‘Yeah,’ said Sebastian, ‘it was the best feeling I’ve ever had, but I was terrified at the same time. I knew the sky was going to go mental and try to take revenge on me. That was when the two policemen came up to arrest me, saying that I was causing a public disturbance, because I’d been screaming at the sky when we were fighting and throwing bits of clothing at it and I was almost naked, although I hadn’t noticed. I tried to run away, but they caught me and twisted my arm and forced me into a car and took me back to the station and all the time I was screaming through the window, trying to warn people because I could see the bits of sky floating back up and rebuilding the dome. That’s when I was sectioned for the first time. They tried to give me pills in the hospital, but the pills were yellow, so I knew where they came from and I refused to take them. In the end, they started giving me injections once a fortnight and said I was all right to go home and live with my parents. They call it “care in the community”, but seeing as I hate being there and my parents hate having me there, it doesn’t seem like a very good description.’

‘What would be a good description?’ asked Martin.

‘“A cat in a hat” would be a better description, because at least it rhymes,’ said Sebastian.

‘Or a cat in a sack,’ said Martin.

Sebastian darted a look at him. ‘I see what you’re doing,’ he said, ‘I see what you’re doing, but it’s all just dead words, isn’t it, like “schizophrenia”? The doctors say that I have “schizophrenia”, but that’s just a word. It doesn’t mean they understand anything. They say it’s genetic, or caused by a chemical imbalance, or it’s because of the skunk, or the speed, but they don’t know what it is, what it really is …’

Sebastian seemed gridlocked from trying to use words to affirm the impotence of language.

‘All we care about here,’ said Martin, ‘is what it feels like for you, what it is, as an experience, and I promise you that the better we understand that the less you will suffer.’