Рэймонд Джоунс - The school

“Paranoid, I believe you call an attitude like that, don’t you?” said Montgomery, his face expressionless. “A persecution complex —”

“Please —” Spindem’s face looked pained. “I am not here for the purpose of personal diagnosis, major. My only interest is in the effects of this Mirror.”

“I’m sorry,” said Montgomery. “Your question permits of no simple answer. Mr. Carling was utterly incapable of teaching mathematics in any way that would not make it completely repulsive. The subject held no fascination for him, and it was inconceivable that it should for anyone else.

“The principal was aware of Carling’s work, but he didn’t know there was anything wrong with it, either. The School Board knew the principal’s feelings and attitude and considered him a fine man for the job. Everyone knew - but nobody believed anything needed to be done about the situation. And Carling went on turning out his scores of pupils, year after year, who hated mathematics with an almost personal bitterness.”

“That is hardly to say that all this was deliberate and purposeful, even if completely true,” said Spindem.

“I thought psychiatry was the first to deny that any accident exists in human performance,” said Montgomery. “Your teachings are that when an effect is produced by human beings it was the intention of those persons to produce that exact effect. You are familiar with the individual subconscious, but there is a group subconscious, as well. No one would ever admit it was the purpose of my school to produce haters of mathematics. I say it was the purpose — the unstated, subconscious purpose of the entire group involved.”

Spindem made no comment. His lips pressed together in a thinner line as his eyes scanned Montgomery’s face intently.

“And the Mirror told you this?” he said finally.

“I was able to determine it for myself, after the Mirror minimized the fear of recognizing this fact.”

“And why should there be any fear in recognizing it — if it were true?”

“Because of the unevenness of the contest: me against the whole educational system.”

“Or the educational system and society against you?” said Spindem with lifted eyebrows.

“Either way you want it,” said Montgomery.

“And is there anything else you have determined from looking into this Mirror?”

“Yes. I found out why I didn’t have more courage and gumption to stand on my hind legs and protest people like Carling and his kind. There are other people who have made more of a stand than I have, as is obvious to you. But I simply knuckled under.”

“Why?”

Montgomery told then of his long experience with the Mirror that day, the sensation of death and an enemy with whom he compromised to save his life. Spindem listened with interest.

“Have you dreamed previously in this same manner?” he asked as the major finished.

“It was no dream,” said Montgomery. “I was wide-awake.”

“Of course. In the case of this afternoon’s experience — but I would think the same symbolism had probably occurred frequently in dreams during your lifetime. Unless it were induced wholly by the Mirror.”

“It was not induced by the machine, and it was not symbolism,” said Montgomery. “I can tell you exactly what it was.”

“Please do.”

“I wasn’t quite sure of myself even after a whole day with this experience,” said Montgomery slowly. “I spent a couple of hours afterwards brushing up on my psychoanalysis a bit, to see if it was creditable in terms of your field.

“I find your authorities agreeing almost universally that the psyche of the individual has an unknown beginning and a long history antedating the event of its physical birth. My experience with the Mirror confirms it. I was a living, responsive entity at the time my mother’s organism tried to destroy me. The event I spoke of was a threatened miscarriage. Through the endocrine flow that passed between us I recognized that I was being killed. Poisons were beginning to circulate within me and essential elements withheld.

“There was the impression that the maternal body was too weak to support me. My growth demands were too great, and the only way it could survive was by destroying me. And then, on a biochemical level, I made a bargain. My organism agreed with the mother organism to accept less, to limit my demands for sustenance in exchange for the right to live. The bargain was made and kept.

“That was my first major piece of education. I learned that in order to live I must limit myself, always take less than I need, diminish myself to the subsistence level in every way. That was a pattern I have maintained throughout my life. I have never dared create — to do so meant death. I learned that long ago as a fetus, and the lesson remained until today.”

Dr. Spindem took a deep breath. “Major, you leave me no doubt about the absolute danger of this Institute. You are treading in the most dangerous areas of human experience. Of course we admit that the human psyche does not come into existence at birth. But it is utterly impossible for you to know that the things you have described ever took place. Even admitting that these fantasies are your own and not the induction of this machine, it is mental suicide to attempt your own interpretation. Only a skilled and experienced professional mind could possibly provide you with a proper understanding of them.”

“In the Forties,” said Montgomery, “one of your own people, the Hungarian psychoanalyst, N. Fodor, showed a practical method of reaching the pre-birth unconscious and de-educating the individual in the lessons learned there which are no longer applicable to post-birth life. You cannot deny the validity of it. The Mirror is simply an extension and improvement over Dr. Fodor’s findings. Tomorrow I shall prove it to you.”

“How?” Spindem demanded.

“Tomorrow I shall create something for the first time in my life. I shall create an airfoil which will revolutionize high-altitude flight.”

Dr. Spindem stood up. “It is obvious, Major Montgomery, that you have endured a terrible ordeal at the hands of these people who operate this pseudo-analytic device they call the Mirror. It is my professional duty to recommend to your superior, Colonel Dodge, that you be withdrawn from the project immediately. Adequate evidence already exists to force the closing of the Institute. It is morally impossible to allow you to risk your mind further.

“For yourself, I must recommend immediate therapy. In order to minimize the danger of delay I would suggest we arrange for tomorrow morning the first of a series of electroshock treatments for you. If treatment is begun at once, the effects of this terrible experience should begin to disappear within five or six weeks.”

“Not tomorrow,” said Montgomery. “I have to design an airfoil. Perhaps in a day or two after that.”

He gave the white-faced Spindem an hour to call Colonel Dodge. Then he placed his own call. At Dodge’s first word he knew he had guessed correctly. Spindem had said his piece and Dodge was most sympathetic and solicitous.

“My dear major,” the colonel said. “I was just about to call you. I want to offer my congratulations and my sincere thanks for the job you have done for us. It’s as much as any man could be expected to perform in line of duty and I’m —”

“So Spindem called and told you I was nuts, huh?”

“What’s that, major? Oh, yes I did hear from Dr. Spindem this evening. He said —”

“Colonel Dodge, I want you to come out and see this thing for yourself. If I’m crazy — all right, I’m willing to gamble my sanity for what I’ve seen out here. This isn’t a fake, colonel, or a scheme of sabotage, or anything of the sort. If you think it is, after making a personal inspection, I’ll let Spindem fry my brains in an electric toaster for as long as he wants to. But I ask you to come and make your own decision before taking any further action against the Institute.”