Healing and helping are only small parts of our work.
The rehabilitation center houses a large number of mentally unstable patients. Besides protecting them, we must also protect ourselves.
Patient Cobb: You! You people are tryin' to pull my soul clean outta my head! Steal my organs and then stuff those-those damn curses into my body!
Patient Cobb: I won't allow it! I-I WON'T!!
He was crouched in the corner, waving a syringe in his hand, threatening anyone who tried to approach.
Mesmer Jr.: He's completely lost control, Dr. Dorothea. We have to call for help!
Dorothea: No, wait! Come on, Dorothea, use your brain. Something must've triggered this. There has to be a way to calm him down.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Jerry Wilson: Let me give it a try, kid.
Mesmer Jr.: What? But you're a patient, too! We can't let you do this.
Dorothea: Are you sober, Mr. Wilson?
Jerry Wilson: Yeah, thanks to your throat-burning disinfectant.
I studied his face. He was right. His eyes looked clear. I nodded to the staff.
Jerry Wilson: Hey, Cobb, you ruined my breakfast. What's got you so worked up?
Jerry Wilson: Why don't we have a talk, huh? We can share my bread.
He inched closer to the hysterical old man.
Patient Cobb: Don't eat none of their breakfast, you hear?! The milk's poisoned!
Jerry Wilson: No problem, buddy! No problem at all! You know, I'm more of an alcohol lover than a milk drinker. I never even touch the stuff!
Patient Cobb: Ah, good, great! Your head won't morph into a diamond. Hah, you won't become one of those terrifyin' horned devils.
Cobb continued to mutter to himself.
Patient Cobb: Listen! Listen to me! They done somethin' to the spoons in this place. They changed 'em into triangles so they can bury geometry inside you! Then, "Bam!" it'll burst through your belly, and you'll be just like them!
Jerry Wilson: Look, I have a spoon in my pocket. See? It's oval! Does that make you feel better, buddy?
Jerry Wilson: Yes! We've figured them out! Now we just have to pretend that nothing's happened. Yeah, we'll go back to our rooms. That'll fool 'em! They'll think we're one of them!
Jerry Wilson put his arm around Cobb's shoulder and slipped the oval spoon into his pocket.
Who would've guessed that a triangular spoon would be the culprit?
It was easy to escort Cobb to his room after that.
Jerry Wilson: You should tone down the look on your face, little girl.
Jerry Wilson: Most of the time, they just need a friendly face to make 'em feel better.
Jerry Wilson: Your arcane skill ... what's it called again? Magnetotherapy? It's not a cure-all, you know.
Mesmer Jr.: But my arcane skill has been tested many times. The results can't be wrong.
Mesmer Jr.: No, I must have misused it. I haven't fully mastered it yet.
Mesmer Jr.: I was supposed to calm him down. It was my responsibility, my duty.
She started to scratch at her scalp, and her words went from monotonous repetition to murmured fragments and broken phrases.
I saw her pride wavering—saw her fear. Things had reached a tipping point.
Jerry Wilson: Is she alright?
Dorothea: Junior! Mesmer Jr.! Hey, kid!
I grabbed her trembling hand, and she finally raised her head to look at me.
Her eyes were red as she looked at me, but she hadn't done anything wrong.
Dorothea: How about we go for a walk? I need some fresh air.
...
The rest area near the rehab center wasn't fancy, but it was good enough for us.
We sat down by the lake, our reflected white clothing blending with the pale moonlight.
Out there, you can't hear the wails and groans of the patients. We finally had a moment of peace.
I took a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and placed it between my lips.
Dorothea: sigh
Dorothea: You know, humans like me always need something to rely on.
After a brief flame, the smoke swirled in the air.
Dorothea: Promise me you'll keep my little secret, won't you, Junior?
Mesmer Jr.: I will.
Dorothea: Thank you.
Dorothea: Some rely on alcohol, some in their dreams. Obviously, I rely on nicotine.
Dorothea: When faced with terminal illnesses and death, we rely on things all the more.
Dorothea: There's a nurse I know who specializes in caring for abandoned or defective arcanist children.
Mesmer Jr. hunched over, listening intently.
Dorothea: Every time a child died, she would kick a stone from one end of the hospital grounds to the other.
Dorothea: When she was done, she'd go back to her post as if nothing happened.
Dorothea: I'd never seen such an odd thing to rely on. Anyway, one day, she suddenly stopped doing it.
I paused to put out the cigarette.
Mesmer Jr.: Why would she do that? That helped her, didn't it?
Dorothea: I'll have to let you ponder that one yourself. I've told you my secret, so what's yours? What do you rely on, Junior?
Mesmer Jr.: I don't know. The SPDM doesn't allow the kinds of things you mentioned.
Mesmer Jr.: I just do as I'm told, moving back and forth between the SPDM and Laplace. My father says that I'll become an important member of the LSCC in the future and bring honor to the family.
Mesmer Jr.: He said that I must make my contribution to the peace of the world. He said that the Mesmer arcane skill is special—that I should use it to help calm those in need.
Dorothea: Heh. No one asked for your opinion, did they?
Mesmer Jr.: But it's the duty of the Mesmer family to put our arcane skills to good use. We're the only ones who can do what we do.
Mesmer Jr.: We have to follow the rules. We have to follow reason. That's how things get done.
Mesmer Jr.: My father said that the entire family gathered and decided on the optimal path for each of us, including me.
Dorothea: Ah, I'm jealous. I've always been more on the figure-it-out-as-you-go train.
Dorothea: I've done all sorts. Served at restaurants, delivered a foal ... Hah, I fainted the first time—wasn't expecting so much blood.
Dorothea: When I came to on the hospital bed, my future colleague said, "Guess the little duckling dove head first into the ocean." Hahaha!
Mesmer Jr.: I've never experienced anything like that. At the SPDM, we just do as we're told—what must be done.
Dorothea: You'll have your chance, Junior.
I patted her on the shoulder.
Dorothea: They're experimenting with memory storage using the artificial somnambulism machine. When things calm down at the rehabilitation center, I'll take you into a few of my memories. There are plenty of foals and plenty of times when I've made a fool of myself.
Dorothea: But I suppose your arcane skill lets you go to dreamland whenever you like, right?
She shook her head.
Mesmer Jr.: I haven't dreamed since I came to the LSCC.
Mesmer Jr.: At least it means I don't have nightmares anymore.
I was worried about her. Dreams help us release our repressed emotions. If her feelings didn't have anywhere to go, they would surely emerge elsewhere in her life.
Dorothea: Here, take this. It'll help you sleep.
Dorothea: I know, I know—a human giving you an arcane item. But this thing works.
Mesmer Jr.: I-I'm not allowed to use things like this.
I placed it in her palm and closed her fingers around it.
Dorothea: Put it by your bed.
Dorothea: Someday, you'll need it.
Jerry Wilson: Ah, welcome back, ladies.
Dorothea: Last set of pills, Jerry. Not long now until your treatment's complete.
I noted his physical condition in my notebook.
Dorothea: And please, stop self-harming as a form of protest. It's us, not the Foundation's people, who have to clean up after you.
Dorothea: Regulations dictate that you'll be with us for a while longer. I hope we can get along in the coming days.
Junior came in to administer his last round of Magnetotherapy.
Mesmer Jr.: Please close your eyes, sir.
But he didn't close them.
Jerry Wilson: Could you ... reduce the dose of the anesthetics today? I think I'm ready to dream.
She nervously looked up at me.
I shrugged.
Dorothea: Let him dream.
Cristallo: Hm?
She's reached the end.
This is the last entry in the diary.
