Chapter 13

"I must show you something," Kostya addressed Henry, lowering his voice.

"What exactly?" asked Henry, paying no attention to Kostya's whisper. Kostya pulled the statute of the SPLE from his jacket and handed it to Henry.

"What is this?" asked Henry, holding the manuscript pages in his hands.

"Read it. It is not long; I shall wait until you finish," said Konstantin, leaning back in his chair.

A woman in a white coat appeared in the doorway. "Henry Fromm, good afternoon, how are you today? Is everything well?" she asked, then noticing Konstantin, inquired, "Is this your friend?"

"Yes, Anastasia Grigorievna," confirmed Henry, simultaneously concealing the pages Kostya had given him to read.

"Please come see me after you finish your conversation," the doctor addressed Konstantin.

"Very well, I shall come," Kostya agreed. After the doctor disappeared behind the white doors of the narrow corridor, Kostya impatiently asked Henry, "Well then, have you read it? What do you think?"

"Wait," Henry was finishing the last sections. "What do I think? I think this is the ravings of a madman."

"What irony," Kostya reacted mockingly to Henry's conclusion. "I see it differently. I can even envision how all of this might be brought to life, every step. I have been dreaming of it for many nights now. Recently I have read more scientific literature than I read during all my years of schooling at the gymnasium and university combined."

"You speak as though you wish to trade places with me. Let us rather discuss this when I get out of here. You understand, in this place one hardly wishes even to think about anything that lies beyond the bounds of accepted social views, let alone speak of it or act upon it."

"Very well, I agree. But now I must find something out." Kostya rose, tucked the statute back into his jacket, though he already knew it by heart, and headed toward the door of Henry's attending physician.

"Please, have a seat, I shall be with you momentarily," Henry's doctor, Anastasia Grigorievna, addressed Kostya. She retrieved a folder from the sideboard and placed it on the desk at which she then seated herself. "So you are Henry's friend. What is your name?"

"Konstantin," answered Kostya, sitting beside her at the same desk.

"You too are a Konstantin who takes an interest in philosophy?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, somewhat," Konstantin replied modestly.

"Henry is a good young man, but he reads far too much. That is precisely why I wished to speak with you. Here," she produced from the desk the books Kostya had recently brought Henry, "you brought these books, did you not? This will not be beneficial for him at present; he needs to read less."

"I beg your pardon, but is reading truly harmful?" asked Kostya, realizing that the doctor's words somehow did not fit within the framework of his worldview.

"I have nothing against novels or newspapers, but philosophy is not what he needs right now. Henry speaks of the philosophy of Hitler, Nietzsche—true, he also mentions Freud and Jung, whom we too studied, but he is not a psychiatrist; he has no need for such things," Anastasia Grigorievna instructed.

"Absurd! So reading philosophy and becoming enlightened is harmful, while growing dull with newspapers and television is perfectly normal? What manner of people are you?" thought Kostya, though he had no particular intention of objecting aloud. He had no need to initiate pointless disputes at this moment, especially not with a psychiatrist.

"I shall confiscate these books for now; I will return them later. Perhaps I shall read them myself," Anastasia Grigorievna continued. "You must understand, one cannot fixate on a single thing, especially on something written thousands of years ago. Henry quotes the words of Socrates: 'I know that I know nothing,' but Socrates at that time truly knew nothing."

"Oh yes... and we here are all so learned in matters of good and evil, or the creation of the world. Why, we cannot even determine the criteria of normality, as it turns out." Kostya continued mentally disputing the psychiatrist's words. "Yes, perhaps," he said uncertainly, drawing out the words. "And when, in your estimation, will Henry be able to leave?"

"As soon as he improves. Another week, perhaps a bit longer. He shall not be bored here; we have our own philosopher, what is his name? Gusev Augustinovich, I believe," the doctor informed Kostya, unwittingly speaking his own surname. Upon hearing these words, Kostya wanted to laugh, but after an imperceptible pause, he collected himself. "Actually, I am sitting right before you," he thought, casually glancing around at those present. "No... there seems to be no one here who would recognize me. That was in a different ward." This oversight by the psychiatrist not only amused Kostya but also emboldened him; he resolved to insert a note of protest after all.

"You know, to speak frankly, the criteria of normality for a supposedly normal person are rather nebulous. I would venture to suggest that these criteria are determined, by and large, by public opinion," Konstantin began to philosophize.

"Why do you say that? One might consider, for example, the logic of one's actions as a criterion of normality," the doctor replied, noticeably intrigued by the conversation.

"The logic of one's actions is also a rather shaky definition of normality. People under the influence of strong feelings and emotions, especially such as passion or love, very rarely act logically. I know this well. Moreover, many actions that appear to lack logic in fact possess it. Shakespeare said: 'Though this be madness, yet there is method in't,'" Konstantin was noticeably beginning to overreach.

"It would do you some good as well to rest from books for a while. In reality, we can always distinguish pathology from a normal mental state," the psychiatrist concluded the dispute.

"Precisely! One can detect only psychophysical deviations—when there are manifest pathologies in brain function—but all the rest is merely human prejudice," Kostya reasoned, though he no longer spoke aloud. "Closer to the matter at hand," he thought, and asked, "You must have many interesting people here?"

"Yes, all sorts. Sometimes even scientists end up here. I recall one doctor of physical and mathematical sciences who kept speaking of some society," Anastasia Grigorievna remembered.

"And what was his diagnosis? It is interesting—how do such people live afterward?"

"He was initially admitted here in an extremely poor condition. At first we thought to diagnose him with schizophrenia, but then he calmed down. We discharged him with a diagnosis of nervous breakdown and acute personality disorder. Excessive mental labor was to blame for it all. He was an interesting man, and after our hospital he decided to enter a monastery, somewhere in the village of Dubrava, I believe," the psychiatrist spoke almost in one breath. "But why do you ask?"

"Simply out of curiosity. Henry too has told me many interesting things about such people," Kostya concealed his true motives. "And what was his name?"

"Whose? Ah, this doctor—Vasily Gavrish. I remember nearly all my patients," Anastasia Grigorievna boasted.