truck. It was twilight. The trailer suddenly hit a
bump, swung out from behind the bicycle, and slammed into my rear
wheel. I nearly fell from the impact. Then I lurched forward as the
trailer disengaged.

"Nuna!" I cried, glancing back, but the wheel had stopped spinning and
it took my full attention to balance the skidding, swerving bicycle.
Moments later the truck smacked me with a wall of air as it thundered
by, and the bike quickly came to a halt. I ran up the hill to the
wayward trailer and found Nunatak peering out from the doggie-carrier.
She tilted her head as if to ask, "Is this something all huskies go
through?"

I sat with the pup in the tall grass. I was devastated. The rig was
the vehicle I had chosen to exercise and exorcise my body and mind. It
was also my means of transportation. Now, it was broken. As the sky
went from deep purple to black, the memory of Atmananda calling me his
"chemical experiment" seemed to usher in the darkness. Other
recollections bubbled up from the murky depths, only to burst into
vivid, unnerving images. Here was Atmananda telling me that he was a
professional, that I was extremely sick, and that he was going to help
me. Here he was telling me to swallow my pride. And here he was
telling me to swallow the Stelazine.

Cars zoomed by now and then, dispelling apparitions of my former
mentor. Headlights flashed an angry light at the severed trailer, the
pretzel-shaped wheel, and the fallen gear strewn in disarray. Then the
lights were gone, leaving behind a fiery-comet afterimage.

I wondered why Atmananda had fed me the drug. Did he actually believe
that he was helping me? If so, why didn't he recommend that I seek
guidance outside his direct sphere of influence? It seemed more likely
that, unable to tell the difference between helping and controlling
people, he gave me the drug to strengthen his grip on my mind. But I
suspected another motive. I knew that Atmananda had often used me as a
sounding board for new ideas and, later, for LSD. He may have wanted
to observe my reaction to the Stelazine before using it on others--or
on himself.

As I meditated on Atmananda's possible motives, I swatted mosquitos and
picked at scabs of aging stings. I did not yet know that he had given
Stelazine to at least one other inner circle follower.

I tried to remember how I had felt during the Stelazine experiment. I
recalled feeling dizzy. I also recalled feeling