eadaches....

2. Harry Collins--1998

It took them ten seconds to save Harry from falling, but it took him
over ten weeks to regain his balance.

In fact, well over two months had passed before he could fully realize
just what had happened, or where he was now. They must have noticed
something was wrong with him that morning at the office, because two
supervisors and an exec rushed in and caught him just as he was going
out of the window. And then they had sent him away, sent him _here_.

"This is fine," he told Dr. Manschoff. "If I'd known how well they
treated you, I'd have gone couch-happy years ago."

Dr. Manschoff's plump face was impassive, but the little laugh-lines
deepened around the edges of his eyes. "Maybe that's why we take such
care not to publicize our recent advances in mental therapy," he said.
"Everybody would want to get into a treatment center, and then where
would we be?"

Harry nodded, staring past the doctor's shoulder, staring out of the
wide window at the broad expanse of rolling countryside beyond.

"I still don't understand, though," he murmured. "How can you possibly
manage to maintain an institution like this, with all the space and
the luxuries? The inmates seem to lead a better life than the adjusted
individuals outside. It's topsy-turvy."

"Perhaps." Dr. Manschoff's fingers formed a pudgy steeple. "But then,
so many things seem to be topsy-turvy nowadays, don't they? Wasn't it
the realization of this fact which precipitated your own recent
difficulties?"

"Almost precipitated me bodily out of that window," Harry admitted,
cheerfully. "And that's another thing. I was sent here, I suppose,
because I'd attempted suicide, gone into shock, temporary amnesia,
something like that."

"Something like that," the doctor echoed, contemplating his steeple.

"But you didn't give me any treatment," Harry continued. "Oh, I was
kept under sedation for a while, I realize that. And you and some of
the other staff-members talked to me. But mainly I just rested in a
nice big room and ate nice big meals."

"So?" The steeple's fleshy spire collapsed.

"So what I want to know is, when does the real treatment start? When
do I go into analysis, or chemotherapy, and all that?"

Dr. Manschoff shrugged. "Do you think you need those things now?"

Harry gazed out at the sunlight beyond the window, half-squinting and
half-frowning. "No, come to think of it, I don't believe I do. I feel
better