'Tonight.'
`Ahhhh,' I said, like a doctor being given an especially interesting set of symptoms.
`Tonight at 8 P.M.'
`Not eight fifteen?'
`You will charter a bus to take a group of patients to see Hair in Manhattan. The bus will arrive at 7.45 P.M. You will
come in and lead us out.'
`Why do you want to see Hair?'
His dark eyes darted at me briefly, then back to chaos beyond my shoulder.
`We're not going to see Hair. We're escaping,' he went on quietly. `You'll let us all off on the other side of the bridge.'
`But no one can leave the hospital like that without a written order signed by Dr. Mann or one of the other directors of
the hospital.'
'You will forge the order. If a doctor gives it to the nurse in charge no one will suspect a forgery.'
`After you're free, what happens to me?'
He looked across at me calmly and with utter conviction said `That is not important. You are a vehicle.'
`I am a vehicle,' I said.
We looked at each other.
`A bus, to be exact,' I added.
`You are a vehicle, you will be saved.'
'That's a relief to know.'
We stared at each other.
`Why should I do this?' I finally asked. The noise around us was terrific and we had unconsciously brought our heads
closer and closer to each other until they were separated now by only six inches. For the first time a hint of a smile
crossed his lips.
'Because the die will tell you to,' he answered softly.
`Ahhh,' I said, like a doctor who has finally found the symptom which makes the whole syndrome come together. 'The
Die will tell me to '
`You will consult it now,' he said.
`I will consult it now.'
I reached into my suit-coat pocket and pulled out two green dice.
`As I may have already explained to you, I control the options and their probability.'
'It makes no difference,' Eric said.
`But I don't think much of the option to lead you in-such an escape.'
'It makes no difference,' he said, his slight smile returning.
`How many am I supposed to take to Hair with you?'
`Thirty-seven,' he said quietly.
I believe my mouth fell open.
`I, Dr. Lucius M. Rhinehart, am going to lead thirty-seven patients in the largest and most sensational mental-hospital
escape in American history tonight at eight?'
'Thirty-eight,' he said.
'Ah, thirty-eight,' I said. We probed into each other's eyes at six-inch range, and he seemed utterly without the slightest
doubt about the outcome of events.'
`Sorry,' I said, feeling angry. 'This is the, best I can do.'
I thought for several seconds and then went on: `I'm going to cast one die. If it's a two or a six I'll try to help you and
thirty-seven others escape somehow from this hospital sometime tonight.'
He didn't reply. `All right?'
'Go ahead and shake a six,' he said quietly. I stared back at him for a moment and then cupped my hands, shook the
die hard against my palms and flipped it onto the table between my empty milk carton and two lumps of tuna salad
and the salt. It was a two.
`Ha!' I said instinctively.
`Bring us some money too,' he said, leaning back slightly but without expression. `About a hundred bucks should do.'
He pushed back his chair and stood up and looked down at me with a bright smile.
`God works in mysterious way,' he said.
I looked back at him and for the first time realized that I too wanted not my will but the Die's will to be done.
`Yes,' I said. `The vehicles of God come in many shapes and-'
`See you tonight,' he said and edged his way out of the cafeteria.
Actually I wouldn't mind seeing Hair again, I thought, and then, smiling in dazed awe at the day I had before me, I set
to work planning the Great Mental Hospital Escape.
Chapter Fifty-three
`You're cured,' Jake said. `If I do say so myself.'
`I'm not sure, Jake.'
I said. We were in his office that afternoon and he was trying to tell me that this would be our last analytic session
together.
`Your interest in dice therapy has given you a rational base upon which to work with the dice. Before, you were using
the dice to escape your responsibilities. Now they have become your responsibility.'
`That's very acute, I must admit. But how do we know the Die won't flip me off in some new direction?'
`Because you've got a purpose now. A goal. You control the options, right?'
'True.'
`You think dice therapy's hot stuff, right?'
'Sometimes.'
`You aren't going to risk the advance of dice therapy for another roll in the hay with some dumb broad. You're not.
You know now what you want.'
`A smart broad?'
`The advance of dice therapy. The advance of dice therapy. It gives your life precisely that foundation which it's been
lacking since you rejected your father in the form of Freud and Dr. Mann and began this random rebellion.'
`But a good dice therapist must lead a random life.'
`But he's got to meet the patient regularly. He's got to show up ' `Mmmmm.'
`He's got to listen. He's got to teach.'
`Hmmm.'
