“You know, I’m not actually demented,” Rose would say casually.

“Not demented! Isn’t that good news. Who should I call to come get you?”

“I don’t know,” Rose would admit. “But, you see, I was a bit off—”

“And that’s why they found you meditating in the bushes without any underpants on?”

“There was a reason for that,” Rose would say with a smile. “I was resting on my way…”

“On your way where?” Shanika would ask kindly.

“I don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is, those red capsules you give me—and the orange juice—are what make me seem demented.” A nice smile here.

“You drank your orange juice this morning,” Shanika will note.

“Not all the orange juice, just some. Never mind the orange juice.” Rose will be so patient. “Here’s the thing, since I’ve stopped taking the red capsules, my mind has gotten much clearer. I think I’m being intentionally drugged.”

“For how long?”

“Yesterday, of course. Before that…” There is no before that. Not yet.

“Is that why you hid in the bushes all night?”

“No. I must have … I must have needed something. So I…”

“Why didn’t you just press the bell so we could come help you instead of running away in a backless hospital gown?”

“I don’t know. Look.” She’d show Shanika the track marks, the capsules in the bed stand.

“You’re off your meds!” Shanika would say. “Let me get my supervisor.”

Rose is shaking her head back and forth on the pillow.

“Are you okay, Ms. Dennis?” Shanika asks.

Rose nods. She comforts herself with the knowledge that sanity is only a perspective agreed upon by social consensus. A handful of people thinking that when they die Hale–Bopp will beam them up is crazy. Ten million thinking Jesus will beam them up is the Rapture.

A short stretch of the Noble Eightfold Path opens before Rose:

Right View: Her mind works better when she does not take the red capsules.

Right Action: Don’t swallow red capsules.

Focus on a plan.

Lunch is over. Rose is parked in the activities room. Four more red capsules have been added to her cache in the bed stand. With food, and without drugs, her body and mind are continuing to gain strength and acuity, but complex ideation is laborious. Trains of thought are difficult to keep between the rails. The difference between thinking and dreaming is not yet always crystal clear.

Mr. Buschbaum is working on his puzzle. Chuck and Rose have been given computer printouts of a lighthouse, and colored markers. The markers have a wide brush-like tip at one end and a fine pen point at the other. The colors are jewel tones: emerald, ruby, lapis, cobalt, tourmaline, amethyst. Rose is drawn into the play of light and color and space. Around her life fades. Vaguely she is aware of people talking.