Read Online The Mind of Mr Soames by Charles Eric Maine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charles Eric Maine
Tags: Adapted into Film, Fiction.Sci-Fi
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soon he will be moved to psychiatric and we shall require EEG tests. Miss Henderson thought it might be helpful to see the patient at this stage, without disturbing him, of course.’
‘Very well, doctor.’
They went into the isolation room. Mr Soames was lying flat on his back in the bed, staring impassively at the ceiling. Quietly they walked towards him, standing about three feet away, observing him without comment. The nurse hovered uncertainly in the background.
His face, beneath the white skullcap of bandages, looked fit enough and almost intelligent, and his lips were moving in slow, regular motion, almost like a lethargic fish in a warm pool. As they stood there his eyes moved slowly, turning towards them—blank eyes, observing but not comprehending. They fixed abruptly upon something, and his dry lips quivered, then stretched into a strange smile that seemed to possess an odd gnome-like quality.
Together Conway and the girl followed the direction of his gaze until the thing that had attracted his attention became apparent. It was a gold charm bracelet dangling from Ann’s left wrist. She moved her arm, so that the tiny pendant charms twisted and glittered in the artificial light of the room. The smile of Mr Soames deepened and his hand moved, reaching out, hesitantly and uncertainly, towards the bright shining objects. His mouth opened fractionally and he uttered a faint meaningless animal sound, and then the arm dropped weakly on to the bed, but the eyes continued to focus on the animated luminance of the bracelet.
‘I think perhaps we ought to go,’ Ann said apprehensively.
Conway made a murmur of agreement. The eyes of Mr Soames followed them as they left the room.
In the wide corridor, on the way back to the staff living quarters, Ann said: ‘I’m sorry, Dave, but I can’t say I’m awfully fond of your Mr Soames. Frankly, he rather gave me the creeps.’
‘He’s harmless enough,’ Conway said reassuringly. ‘He’s reacting very much in the way one might expect—attracted by bright objects, like a baby.’
‘Yes, I know. But to see a grown man behave in that way—well, I don’t know, but I found it a little frightening. Or didn’t you think so?’
‘Not particularly. As a psychiatrist one gets accustomed to aberrations of human behaviour. Mr Soames could hardly have been less offensive.’
They left the psychoneural ward and walked across the intervening open space to the administrative block and the west wing.
‘I think perhaps Dr Breuer is right,’ she said. ‘Better to treat Soames as a baby—brainwash him, if necessary.’
Conway smiled sardonically. ‘You’re hardly giving him a chance, Ann,’ he remarked. ‘He’s thirty years of age and he’s been conscious for three days. He’s got to have time to adapt himself to his new environment.’
She took his arm and gripped it tightly. ‘That’s the funny thing, Dave. Somehow I don’t think he ever will. He’s no longer adaptable—he’s too old—and during those thirty years who knows what may have happened to his mind?’
‘Feminine intuition is synonymous with feminine fancy,’ he stated. ‘Within six months Mr Soames will be a different person entirely. Who knows—with the right kind of education and training he might well become a psychiatrist himself.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said despondently.
They walked on towards the domestic quarters.
5
It was almost a month later when they finally moved John Soames into a small private room in Psychiatric Ward B. In physical terms he had, for all practical purposes, recovered from the operation, and already his dark hair was beginning to grow quite strongly and almost luxuriantly on his head, concealing the thin purple scar where his naked scalp had been severed and clipped back for trepanning. He looked much stronger and healthier in every respect, but this was almost certainly due to his new, carefully graduated diet of solid food. Three male
‘Very well, doctor.’
They went into the isolation room. Mr Soames was lying flat on his back in the bed, staring impassively at the ceiling. Quietly they walked towards him, standing about three feet away, observing him without comment. The nurse hovered uncertainly in the background.
His face, beneath the white skullcap of bandages, looked fit enough and almost intelligent, and his lips were moving in slow, regular motion, almost like a lethargic fish in a warm pool. As they stood there his eyes moved slowly, turning towards them—blank eyes, observing but not comprehending. They fixed abruptly upon something, and his dry lips quivered, then stretched into a strange smile that seemed to possess an odd gnome-like quality.
Together Conway and the girl followed the direction of his gaze until the thing that had attracted his attention became apparent. It was a gold charm bracelet dangling from Ann’s left wrist. She moved her arm, so that the tiny pendant charms twisted and glittered in the artificial light of the room. The smile of Mr Soames deepened and his hand moved, reaching out, hesitantly and uncertainly, towards the bright shining objects. His mouth opened fractionally and he uttered a faint meaningless animal sound, and then the arm dropped weakly on to the bed, but the eyes continued to focus on the animated luminance of the bracelet.
‘I think perhaps we ought to go,’ Ann said apprehensively.
Conway made a murmur of agreement. The eyes of Mr Soames followed them as they left the room.
In the wide corridor, on the way back to the staff living quarters, Ann said: ‘I’m sorry, Dave, but I can’t say I’m awfully fond of your Mr Soames. Frankly, he rather gave me the creeps.’
‘He’s harmless enough,’ Conway said reassuringly. ‘He’s reacting very much in the way one might expect—attracted by bright objects, like a baby.’
‘Yes, I know. But to see a grown man behave in that way—well, I don’t know, but I found it a little frightening. Or didn’t you think so?’
‘Not particularly. As a psychiatrist one gets accustomed to aberrations of human behaviour. Mr Soames could hardly have been less offensive.’
They left the psychoneural ward and walked across the intervening open space to the administrative block and the west wing.
‘I think perhaps Dr Breuer is right,’ she said. ‘Better to treat Soames as a baby—brainwash him, if necessary.’
Conway smiled sardonically. ‘You’re hardly giving him a chance, Ann,’ he remarked. ‘He’s thirty years of age and he’s been conscious for three days. He’s got to have time to adapt himself to his new environment.’
She took his arm and gripped it tightly. ‘That’s the funny thing, Dave. Somehow I don’t think he ever will. He’s no longer adaptable—he’s too old—and during those thirty years who knows what may have happened to his mind?’
‘Feminine intuition is synonymous with feminine fancy,’ he stated. ‘Within six months Mr Soames will be a different person entirely. Who knows—with the right kind of education and training he might well become a psychiatrist himself.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said despondently.
They walked on towards the domestic quarters.
5
It was almost a month later when they finally moved John Soames into a small private room in Psychiatric Ward B. In physical terms he had, for all practical purposes, recovered from the operation, and already his dark hair was beginning to grow quite strongly and almost luxuriantly on his head, concealing the thin purple scar where his naked scalp had been severed and clipped back for trepanning. He looked much stronger and healthier in every respect, but this was almost certainly due to his new, carefully graduated diet of solid food. Three male
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