A tiring heat poured from two radiators either side of me. I felt a sudden nostalgia for the Industrial Unit, even for Quinn, as the Head Nurse took over from Tanya, twisting and reversing the wheelchair in swift, jerky movements so that it stood at right angles to the desk which dominated the office. The heat was monstrous after the cold outside, and I feared I would be sick. It was no good messing someone like me about this way. I would have to swallow my vomit, perhaps choke to death on it there and then, for it would never come out.

Behind the desk sat an elderly, palsied-faced, methodically dressed man whom I did not recognize at first in my lathery confusion, but soon realized was Beckerminster, a doctor, my doctor, my consultant, judge and jury, a maker of decisions. So it was before him I was now being brought to account for my aberrations and misdoings. And my guilt descended on me like night -I was to blame for whatever crime they chose to charge me with, and it was with my customary silence that I would have to accept the verdict and sentence passed by this distinguished fellow who glanced at me briefly, sniffed, then set his eyes back to the desk on which was a webby folder. My history? Read to me. Let me see. No. I did not really want to know what was scrawled on those pages in many different hands, in untidy paragraphs dated back to God knows when.

The Head Nurse stood at Beckerminster’s side. The only sound in the room was the rustling of the pages of my history. Then Beckerminster gargled and spoke. ‘Are you sure you have the, er, authority? Shouldn’t I have some say in the matter? After all, I am the fellow’s doctor, the responsible medical officer, so to speak. And, you know, the prognosis is damnably poor. Wouldn’t you prefer more pliable material? Someone more amenable to the kind of service you offer? He seems happy enough here. Quite stable. Been the same for years. I have to be careful. Ethics and all that. It wouldn’t do to make the wrong decision. The man doesn’t speak for himself, obviously, therefore we must act on his behalf and hope we are fulfilling his best interests. I’ve heard a little about your work. Rumour mostly. Much of it may be quite untrue, but I’m led to believe that your methods are very avant-garde. Correct me if I’m being injudicious, but isn’t your approach to mental instability rather experimental and unverified as yet? I can’t permit my patients to be used as guinea-pigs, you must appreciate that.’