'It's true.'
Annoyed now, but under control: 'Is that another of those 'beliefs' that passes for truth with your species?'
It had been a long shot, and it had missed. There was no way to prove the contention and no point in wasting any more time. When he had finished his snack I asked if he was ready to be hypnotized again. He nodded suspiciously, but by the time I had counted to three he was already 'gone.'
I began: 'Last time you told me about your Earth friend, beginning with his father's death. Do you remember?'
'Yes.' Prot was trance anamnestic - he could remember previous hypnotic sessions, but only while in the hypnotic state.
'Good. Now I want you to think back once again, but not so far back as last time. You and your friend are high school seniors. Twelfth-graders. What do you see?'
At this point prot slouched down in his chair, fiddled with his nails, and began to chew on an imaginary piece of gum. 'I was never a high school senior,' he said. 'I never went to school'
'Why not?'
'We don't have schools on K-PAX.'
'What about your friend? Does he go to school?'
'Yes, he does, the dope. I couldn't talk him out of it.'
'Why would you want to talk him out of it?'
'Are you kidding? Schools are a total waste of time.
They try to teach you a bunch of crap.'
'Like what?'
'Like how great america is, better than any other country, how you have to have wars to protect your 'freedoms,' all kinds of junk like that.'
'Does your friend feel the same way you do about that?'
'Nah. He believes all that garbage. They all do.'
'Is your friend there with you now?'
'Yes.'
'Can he hear us?'
'Of course. He's right here.'
'May I speak with him?'
Again the momentary hesitation. 'He doesn't want to.'
'If he changes his mind, will you let me know?'
'I guess.'
'Will he tell me his name, at least?'
'No way.'
'Well, we have to call him something. How about Pete?'
'That's not his name, but okay.'
'All right. Is he a senior now?'
Yep.
'What year is it?'
'Nineteen seventy-four.'
'How old are you?'
'A hunnert and seventy-three.'
'And how old is Pete?'
'Seventeen.'
'Does he know you come from K-PAX?'
'Yes. '
'How does he know that?'
'I told him.'
'What was his reaction to that?'
'He thinks it's cool.'
'Incidentally, how did you learn to speak English so well? Did he teach you?'
'Nah. It's not very difficult. You should try speaking w:xljgzs/k..mns'pt. '
'Where did you land when you came to Earth?'
'You mean this trip?'
'Yes.'
'China.'
'Not Zaire?'
'Why should I land in zaire when china was pointing toward K-PAX?'
'Do you have any other Earth friends? Is there anyone else there with you?'
'Nobody here but us chickens.'
'How many chickens are you?'
'Just me and him.'
'Tell me more about Pete. What's he like?'
'What's he like? He's all right. Kinda quiet. Keeps to himself. He's not as smart as I am, but that doesn't matter on EARTH.'
'No? And what does matter?'
'All that matters is that you're a 'nice guy,' and not too bad looking.'
'And is he?'
'I suppose.'
'Can you describe him?'
'Yes.'
'Please do.'
'He's beginning to wear his hair long. He has brown eyes, medium complexion, and twenty-eight pimples, which he puts clearasil on all the time.'
'Are his eyes sensitive to bright light?'
'Not particularly. Why should they be?'
'What makes him a nice guy?'
'He smiles a lot, he helps the dumber kids with their assignments, he volunteers to set up the bleachers for the home games, stuff like that. He's vice-president of the class. Everybody likes him.'
'You sound as though you're not so sure they should.'
'I know him better than anybody else.'
'And you think he's not as nice as everybody thinks.'
'He's not as nice as he makes out.'
'In what way?'
'He has a temper. It gets out of hand sometimes.'
'What happens when it gets out of hand?'
'He gets mad. Throws things around, kicks inanimate objects.'
'What makes him mad?'
'Things that seem unfair, that he can't do anything about. You know.'
I was pretty sure I did know. It had something to do with the helplessness and anger he felt at the time of his father's death. 'Can you give me an example?'
'One time he found a kid beating up on a smaller kid. The older guy was a big redheaded bully and everybody hated him. He had broken the other kid's glasses, and his nose, too, I think. My friend beat the shit out of him. I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen.'
'What happened then? Was the bully badly hurt? Did he try to get even later on?'
'He lost a couple teeth is all. He was mostly afraid my friend would tell everybody what happened. When he didn't, and asked the little kid not to either, they became the best of buddies. All three of them.'
