I finished my drink and threw the empty glass toward the surf.  I looked around me, at this beautiful island where, until a moment ago, I had thought I had spent such a lovely year.  The island was still as beautiful as I "remembered" it.  Taking all things into account, I was happy to have the memories.  There was bitterness, naturally; who likes to be played such a complete fool?  But on the other hand, who can really complain of a year's vacation on a deserted island paradise?  What else did I have to do?  The answer to that was, apparently, suicide attempt number five.  And had you really been enjoying your life, your many and varied friendships, your deeply fulfilling job and your myriad fascinating pastimes so very much?  Don't kid yourself, Hildy.

Still, even with all that . . .

"All right," I said, spreading my hands helplessly.  "I will thank you.  For showing me this, and more important, for saving my life.  I can't imagine why I was so willing to throw it away."

The CC didn't reply.  He just kept looking at me.  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

"That's the thing, really.  I can't imagine.  You know me; I get depressed.  I have been since I was . . . oh, forty or fifty.  Callie says I was a moody child.  I was probably a discontented fetus, lord love us, kicking out at every little thing.  I complain.  I'm unhappy with the lack of purpose of human life, or with the fact that so far I've been unable to discover a purpose.  I envy the Christians, the Bahais, the Zens and Zoro-astrians and astrologers and Flackites because they have answers they believe in.  Even if they're the wrong answers, it must be comforting to believe in them.  I mourn the Dead Billions of the Invasion; seeing a good documentary about it can move me to tears, just like a child.  I'm generally pissed off at the entirely sorry existential state of affairs of the universe, the human condition, rampant injustice and unpunished crimes and unrewarded goodness, and the way my mouth feels when I get up in the morning before I brush my teeth.  We're so goddam advanced, you'd think we'd have done something about that by now, wouldn't you?  Get on it; see what you can do.  Humanity will bless you.

"But by and large," and here I paused for effect, employing some of the body language the CC had been at such pains to demonstrate and which it would be pointless to describe, since my body was still lying on the operating table, "by and large, I find life sweet.  Not as sweet as it might be.  Not sweet all the time.  Not as sweet as this."  And I imagined myself making a sweeping gesture with my arm to include the improbably lush, conveniently provisioned, stormless, mildew/disease/fungus-free Eden the CC had created for me.  But I didn't make the gesture.  It didn't matter; I was sure the CC got it anyway.