you, how it’s very necessary for all of us to behave with concern to others, trying to help, but … you know, mister judge, I believe that this is just not the case. I tried to, I would really like to be humane and capable to tell something considerable and important in the justification of my defendant, but … I have no words to make that today. I … do not see sufficient reasons for the accused to be somehow pardoned or justified. As well as the prosecution I consider his isolation from society a necessity – for as long as possible. I have had my say.
- Well … I thank you. You can take a seat. How do you believe, accuser, is there is a reason to ask opinion of the accused one ?
- I … do not believe that opinion of a madman can have any sense at all, mister judge.
- In that case the court leaves for decision-making.
- Everybody, stand up ! Thanks. Now please sit down. Based on the indications of defense and prosecution and having taken into consideration opinion of jurymen, the court has decided : to recognize accused one as deranged and, as a consequence, incapacitated and to imprison him in a psychiatric hospital for a term of at least one year with possibility of its further prolongation, according to the independent medical expertise. This sentence is definitive and is not subject to appeal. Please escort the accused one to a place of his future settlement immediately. And may the God help him !
They laughed loudly and mocked him. They spat in his face. They frankly exulted.
- So, have they caught you, Napoleon-of-all-the-Russia ?
- Place him in the six chamber !
- The author burns ! The chamber waits !
- You’ve been caught, the sentence’s terse … what a funny, such cool verse !
The first aid brigade has put an immobilizing white shirt on a person and dragged him through all area up to a car, parked nearby and howling with all voices of the underworld. The person did not resist – for now it was unnecessary.
The crowd shouted and aspired to snatch on the newly made prisoner, and separate group of agents of national security, accompanying physicians, had to push aside those too quick.
The man was needed for a regime alive. A living sign of its victory over own conscience and honour.
Still recently solar sky suddenly began to become covered by clouds. They crept and crept one after another from the horizon, covering each other and quickly closing a firmament. After a ten-fifteen minutes time span the sky has become almost completely black. Soon the first lightning sparkled and rain began to drum on a roadway with its large juicy drops.
The storm was almost ready to be born.
The sky conducted its own sentence to each and every living one.
To the People of Now
And all diseases will be gone
I stopped. I stopped when have noticed a picture, totally breaking all conceivable and inconceivable laws of human logic. It wasn’t simply strange … it was … somewhat ridiculous … amazing.
For a couple of years already I have been a regular visitor of this establishment, was there on a two-three month basis, I got used to behold yellow walls with shelled and falling off plaster, constantly sad faces of its people … used to see queues of older persons all with lowered heads and sad expressions on them, used to observe how some of them not without the help from other colleagues have been forced to wait in longest many-hours queues in order to receive a priceless ticket, granting one the right to learn one’s fate - for even they, these people, tried to appear here as seldom as ever possible, tried not to be at all.
I had to come here time and again - my current condition didn’t allow to me to do anything different. I had to stand in queues among same brothers-by-misfortune, to listen to silently-cold voices of doctors, ascertaining deterioration of your disease and constantly diligently drawing something on your out-patient card, without troubling themselves with any comments on that subject, though.
I got accustomed to this place, despite all its absurd. I could do no other. I cared no longer of what my doctors would tell me - my own sentence I have known for quite a while already and for a long time have reconciled to it. Different thoughts occupied my mind - I thirsted to know why these men so diligently avoided to look you in the face while reading your diagnosis, leaving you no options of survival - not in this life at least, not during ten incoming years. I was truly curios why they, snow-white like a funeral shroud in this house of grief, only multiplied this grief with their indifferent faces, cold voices …
Was a monthly ascertaining of the absence of any positive changes in my illness really desired by me? Whether I really needed those endless inspections, required by no one, even myself? No. Not for this I thirsted. I thirsted for words - a kind word of participation and understanding. I desired to hear words of support from them - just to know that some other can share your pain … simply to be aware of that. I wanted to behold a shine of joy - a joy of life - even in someone’s eyes, once in many months … But, obviously, I desired too much … too much in this life - and hopes of mine could never come true.
Probably for that particular reason now I have stopped, being amazed with what I have seen. I would, certainly, not able to say anything meaningful first tens of seconds, if some casual passer-by has suddenly decided to inquire why was I standing with my mouth widely opened, hardly incorporating cold winter air. There were no such ones - and that’s probably for the better.
That house of grief which I got used to observe for those almost two years, which I knew practically thoroughly, - it was no more both inside and outside. A sad inscription, engraved by dark gray letters “City hospital № 17” was gone, as well as lattices on windows and always-rude security guard, wiggling from constant sleep debt. Instead of an inscription there was a bright … a signboard of sorts … have no idea how to name it, where new words were imprinted: “Town house of healing. We are happy to wish you a good health!” Lattices on windows disappeared as well, and there was a shining light, coming from windows … and when I have habitually risen up by stairs, I was greeted by an elegantly-dressed young man, who said something like “Come in, please. May you be always in good health!” and magnanimously opened me a door.
Shortly after that I had to come to my senses for at least ten minutes in an entrance hall. And this hall itself changed as well. No more there were decayed walls and tiny cloakroom with eternally snapping and rude woman of thirty five years. There was a sort of large parquet hall instead - walls changed their color to grass-greenish, and instead of a cloakroom attendant Masha there was a smiling woman of thirty years, who, when I have approached her, also welcomed me, kindly helped to take off my coat, and, having given me a label, once more wished me good health.
To tell the truth, I didn’t expect all that. I got so much accustomed to former “yellow house”, and to see it totally changed was truly surprising for me. Even more intriguing were new people - attentive and, I shall not be afraid of this word, really sympathizing.
When I have climbed a new beautiful twisted ladder on a second floor, my eyes surprised me one more time. Narrow, constantly badly lightened corridors and men, crowding in them, were gone, as well as sad-yellow walls and endlessly-long line of doors with diverse and hard-to-understand names of specializations of these doctors - instead there were wide, brightly lighted and spacious corridors with some sort of bluish-white (and, as it seemed
