Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The Psycholigist - A Short Story


ThePsychologist
We are many things. We are the creatures that inhabit this world. Everybody has the potential to be somebody, but not everybody chooses to be somebody. One thing I have learned is that people desire the most, what they cannot have. We are always looking, searching for the concealed anonymous secrets of our vast universe. The mordant world means nothing.
I am a doctor. Not just any doctor. I am a specific type of doctor. The type of doctor you come to when you are broken and need someone to fix you. I am a psychologist. You will come to my office that is 12 stories up, towering over the insanely chaotic city of New York. In my office you will sit, and we will talk. We will talk about all of your deep rooted psychologically ingrained issues. All of your secrets, all of your memories, you will tell me. The issues that you have do not matter to me. Your problem, your visual impairment to see the world as it actually is, is not crucial to my existence.
This is how it works. You pay me and I prescribe you drugs. Drugs are like a lamp. A lamp reproduces artificial sunlight. Drugs reproduce artificial happiness. Happiness is what every person strives for. It explains everything. Why do we have war? Because we want only what we want. What we want will make us happy. Why do we have religion? We are all searching for something. Something like an eternal happiness, happiness that will last us forever. It sounds theoretically nonsensical, but it is not. I believe that the day of eternal happiness has arrived. You see, I think there comes a time when a man has to ask himself whether he wants a life of happiness or a life of meaning, two very different paths. I mean, to be truly happy, a man must live absolutely in the present. And with no thought of what's gone before, and no thought of what lies ahead. But, a life of meaning, a man is condemned to wallow in the past and obsess about the future. My question is to you will you choose a life of happiness or a life of meaning. I am The Psychologist and this is my story.
I have patients with all kinds of disorders, from depression to trichotillomania. I have a meeting with a new patient today. I hear a loud obnoxious knock on my office door.
“You may come in.” I say in a calming monotone voice. A man walks in with his head hanging low from his shoulders in despair. He looks dirty and smells like a homeless individual. I can tell he has not shaved in weeks. The short man sits in the chair parallel from my desk. He looks directly at the ground and says
“I feel nothing anymore. No pain, no sorrow, no nothing!”
“What is the problem sir?” I say.
“Why? I just don’t understand. I am so messed up, so useless. There isn’t no drug, no nothing that can help now. This is it, this is the last mistake ill ever ma…..” I get so sick of people like this. They have nothing left to live for, so why don’t they just die. Who is to say that we cannot play God? These apathetic people are just taking space, breathing somebody else’s air. All of them are blind, asleep. Humanity doesn’t need another person who makes nothing out of themselves.
“I’m here to help you sir.”
“No! You are not here to help! You are just like the rest of ‘em!” The man screamed at me. He is now standing. The man pulls out a gun from his pocket and holds it to my head. An exhilarating chill runs down my spine.
“I would not blame you if you shot me dead on this very floor. You are not the first man that tried to kill me.” I said remaining calm.
“I’m goin’ to do it! You better shut up man or ill pull the trigger!” He said.
“You are doing this all wrong. This is how a real hunter takes down his prey!” I yell as I jump up from my chair, punching the man in the stomach. He drops to the floor in pain, as he should be having difficulty breathing. I picked up his gun, got down on my knees, pointed it at his head, and said.
“How do you like it? People like you are the scum of humanity. You wonder the streets only caring about yourself. You only want what is best for you and not for the rest of our civilization. You are the reason I am who I am.” I pull a syringe out of my pocket and stab with it. I pumped the syringe into his neck with a feeling of self importance.
Stuffing the body into a body bag, I think about the deed I have done. Some would say this act was inhumane and disgraceful. I say it is all for the greater good. My definition and your definition of the greater good will differ to some extent. Is taking one life to save another wrong? I do not think so. I stuff the body bag into a closet conveniently located behind my desk. Then I wait.
I wait until everybody has the left the office building. It is now as dark as the city of New York will get. A large black van pulls up in the back ally of the office building. I take the body out of the closet, down the elevator, and through the back door.
I approach the van and a tall man dressed in black steps out.
“Wow, second one this week! You know I gotta’ say I was a bit skeptical about your methods when you started workin’ for this company, but now I’m impressed.” He said
“Well I’m pleased I could be of assistance.”
“You sure you don’t want any compensation?”
“Money is not my motive. Give me this body and my services will be rendered full.”

“Alright then”
“Take this body to St. Luke’s hospital on 113th street and Amsterdam Avenue.”
“Uhh…. yea sure. Why do you want this body taken there?
“Just do what I say!”
The man takes the body. He drives down the street in his van. I go across the street to the parking garage, find my car and leave. I drive to St. Luke’s hospital. I go into the hospital and ride the uncomfortably crowded elevator to the 10th floor. I go to room 1302. I knock on the door and a weak voice says.
“C...come in”
I walk into the room and see an elderly man laying on his deathbed. His breathing is slow and heavy. The expression in his pail skinned face is beginning to fade.
“H…hello…what are you d…doing here?”
“I have the organs you will need to survive.”
“Where d...did you get them?”
“An anonymous donor, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you will live.
“Th…thank you David”
“I love you Dad.”
“I love you too Son”
Sometimes the world is not as it seems…I am the psychologist.