Fools Follow, Part 8

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The Stranger said. Bart started, and almost dropped the blue lozenge for the second time. Bart looked to his left where he was sitting, exactly the same as before, only now his hair was more askew and uneven, matching his flushed face. He was closer than he had been before, and his eyes were still fixated on the pill. “I really need that blue pill. Now, look. Let’s take this calmly last time. No one – is -” He dropped his voice for a second. “Crazy. Well, maybe you are. But then again, maybe you aren’t. Not my problem. I’m here to stop the world from ending, and I need that pill. So, unlike last time, why don’t you hand it over, slowly, so we don’t drop it, and we’ll just call it a day?”

Bart hesitated. For a second, he thought about handing over the pill. He knew that later, when he wasn’t being watched as intently, he could mosey over to the wall and retrieve his earlier pill, and that way he would have taken his pill, and saved the world as well. He liked the way the words sounded. It made him feel important, just like someone from a movie. It was a feeling he almost never had, and it was a good feeling. He smiled. He was going to give the Stranger the pill. He turned, and was going to place the pill into the Stranger’s grasp, which was a mere two inches away when he realized something.

When he had been seated by the Orderly, both chairs to his left and right had been empty. Bart knew that as a fact. He didn’t know his age. He didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t know much else. But he kept a close eye on things. Sure, sometimes he forgot things that had happened the day before, but in the immediate breathing present, he knew the details. Bart also knew that no one had come up from any direction to sit in either of the chairs. The combination of these two facts was most distressing to Bart. It was more distressing than speaking that word and losing his pill, and being reseated. It meant that something very wrong was going on in his mind, and for the first time in a long time, he actually wondered if there was something going on in his mind that was funny.

“You’re not real.” He said, retracting his hand away from the stranger.

“What? Come again?” The Stranger said in that accent of his. “I’m most definitely real, thank you very much. Why would you say something like that?”

“I didn’t see you sit down.” He whispered, fearing what other people would say when they saw him talking to something that might not be there.

“What’s that? Oh, the chairs. Well, this is turning out to be most difficult. How’s this?” With that, the Stranger poked Bart solidly in the leg. “Is that real enough for you?”

“Ouch.” Bart said, rubbing his leg. “Stop that.”

“Course I’ll stop it, because I’m real. Now how about…”

“No – no.” Bart began again in a hushed whisper. “Why don’t you just go away. You’re not real. I’ve heard about you in groups. You’re my imagination at work. You’re not really there. You’re in my head and the sooner I realize that you’re not real I’ll be better by you being gone.”

“The thing is, Bart, you’re being most difficult.” The Stranger said as sweat trickled down the side of his stubbled face. “That’s the trouble with coming to these places, is that you fellows have something I need, but sometimes it’s impossible to get it because you don’t listen to reason.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Bart said confusedly. “If I reason, I know that you are not real and I’m just talking to myself because I’m lonely or for something else. It happens in group all of the time.”