Virus in the helix, p.1
Virus in the Helix, page 1
Virus in the Helix
By Kevin Dwyer
Copyright Kevin Dwyer 2013
All Rights Reserved
Cover image “Bobo the Clown” by Kd.
Table of Contents
Virus in the Helix
The human delusion is a fusion of insanity and desire feeding a soul so corrupt in its entirety the mind cannot see it.
This could be thought of as Sexual Psychosis.
The voices of the children rang out in loose harmony “Jack does crack in a silly hat” as the young doctor walked by on his way home. Tired and worn out from not seeing his bed from the day before he was quite oblivious to their nonsense. He could ponder that someday they would be under his care yet the past 14 hours had taught him their rudimentary mutterings barely touched on the insanity he had just witnessed, insanity being something of a solitary occupation it seems. On this cold but beautiful sunny blue morning it had been Dr Jack Hill’s responsibility to see Patient 4192.
The numbers of patients being admitted nationwide had ballooned from what was first thought to be Alzheimer’s or plain dementia in the old folks to encompass nearly a third of the overall population. People had never been right and that is hard to dispute, war, murder, rape and violence being the history of mankind, often under the guise some lame attempt at romanticism, “oh wasn’t it good in the old days” or “our boys fought so bravely in the war”.
4192 wasn’t a number as such, it was simply a coding. John O’Connor had long since forgotten his own name anyway. He came from Area Four and on a relative scale of craziness he was a nine out of ten. Patients that were a ten no longer required coding. He was under the care of Professor Hauser. As Jack had thumbed through his notes, 4192 was dropped into a chair opposite by two nursing staff. The dull green and grey plastic edged table between them was bolted to the floor. The patients chair was bolted to the floor. The doctor sat in an old smokers bow with a fake plastic leather seat as his patient glared at him or everywhere or nowhere.
Jack was new at the asylum and it was his first posting. He’d been recommended for the job by his senior college lecturer who apparently had more clout than Jack would have perceived. After one brief interview the job was his. He didn’t understand that either. Psychologists were ten a penny and there was no great shortage of quacks either. Yet here he was in a renowned department, albeit on a salary that left him residing in perhaps not the best part of town. With all the enthusiasm of youth and the world at his feet Jack said “good morning, how are you today”. John O’Connor said “I’m Bobo the Clown”. The end of his shift turned out to be anything but entertaining.
However, he’d shrug it off and this was the real reason he’d been given the job. It seemed people either had the disease or they didn’t and Jack didn’t. It stood out a mile to his college tutors and likewise the hospital board. He was the golden boy in the making. Before falling asleep he wondered if he’d like a dog and if so what kind of dog, he liked huskies. The sort of thing a young single man might wonder I suppose.
Emptiness is a term not unfamiliar to the esoteric practitioner though it can also mean grief and the two different feelings do show similarities. Should one seek or even continue to seek something from within the space of emptiness it bears all the trademarks of a kind of insanity. Emptiness is also the core requisite for any student to be taught by a master. Is it so therefore, that the master is trying to teach emptiness and any particular subject just a tool to that end? Simplicity is all that resides within emptiness. And so it is also the mark of the master to make that which seems complex or impossible, rendered simple? Simplicity then could be seen as the flame that burns within the centre of the lamp of emptiness.
Julia Krish was unceremoniously thrown into the back of the community health service secure transport and one may wonder what this reality felt like for her. It was in the style of a prison van and with riveted windows where the passengers could bang and push their faces up against as they were carted off. As fate would have it, she was to be the first of the new patients for the Insanidal. The Professor, fed up with explaining the coding system to all and sundry decided to just number the patients. As it stood he was uneasy enough about this trial. If it worked out Vision would take the credit, if it failed his reputation was at stake so he shifted the ground. His name would not appear on any of paperwork except in general terms and it would be referred to as the Vision Clinical Trial. The new system was put in place.
Within the next hours Julia Krish became Patient 0000, she would be weighed, blood tested and processed. Her long black hair would be shorn and for all intents and purposes this was a one way trip. It was hard to determine her race. Her hair as if Arabic, her face as fair as any heroine in English literature and yet her name an anglicised eastern European or even Russian. In his deep slumbers Jack would dream of her that night and when he came to meet her would dream she was of gypsie stock from the caravans that crossed the vast snow ridden Russian landscape in a world where time never even existed. And maybe she did.
Sexual Psychosis wasn’t considered a disease that could be given a name, perhaps in the name of its discoverer, ceremoniously remembered for his or her contribution to the wealth of academic medical knowledge. No, Sexual Psychosis was a plague and no doctor was ever so bold as to have claimed to discovered the Black Death. Likewise, as an illness it was more feared than researched with the usual enthusiasm of the medical establishment, with perhaps hopes of glory and more importantly larger pay checks from the drug companies.
The spirits that took over the minds and bodies of their victims appeared to present themselves as though they were doing both the patient and the world in general the biggest possible favour. The formal psychiatric approach was not to engage with the spirits, not necessarily from any moral high ground but simply that those that did ended up spending way to many hours staring at a digestive biscuit or such. So the treatment was really just one of containing a problem and trying to do the best with the circumstances.
The possessing spirits, far from the benevolence that they eschewed as their prime motivation, in fact ate the souls of their victims. Souls here not some deep inner religious essence but a quasi-material or physical manifestation of a person’s cumulative experiences which a pure Buddhist would call a Self. From a scientific perspective, it was a kind of gooey substance. Perhaps the spirits were right, they were doing everyone a favour by consuming it, though it would seem that they were the only ones that held that view and it also managed to sync quite well with their appetite.
Freud and Jung had laid down the foundations for the psychology and psychiatric professions nearly a hundred years since and yet now their theories did not appear so contradictory. It would be our Jack, failing to notice the differences that had been the subject of so many discussions, would come to see that both Freud’s position of it being all sex and Jung’s that it must be spiritual, were actually manifesting as one and the same. It has to be said though, that this is a very long timeline, going at least all the way back to ancient Greece with the story of the Iliad relaying messed up sexual hegemony. The warning signs seen by Freud were an early indication but the changes that took place during the 1960’s turned thousands of years of just plain average bad history into an absolute time bomb.
The spirits that ate the souls, would consume until there was nothing left to eat. Those that suffered worst were those who had been utterly consumed in their own desire and sometime
There were exceptions to this rule other than those that escaped and 1492 was one of them. Professor Hauser’s medicine was a research stage in the process and many hospitals had no such department. Most often, once a patient was recoded from an outpatient to an inpatient, the time lapse until termination may have been lengthy but this was only due to numbers and procedures rather than any course of treatment. For Jack, to work under the professor, was a rare opportunity, an opportunity certainly not afforded to many for the professor was published worldwide. He was funded generously by global corporations and the leading authority on a problem that none had a solution for. One may at this time consider that Patient 1492 really was Bobo the Clown.
Following a similarly of calm and tranquil day but out in the leafy countryside
by Kevin Dwyer / Crime / True Crime / Nonfiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on16 votes