Succumb to the third world to escape the tragic realities that lie beyond my steel door? Is life worth living in the jaws of society’s trash can for misfit minds? What can I possibly achieve or contribute to mankind in this steel and concrete box with a damn loud laughing wall that moves? Just give up? More questions raced through my mind like a 33 record set on 78, growing more and more intense. Suddenly a horrifying shock volted through my body that threw my slumped shoulders back and set me even more upright. Reality forcing itself upon me like a vicious slap in the face broke my trance and cracked my frozen joints. Something was crawling up my spine. My imagination? After gathering what few senses I had left I knew it was not. There was something crawling up my spine. I reacted by jerking my shirt over my head ignoring the fact it had buttons. Blind fear has no mercy for material items. 3 buttons popped. Flinging the shirt to the floor the feeling left my back. Peering down at the shirt I saw the invader. A cockroach about 3 centimeters long and black had been tap dancing on my lumbars. The gross insect was harmless but shocking. The rodent did make up my mind for me. I came back to this side of reality but was still thinking about my inner-debate. I did let the hideous little thing go. Secretly I was content with the awareness I had of myself proud of the mental and physical victory. I am not a mental basket case. I still had some fight in me. I have not lost but I have not won. I broke a window and I don’t even know why.

Hie writer received a letter, dated January 30, from another patient at Lima:

Dear Sir,

Let me get to the main point. Within twenty four hours of Bill’s visit by his attorney, Bill was transferred from I.T.U. 5 to I.T.U. 9. Nine is a stronger ward than five.

The decision for the transfer was made by the “team personnel” in the daily team meeting. It came as a surprise and shock for Bill, yet he handled it well …

The only time Bill and I can converse now is at recreation. This is where I found out that the pressure on him was on full. He says his visits, mail, phone calls are all cut off until he fires his attorneys. He has been told to stop the book, and is harassed by attendants. (I too have been accused of aiding Bill on the book and have realized that these people don’t want the book out.)

I was told Bill will be staying the remainder of his time here on a strong ward …

[name withheld]

On March 12 the writer received a letter written in Serbo-Croatian, postmarked Lima. The handwriting was unfamiliar.

Subata Mart Osmi 1980

Kako ste? Kazma nadamo. Zaluta Vreme. Ne lefienje Billy je spavanje. On je U redu ne brinite. I dem na pega. Uiinicu sve Sta mogu za gaft moiete ra fcunati na mene “Nuzda ne poznaje zakona.”

Nemojete se Ragen

Saturday March 8, 1980

How are you? I hope splendid. I lost time. There is no cure for Billy in sleep. He is fine. Do not worry. I am going to rule. I will do everything I can for him. You can count on me. "Necessity knows no laws.”

Ragen