“Oh, no,” whispered Virgil.

“Try not to let it bother you,” I said to him.

“I can’t help it, Doug. I see one of those things and everything starts turning black and I feel like I’m being strangled.”

I put my arm around him, and he tried to move away, to rise from the love seat, but he couldn’t because we were pressed together too tightly on it. So I held him closer, and after a restless moment he ceased moving and sat quietly beside me, though his eyes worked left then right, left then right, looking anywhere but directly ahead and never settling on Barry and Maxwell. I recognized this state as a paranoid regression of sorts: Virgil’s bodily quiescence, the rigid and insistent placidity mediated by acute cerebral hypervigilance. It was as if forbidding thoughts lay perilously in wait, unwelcome feelings that even simple physical movements might shake free and liberate. As I have already pointed out, Virgil’s childhood years were not cheery. He suffered ailments, and several times came close to death. He was picked on mercilessly.

I grabbed Virgil’s arm and pulled him close to me as, from room’s center, the voice of Barry commanded, “Push Max’s sleeve up, someone.”

Christopher did this, and Barry plunged the needle in Maxwell’s arm.

“There,” Barry said when the job was done. Fielding behind his camera added, “That’s a wrap.”

Inappropriate remarks like the above are what make us hate Fielding and his pointless movies of whatever sorrow we happen to be going through. Why even dignify him with a response? Barry explained, “Max’s tongue is green from leaves he’s been chewing. See these flecks?” He stuck a rubber-gloved finger in Maxwell’s mouth and swabbed one out as Fielding started his camera again and leaned in for an extreme close-up. “Some kind of botanical psychoactive he must’ve picked up in the jungle. Probably a datura. It’s anybody’s guess how long Max has been hallucinating. Several hours, possibly longer. Did anyone happen to see Max earlier in the day? No? Heart rate is down and respiration is impressively low. The pupils are contracted and exhibit minimal sensitivity to light. I’ve given him Narcan, intramuscularly, to counteract the narcotic. What is it with you guys and your drugs? Can someone please get the dog to be quiet?”