‘Quick!’ she screamed. ‘Everyone out. The Monster is coming!’

VIII
The Monster Of Sanitalis

Tancredi was having his favourite dream. He was a human bird, soaring above grey rooftops and green fields. The view was magical. The feeling of airlessness he hated on the Invincible was replaced by a sense of exhilaration and excited uncertainty over how long he could sustain his flight. He felt a weightless power over the world and humankind. Suddenly he experienced himself descending; he had lost the ability to fly. He glided back down to the ground, which began to shake as he landed.

Everything was pandemonium in the ward – the marble columns were cracked, the windows splintered. Tancredi felt the old fear bubble up, but his dream gave him courage. He would survive whatever was about to happen.

Tamany appeared at his bedside. He’d been playing with Kasbek while Tancredi slept.

‘I think we’d better leave,’ he said, ‘we’ll help you out of bed.’

Kasbek jumped up and licked Tancredi’s mouth in canine solidarity.

‘Good idea,’ said Tancredi, ‘it feels like an earthquake.’

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up with a groan and took Tamany’s hand.

‘You coming, Kasbek?’ he asked.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Tamany replied. ‘Of course he is.’

Kasbek sprang into the air; he understood what they were saying.

‘Here dearies, follow me, follow me,’ clucked the Matron, scuttling down the ward, practising another can-can kick. ‘I’d better take this just in case.’

She grabbed hold of a bed pan.

‘Why’s she doing that funny kick?’ Tamany asked. ‘She keeps trying to get everyone to do it. Is it an exercise for the sick?’

‘I’ve got no idea,’ Tancredi replied. ‘It’s very odd, maybe we’ll find out later.’

They arrived in the hospital parking lot to find the Chief Psychiatrist waiting for them in an ambulance.

‘Get in,’ he cried, ‘we haven’t much time.’

Tancredi didn’t want to accept his help. He was sure the practice of his art had sent the Chief Psychiatrist mad. Still, there didn’t seem to be much choice. The hospital was collapsing about their heads, and the ambulance offered a way out.

‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

‘I can’t say,’ replied the Chief Psychiatrist. ‘I think something’s wrong with our health system.’

The vibrations got worse. As the ambulance sped from the car park, a terrible groan issued from the hospital behind them. Suddenly Tancredi realised they were driving backwards.

‘Why are we going in reverse?’ he asked.

‘I’m shocked by your question,’ the Chief Psychiatrist replied. ‘Don’t you care about health and safety?’

‘Not particularly,’ Tancredi retorted.

‘Health and safety on Sanitalis,’ he said, turning to look at Tancredi rather than the road, ‘dictates that I’m only allowed to drive backwards.’

No wonder, nonsense made sense on Sanitalis. Now Tancredi was worried for his life.

‘Please watch where you’re going,’ he begged.

‘It also dictates that the addressee must be addressed with full eye contact to avoid a paranoid reaction. But since we must leave the area, I also have to drive. Given these circumstances, I am therefore required to look at you while I drive. It’s a logical conclusion to a series of empirical events. Surely you understand this?’