You Don't Understand

Dr Sigmund Evans opened the door to his office as gently led his newly hired secretary Miss Mary Martin down the drap beige hallway of the Kirkbridge Asylum, completing their tour of the facility. He was just about to motion her inside when a shout came from the direction far end of the dimly-light hallway.

"You don't understand. It's true all of it. Can't you tell by the equations? Mein Gott, the world rides through the cosmos. It's all so clear... on the back of a turtle shell, on the back," gibbered a wild haired patient in broken english, as two large orderlies tried to push the straight-jacketed man down the hallway leading from the patient cells to the electro-therapy unit.

"Quiet down, Al or it's no jello for you this evening," replied one of the large men as they continued to force the older man who was covered in scribbles of what appeared to be black magic marker down the hall.

Dr. Evans quickly motioned a shocked Miss Martin into his office and to a comfortable chair by his large oak desk. "I'm sorry you had to see that first hand, on your first day, Mary. You don't mind if i call you Mary, No?"

"No, it's just. Well I've never quite scene a man so out of sorts. Are they all like that, Doctor?" she mumbled back as she tried to pull herself together.

" Oh no my dear...Most patients aren't as bad off as old Al is. He's quite a unique case. He receives daily doses of ECT around this time and a large amount of Thorozine and lithium on the eights daily, but still stubbornly maintains his psychosis and delusions. Quite a case he is. First came to us about a quarter century ago in 1916, claims he's a world famous mathematician and physicist, of course the problem is nobody's ever heard of him.

"Why that's aweful to hear, Doctor. And there's no way to convince him, otherwise?" Mary replied.


"Oh no. His psychosis is quite extra-ordinary and heavily ingrained. In fact, if you didn't know he was so clearly out of sorts one would almost believe him. His belief is that earnest," chuckled Sigmund as he lit a cigarette, offered one to Mary and proceeded to he pull out Al's thick file."He once even had one of our younger staff Psychologists convinced enough that he investigated and put together a complete report on Al's history in hopes that it would shock him out of his denials and help him break out of his psychosis.

Dr. Evans handed her the file before continuing. "Take a look, His file is quite remarkable as I said. Al was a patent clerk in the German Reich up until the Kaiser's conquest of Britian following the Franco-Prussian war. He actually did show a considerable level of mathematical ability early in his life but settled on a bureaucratic career, once the war wound down. Round about 1904 his wife died during childbirth and his slow slide into psychosis began. It culminated when he was found wandering the streets of New York, after disappearing from Berlin. The NYPD found him in central park, stark naked, shouting about how 'Tesla's infernal Dimensional gate' had stranged him here."

Mary took a drag off her cigarette as she perused the copious notes , "What's a Tesla?"

The Doctor chuckled back. "Who not what. It turns out our research showed that Tesla was an obscure Serbian inventor. He had a few bizarre theories but really contributed nothing of note. He died at the turn of the century in a German Gulag during the later days of the war, no doubt Albert pick up this bit of obscure trivia from a newspaper and incorporated it into his psychosis. Of course we tried to explain that to Al but he wouldn't listen. He firmly believes he's lost on a paralell earth, as I said it's quite sad. Over the years his condition has gotten progressively worse. It started with wild rants about the relativity of motion and progressed to wild soliloquies on aether and the compositon of energy and matter. Complete poppy-cock of course. I'm something of an Amateur Physics buff myself and would know if it wasn't. But as I said it's most unfortunate anyways. If today was any indication, two decades of the best treatments available to clinical science appear to only be holding the demons at bay for Albert but in cases like his progress still seems out of our grasp," finished the doctor, sighing heavily as he took back the file and placed the large-manila binder back on his desk.

"That's all so sad, but truthfully getting an opportunity to help poor souls like Al is why I wanted this position," replied Mary.

"I as well, young lady," replied the Doctor. "And god willing the march of progress will continue and we'll finally be able to help poor wretches like Albert one day," finished the doctor as off in the direction of the electroshock chamber gutteral screams began to echo.