
    "You are a stubborn man," he released the clamp and let the IV flow. The pain was steady now. He returned after what seemed like an eternity and asked the same question and received the same answer. He increased the flow and now Doc was sure the medicine was causing the pain. He couldn't move, he could only look at the ceiling and talk, other than that he was immobile. The same procedure was repeated until Doc passed out.
    Doc awoke to a cold bare floor, he was naked. The room was bare, he could see, but he couldn't see any lights. The door had an open window with two bars across it. Other than that, the door was bare, no hinges, handle, or latch. He pushed against it, it didn't move.
    As his mind cleared, his first thought was, "I'm in their 'tank'." He got up and looked out the window, he could see down a long empty hall. He turned to inspect the room. The side walls had an odd texture, it felt almost like skin. The end wall and the floor had the same texture, but only on a strip the same width as the door, running directly from the door to the back wall and then up the back wall, like an odd looking aisle.
    He could hear doors shut with a metal clang, but when he went to the window, the hall was empty. If he continue to look out the window, nothing happened. If he looked away or sat down or paced the floor, he heard the doors again. He had no concept of time. Finally, the same male figure appeared at his window.
    "Have you changed your mind, yet. This is your last chance and like you we have given you many chances."
    "No, I will not change my mind, but why am I confined, I'm normal, let me out of here."
    "Not a chance. Nice pun don't you think?" He walked away laughing almost hysterically.
    Doc moved quickly to the door, but he disappeared, a metal door clanged shut, but that was all, he was in isolation again. He sat on the floor with his back against a wall. He was not sleepy or hungry, he just sat there. He knew, he could not do anything, he could only wait and see what their next move would be. He was glad of one thing though, the pain was gone. He checked his body. As far as he could tell, he had completely recovered, everything was working properly, even his brain.
    With nothing else to do, he began to reminisce. Odd thoughts passed through his mind and he laughed and cried according to the thought. Suddenly he moved with a start, "The wall moved." He turned and looked at it closely. It looked the same as before. He checked the distance to the aisle and from the aisle to the other wall, they appeared to be the same distance as before.
    "What had he felt?" He slid his hand along the surface. Every now and then, he could feel a small bump form right under his fingers. He checked the other skin like surfaces. They were still smooth. He moved across the room and sat with his back against the other wall. He sat, transfixed on the bumpy wall. Slowly, the bumps enlarged.
    Doc couldn't believe his eyes. Each bump grew into a penis, an immature penis. He went to the wall and checked it closely, he was seeing what he thought he saw, "I must be going insane." He shook his head and shut his eyes, but when he opened them again they were still there. No testicles or pubic hair, just hundreds and hundreds of them covering the entire wall.
    Time was still meaningless. Slowly, they matured, each one was circumcised, they began to erect. Something was odd about them, he examined one. He moved it to one side with his index finger, "My God, it has calibration marks." When he released his finger, he didn't move his hand fast enough. As the penis resumed its prior position, the end of it brushed his finger scratching him.
    He looked closely at the urethra and as he looked a hypodermic needle protruded from it. He looked at each of the others, the same thing was happening, only each one had a different style point.
    "I must be loosing my mind." He moved to the other wall and sank to the floor.
    "It is almost if not impossible to distinguish perception from reality. But, it sure looks and feels real to me."
    The wall moved toward him. He was confident it would stop at the aisle and it did. He was relieved when it did, but not for long. He felt the wall behind him move. Again, he jumped up with a start. He knew what was going to happen next so he sat with his back to the door rather than the end wall.
    "I'll have to save my strength."
    The side wall completed its metamorphosis much more quickly than the other wall and after it moved to the edge of the aisle, the remaining portion of the back wall went through the same metamorphosis. The aisle began to change. Doc stood up. It felt funny to walk on them, but not for long. When the needles began to stick his feet, he grabbed the bars on the window, placed his feet against the door, and walked his feet up the door until his feet were nearly to the bottom of the window.  He didn't know what would happen if he slipped and fell on all those needles and he didn't want to find out.
    He stopped looking at the needles and looked out the window down the hall. The recruiter and the man in black leotards walked slowly toward him. They were talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying because he was screaming. He was on the verge of hysteria and was not aware of what he was screaming.
    The man in the black leotards said with his beard accenting every word, "I knew I should not have let you do it your way. You failed again."
    "It was all that damn Eve's fault, she was the one who convinced Joe that he would be forgiven. That's why we lost him, we had him until then, damn that Eve. What could I do?"
    "I don't know, but it was your responsibility and you failed and now it looks like you are going to fail again. I knew I should have taken over sooner, but you insisted you would succeed. You completely misunderstood and underestimated him. Your methods didn't shake his faith, in fact, your methods didn't even cause him to question his faith, he didn't doubt for one second."
    "Most people fall apart when they are reminded of their errors before they die. He wasn't even phased. What could I do?"
    "You were supposed to destroy his faith. You didn't even draw a line on it, let alone make a dent."
    "He's still ours. He is anti religion. He plays God and follows that stupid philosophy, 'Don't get mad, get even."
    "That's what you don't understand about him, he has a very strong faith. He's just vehemently opposed to the self appointed protectors of the faith. He doesn't know they work for us."
    "I wish he had tried to change more of them maybe I would have succeeded."
    "You keep forgetting, he has changed, his people changed him, along with Middy and that Eve."
    "We still have one more shot. Nice pun don't you think," and they laughed.
    "You're right, lets make the most of it."
    Doc was screaming, "Let me out of here, let me out of here," as they walked up to his door. As Doc continued to yell, he recognized the man in the black leotards. He knew where he was and his sanity returned to him. He felt calm and peace sweep over him, a smile spread across his face, he knew what was going to happen next. As he let go, he could see the look of defeat on the man's face even as he made one last feeble attempt to snatch victory from defeat by yelling back at Doc, as Doc involuntarily yelled his last words.
    "Let me out of here. Let me out of here. Send me to THAT OTHER PLACE, but let me out of here."

"Where in hell do you think you are?"

Return to Doc Table of Content