ht?"

The doctor acted as if he hadn't heard me. "That's just fascinating, Art. Thank
you for sharing that. Now, here's a question I'd like you to think about, and
maybe you can tell us the answer tomorrow: What are the ways that your friends
-- the ones you say betrayed you -- used to show you how much they respected you
and liked you? Think hard about this. I think you'll be surprised by the
conclusions you come to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said, Art. Think hard about how you and your friends interacted and
you'll see that they really like you."

"Did you hear what I just said? Have you heard of the Tribes?"

"Sure, sure. But this isn't about the Tribes, Art. This is about you and --" he
consulted his comm, "Fede and Linda. They care about you a great deal and
they're terribly worried about you. You just think about it. Now," he said,
recrossing his legs, "Fatima, you told us yesterday about your mother and I
asked you to think about how *she* feels. Can you tell the group what you found
out?"

But Fatima was off in med-land, eyes glazed and mouth hanging slack. Manuel
nudged her with his toe, then, when she failed to stir, aimed a kick at her
shin. The doctor held a hand out and grabbed Manuel's slippered toe. "That's all
right, let's move on to Lucy."

I tuned out as Lucy began an elaborate and well-worn rant about her eating
habits, prodded on by the doctor. The enormity of the situation was coming home
to me. I couldn't win. If I averred that Fede and Linda were my boon companions,
I'd still be found incompetent -- after all, what competent person threatens his
boon companions? If I stuck to my story, I'd be found incompetent, and medicated
besides, like poor little Fatima, zombified by the psychoactive cocktail. Either
way, I was stuck.

Stuck on the roof now, and it's getting very uncomfortable indeed. Stuck because
I am officially incompetent and doomed and damned to indefinite rest on the
ward. Stuck because every passing moment here is additional time for the
hamsters to run their courses in my mind, piling regret on worry.

Stuck because as soon as I am discovered, I will be stupified by the meds,
administered by stern and loving and thoroughly disappointed doctors. I still
haven't managed to remember any of their names. They are interchangeable, well
shod and endowed with badges on lanyards and soothing and implacable and
entirely unappreciative of my rhetorical skills.

Stu