Arkady Strugatsky: Prisoners of Power

"In my opinion this man is a clever spy and we should report this to the brigadier."

The captain ignored him.

"You may go now, Zef," he said. "You've done a good job and it will be taken into account."

"I'm very grateful to you, captain!" Zef was about to leave when the prisoner uttered a low cry, leaned over the counter, and grabbed a pile of blank forms lying on the desk.

Frightened out of his wits, Varibobu recoiled and flung his pen at the savage. The savage snatched it out of the air and, perching himself on the counter, began to sketch on the paper. Guy and Zef grabbed him by the shoulder, but he shrugged them off.

"Leave him alone!" ordered the captain, and Guy obeyed with a sense of relief. Restraining this brown beast would be as difficult as stopping a tank by grabbing its treads.

The captain and Zef flanked the prisoner and studied his scribbling.

"I think it's a map of the world," said Zef uncertainly.

"H'm," responded the captain.

"Well, of course! Here in the center he has the World Light. Around it is the World. And here is where he thinks we are."

Guy finally managed to squeeze between the prisoner's firm shoulder and Zefs coarse, sweaty jacket. The sketch amused him. That was how a six-year-old would portray the World: a small circle representing the World Light, and around it a large circle representing the World Sphere. And on the circle a duck dot, to which need only be added little hands and feet – and then you have it: "Ibis is the World and this is me." The poor lunatic couldn't even draw the circle properly, making some sort of oval shape. It was obvious that he was abnormal. On top of that, he drew a dotted line going beneath the World to another point, as if he were trying to explain how he got where he now was.

Meanwhile the prisoner took a second form and rapidly sketched two small World Spheres in opposite comers, joined them with a dotted line, and added some flourishes. Zef let out a whistle: it was a hopeless case. There was no point in staying any longer.

"May I leave, sir?"

The captain shook his head.

"Uh, Zef, you were working in the Zone?"

"Yes, sir."

The captain paced up and down.

"Perhaps you could – how shall I put it – give me your opinion of this man? From, let's say, a professional point of view."

"Impossible, sir," replied Zef. "You know I've lost the right to speak in a professional capacity."

"I understand. That's all very true. And I must compliment you for your honesty. But…"

Zef stood at attention. The captain was clearly embarrassed, and Guy understood his predicament well. This was a serious case. (Suppose the savage is a spy?) Dr. Zogu was certainly a great officer, a brilliant legionnaire, but still he was only an army doctor. Zef, on the other hand, had really known his stuff before he was arrested.

"Well now," said the captain, "there's nothing we can do about that. But between you and me… "He halted in front of Zef. "You understand what I mean? Simply between you and me, do you really think this fellow is insane?"

Zef paused before replying.

"Just between you and me?" he repeated. "Well, of course, as a layman, and laymen do make mistakes. I'm inclined to believe that this is a clear-cut case of a split personality, where the real ego is ejected and replaced by an imagined ego. Purely as a layman, mind you, I would recommend electric shock therapy and tranquilizers."

Mac Sim began to speak again, addressing the captain and Zef alternately. The poor fellow was trying to say something – some-thing was bothering him. But just then the door opened and the doctor, obviously out of sorts because his dinner had been interrupted, entered the room.

"Hello, Tolot," he said cantankerously. "What's the matter? I'm quite relieved to find you alive and well. Who the hell is this?"

"The rehabs caught him in the forest. I suspect he's insane."

"He's not insane. He's a malingerer," growled the doctor, pouring water for himself from a pitcher. "Send him back to the forest. Let him work."

"He's not ours," protested the captain. "And we don't know where he came from. I think he may have been captured by degens, gone off his head, and escaped to us."

"Right," grumbled the doctor. "You'd have to go off your rocker to come running to us." He went over to the prisoner and reached out to examine his face. The prisoner grinned and gently pushed him away. "No, no!" said the doctor. "Stand still!"

The prisoner submitted. The doctor examined his eyes, thumped him, felt his neck and throat, flexed his hand, tapped his knees, and then returned to the pitcher and poured himself another glass of water.

"Heartburn," he explained.

Guy looked at Zef, who was standing off to one side and staring at the wall with studied indifference. The doctor quenched his thirst and returned to the examination. He palpated the prisoner, looked at his teeth, punched him in the abdomen twice; then he took a flat box from his pocket, plugged it into a socket, and applied the box to various parts of the savage's body.

"Nothing special," he said. "Is he a mute, too?"

"No," replied the captain. "He can talk, but he speaks in some savage language. He doesn't understand us. Here are his drawings."

The doctor studied them.

"Well, well, very amusing." He grabbed the corporal's pen and rapidly sketched a cat as a child might, using stick lines and small circles. "What do you say to that, friend?" he asked, handing the drawing to the lunatic.

Without a moment's hesitation, Mac Sim took the pen and began to draw. Beside the doctor's cat he sketched a strange animal covered with a great deal of hair and wearing a hostile expression. Although this animal was unfamiliar to Guy, he realized it was not a child's drawing. It was a fine drawing – in fact, remarkably good. Even a little frightening to look at. The doctor reached for the pen, but the lunatic drew back his hand and sketched still another animal – with enormous ears, wrinkled skin, and, in place of a nose, something resembling a very long tail.

"Beautiful!" shouted the doctor, slapping his sides.

The lunatic didn't stop there. Now, instead of animals, he sketched some sort of apparatus that resembled a large transparent land mine. Then he very skillfully drew a little man sitting inside. He tapped the tiny figure with his finger and then tapped himself on the chest, saying: "Mac Sim."

"He could have seen this thing by the river," said Zef softly as he moved closer. "We burned a similar object last night. A real monster." He shook his head.

The doctor appeared to notice Zef for the first time.

"Ah, my dear professor!" he shouted with exaggerated pleasure. "Something stinks in this room. My dear colleague, be so kind as to deliver your profound judgments from the other side of the room. I shall be greatly indebted to you."

Varibobu snickered and the captain said sternly: "Zef, stand by the door, and don't forget yourself."

"Well, that's better," said the doctor. "Tolot, what do you think we should do with him?"

"That depends on your diagnosis. If he's a malingerer, I'll hand him over to the state prosecutor's office. They'll look into it. If he's insane…"

"Tolot, he's not a malingerer!" The doctor was adamant. "The office of the state prosecutor is not the place for him. But I do know a place that will be very interested in him. Where's the brigadier?"

"He's on patrol in the forest."

"Well, no matter. You're the duty officer today, aren't you? Send this young stranger to this address." The doctor wrote something on the back of the last sketch.

"What's that?" asked the captain.

"Oh, it's a place that will be very grateful to us for this lunatic. I can promise you that."

The captain twisted the paper in his fingers hesitantly, then went to the far corner of the room and beckoned to the doctor. They whispered for some time and only an occasional remark of Zogu's was audible. "The Propaganda Department… Send him with an escort. It's not that much of a secret! I guarantee you… Order him to forget the whole thing. Damn it – the kid won't understand a thing anyway!"