K-Pax Omnibus Page 19

  I was puzzled at first by the question: Given his intolerable situation, why didn’t Robert move with his pregnant wife to another part of the state or country, both for work and to escape the local bigotry? It was Giselle, a small-town girl herself, who reminded me that young people all over America, trapped by family ties and economic need, accept jobs they abhor and stay put for the rest of their lives, benumbing themselves on their off hours with beer and sports and soap operas.

  But, despite this dreary prospect, it is possible that without the terrible events of August sixteenth through seventeenth, 1985, Robert and his wife and daughter might have enjoyed a reasonably happy life together. They certainly maintained strong family ties, both with one another and with their respective kin. But something did happen that day, something so devastating as to deal the final blow to Robert’s psyche. He called on his alter ego one last time to help him deal with that unspeakable horror.

  But this time prot was unable to heal the wounds, at least not anywhere on Earth, where rape and murder are of no more consequence than last night’s television shows. In prot’s mind the only place where one could deny such horrible crimes was the imaginary world he had created, where violence and death are not a way of life. A beautiful planet called K-PAX, where life is virtually free of pain and sorrow.

  He spent the next five years trying to convince Robert to go there with him. Instead, devastated by grief and guilt, he retreated farther and farther into his own inner world, where even prot could not follow.

  Why prot chose to “return” after exactly that period of time is unclear, particularly in view of the fact that his earlier visits were of much shorter duration. He may have realized that it would take considerable time to convince Robert to accompany him on his return, discovering finally that even the allotted five years wouldn’t be enough. In any case prot did, indeed, depart this Earth (for all practical purposes) at the appointed time, and Robert is still with us in Ward 3B.

  The staff and patients bring him fruit every day, and recently I brought in a Dalmatian puppy, who never leaves his side except to go outside, all of which he ignores. Hoping to stimulate his curiosity I tell him about all the new patients who have arrived over the past few years, including a brand-new Jesus Christ, whom Russell welcomed to Ward Two with, “I was you, once.” Upon arrival all of them are told “the legend of K-PAX,” which, along with the gossamer thread, brings smiles and hope and makes our job a little easier.

  I also keep Robert up to date on the activities of Ernie and Howie, both of whom have been released and are leading highly productive lives, Ernie as a city-employed counselor for the homeless and Howie as a violinist with a New York-based chamber ensemble. The former, who until recently had never even kissed a woman for fear of contamination, is now engaged to be married. Both stop by MPI frequently to say hello to me and to Robert and the other patients, and Howie has performed for all of us on a number of occasions.

  I’ve told him also about the wedding of Chuck and Mrs. Archer, who are happily sharing a room in Ward Two, not because they have to remain on that floor but because they choose to wait there for prot’s return. Mrs. A, who is no longer called “the Duchess,” looks much younger now, but I’m not sure whether it’s because of the marriage or her giving up smoking. And about their “adopting” Maria, who has moved into a convent in Queens and is the happiest novice out there. She is totally free of headaches and insomnia, and none of her secondary identities has put in an appearance since she left the hospital.

  Russell comes to pray with Robert daily. He has recovered completely from the surgical removal of a golf ball-size tumor in his colon, and so far there has been no sign of a recurrence.

  Ed is doing well, too. There have been few violent episodes since prot’s departure, all minor, and he has been transferred to Ward Two. He spends most of his time working in the flower gardens with La Belle Chatte.

  All of them are waiting patiently for prot’s return and the journey to K-PAX. Except for Whacky, who was recently reunited with his former fiancée when her husband was returned to prison for a lengthy stay. To my knowledge no one has told Robert about this, but perhaps, as prot undoubtedly would have, he just knows.

  Perhaps he knows also that Mrs. Trexler is retired now. On my recommendation she has been seeing a psychoanalyst, and she tells me she is more at peace with herself than she has been in decades.

  And that Betty McAllister became pregnant shortly before prot’s departure, and is now the mother of triplets. Whether he had anything to do with this I can’t say.

  Of course I’ve also told him about my daughter Abby’s new job, now that her kids are both in school, as editor of the Princeton-based Animal Rights Forum—prot would have liked that. And about Jenny, now a resident in internal medicine at Stanford, who plans to stay in California to work with AIDS patients in the San Francisco area. Her sexual preference and disinclination to produce grandchildren for us seems of microscopic importance compared to her dedication to helping others, and I am very proud of her. As I am of Freddy, who is appearing at the time of this writing in a Broadway musical. He lives in Greenwich Village with a beautiful young ballerina, and we’ve seen more of him in the last year than in all those he was an airline pilot combined.

  But I’m proudest of all of Will (he doesn’t want to be called “Chip” anymore), who has taken an interest in Bill and Eileen Siegel’s daughter and calls her every day, much to the delight of the phone company. I have brought him to the hospital once or twice to show him what his old man does for a living, but when he met Giselle he decided he wanted to become a journalist. We are very close now, much more so than I was with Fred and the girls. For that, as with so many other things, I have prot to thank.

  And of course I brag about my two grandsons, whom I get to see quite often—they are Shasta’s favorite visitors—and who are the smartest and nicest kids I’ve ever known, with the possible exception of my own children. I’m proud of all of them.

  I gave up the chairmanship to Klaus Villers. Despite his decree limiting the number of cats and dogs in the hospital to six per floor he is doing a far better job than I ever could have done. Now, unencumbered by all administrative duties and the talk show and as much of the other extraneous baggage as possible, I spend my working hours with my patients, and most of my free time with my family. I no longer sing at the hospital Christmas party, but my wife insists I continue to do so in the shower—she says she can’t sleep otherwise. We both know I’m no Pavarotti, but I still think I sound a lot like him, and perhaps that’s all that matters.

  I wish I could tell Robert that Bess is all right, but she has never turned up, nor have the flashlight, mirror, box of souvenirs, etc., and we have no idea as to her whereabouts. If you see a young black woman with a pretty face, perhaps sitting on a park bench hugging herself and rocking, please help her if you can and let us know where she is.

  And of course I dearly wish I could tell him where his friend prot has gone. I have played for him all the tapes of our sessions together, but there is no sign of comprehension on his part. I tell him to wait a little longer, that prot has promised to return. He hears all this, curled up on his cot like some chrysalis, without batting an eye. But perhaps he understands.

  Will prot ever show up again? And how did he get from his room to Bess’s under our very noses? Did this involve a kind of hypnosis on his part, or a similar ability we don’t comprehend? We may never know. I fervently wish I could talk with him again, just for a little while, to ask him all the questions I never got the chance to ask before. I still think we could have learned a great deal more from prot and, perhaps, from all our patients. As the cures to many of our physical ailments may be waiting for us in the rain forests, so may the remedies for our social ills lie in the deepest recesses of our minds. Who knows what any of us could do if we were able to concentrate our thoughts with prot’s degree of intensity, or if we simply had sufficient willpower? Could we, like him, see ultraviolet li
ght if we wanted to badly enough? Or fly? Or outgrow our “childhood” and create a better world for all the inhabitants of the EARTH?

  Perhaps he will return some day. By his own calculations he is due again soon. Giselle, who has been waiting patiently for him, has no doubts whatsoever, nor do any of the patients, nor most of the staff, who keep his dark glasses on the little dresser beside Robert’s bed. And sometimes at night I go out and look up at the sky, toward the constellation Lyra, and I wonder. . . .

  Acknowledgments

  I am indebted to many individuals for their generous assistance, especially John Davis, M.D. for helpful discussions, and Rea Wilmshurst, C. A. Silber, Burton H. Brody, and Robert Brewer for critical readings of the manuscript. I also thank my editors Robert Wyatt and Iris Bass for their enormous skill and excellent advice, Ida Giragossian for suggesting I give them a try, Annette Johnson and Susan Abramowitz for their selfless efforts on my behalf, and my agent Maia Gregory for her wit and timely encouragement. And, as always, my wife Karen for her unflagging support of everything I have ever done.

  Glossary

  Å—angstrom (one ten-millionth of a millimeter)

  ABREACTION—release of emotional tension brought about by recalling a repressed traumatic experience

  ADRO—a K-PAXian grain

  AFFECT—the emotional state or demeanor of a psychiatric patient

  AGAPE—a star in the constellation Lyra

  AIKIDO—a Japanese form of self-defense involving the throwing of one’s opponent

  ANAMNESIS—the recollection of past events

  AP—a small, elephant-like being

  APHASIA—inability to speak or understand spoken or written language

  BALNOK—a large-leafed K-PAXian tree

  BROT—an orf (a progenitor of the dremers)

  C—the speed of light (186,000 miles per second)

  CHOREA—a disease of the nervous system characterized by jerky, involuntary movements

  CONFABULATION—the replacement of a gap in one’s memory by something he or she believes to be true

  COPROPHILIA—an obsession with feces

  DELUSION—a false belief that is resistant to reason or confrontation with actual fact

  DRAK—a red grain having a nutty flavor

  DREMER—a K-PAXian of prot’s species

  ELECTROCONVULSIVE THERAPY (ECT)—electric shock treatment used in cases of acute depression

  ELECTROENCEPHALOGRAM (EEG)—a graphical representation of the electrical activity of the brain

  EM—a large, frog-like being who lives in trees

  FLED—an undescribed K-PAXian being

  FLOR—an inhabited planet in the constellation Leo

  HOM—a K-PAXian insect

  HYPNOSIS—an induced trance-like state producing vivid recollection along with an enhanced susceptibility to outside suggestion

  JART—a measurement of distance (equivalent to 0.214 miles)

  K-MON—one of the two suns of K-PAX (also called Agape)

  KORM—a bird-like being

  K-PAX—a planet in the constellation Lyra

  KREE—a K-PAXian vegetable, much like a leek

  K-RIL—one of the suns of K-PAX (also called Satori)

  KROPIN—a truffle-like fungus

  LIKA—a K-PAXian vegetable

  MANO—a dremer

  MOT—a skunk-like animal

  MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER (MPD)—a psychological dysfunction characterized by the existence of two or more distinct personalities, any of which may be in command of the body at a given time

  NARR—a doubter

  NEUROLEPTIC DRUG—a compound having antipsychotic properties

  NOLL—a planet in the constellation Leo

  ORF—one of the progenitors of the dremers

  PARANOIA—a mental disorder characterized by feelings of persecution

  PATUSE—a K-PAXian musical instrument, similar to the bass viol

  PROT—traveler

  RELDO—a village on the planet K-PAX

  RULI—a cow-like being

  SATORI—a star in the constellation Lyra

  SAVANT SYNDROME—a condition characterized by remarkable mental capabilities, usually associated with a low level of general intelligence

  SWON—an em

  TERSIPION—a planet in the constellation Taurus

  THON—a K-PAXian grain

  TOURETTE’S SYNDROME—a neurological disorder characterized by recurrent involuntary movements, and sometimes by grunts, barks, or epithets

  TROD—a chimpanzee-like being

  YORT—a sugar plum

  K-Pax II

  on a beam of light

  For my wife’s retirement fund

  Sometimes one wonders whether the dragons of primeval ages are really extinct.

  —SIGMUND FREUD

  Prologue

  In March 1995, I published an account of sixteen sessions with a psychiatric patient who believed he came (on a beam of light) from a planet called K-PAX. The patient, a thirty-three-year-old male Caucasian who called himself “prot” (rhymes with “goat”), was, in fact, a double personality whose alter ego, Robert Porter, had been devastated by a severe emotional trauma. The latter survived only by hiding behind his formidable “alien” friend. When prot “returned” to his home planet at precisely 3:31 A.M. on August 17, 1990, promising to reappear “in about five of your years,” Robert was left behind in a state of intractable catatonia, kept alive by constant monitoring and attentive care.

  Many of the patients in residence at the Manhattan Psychiatric Institute at the time of prot’s tenure have since departed. These include Chuck and Mrs. Archer (all names have been changed to protect individual privacy), who only recently moved out to a retirement complex on Long Island, thanks to an annuity established by her late husband; and Ed, a psychopath who gunned down six people in a shopping mall in 1986, but who has evinced little tendency toward violent behavior since a chance encounter with prot in 1990. He now lives in a community care home with La Belle Chatte, a former feline resident of MPI. The only patient mentioned in K-PAX who was still with us in 1995 was Russell, our resident “chaplain,” who had nowhere else to go.

  Nevertheless, all our inmates, even the most recent arrivals, were well aware of prot’s promised return, and as the miserably hot, rainless summer days oozed by, the tension began to mount among patients and staff alike. (Only Klaus Villers, our director, remained unperturbed. In his opinion, “He vill neffer be back. Robert Porter vill be here foreffer.”)

  No one anticipated prot’s return more than I, however, not only because of a paternal fondness I had developed for him during the course of our sessions together, but also because I still hoped to get Robert out of the catatonic ward and, with prot’s help, on the long road to recovery. But “about five years” from the time of prot’s departure could have been anytime in 1995 or even later, so my wife and I went ahead with our usual plans to spend the middle two weeks of August at our Adirondack retreat.

  That was a mistake. I was so preoccupied with the possibility of his imminent reappearance that I was very poor company for Karen and our friends, the Siegels, who tried every possible means to get my mind off my work. In hindsight I probably realized unconsciously that “five years” meant, to a mind as precise as prot’s, sometime within minutes or hours of that exact interval. In fact, it was on Thursday, August 17, at 9:08 A.M., that I received a tearful call from Betty McAllister, our head nurse. “He’s back!” was all she could say, and all she needed to.

  “I’ll be there this afternoon,” I assured her. “Don’t let him go anywhere!”

  Karen (a psychiatric nurse herself) merely smiled, shook her head, and began to pack a lunch for my return trip to the city while I grabbed up unread reports and unfinished manuscripts and stuffed them into my briefcase.

  The drive gave me a chance to reflect once more on the events of 1990, which I had reviewed only a few weeks earlier in preparation for his possible return. Fo
r the benefit of those who are not familiar with the history of the case, a brief summary follows:

  Robert Porter was born and raised in Guelph, Montana. In 1975, when he was a high-school senior, he married a classmate, Sarah (Sally) Barnstable, who had become pregnant. The only job he could find to support his new wife and budding family was “knocking” steers in the local slaughterhouse, the same job that had killed his father some twelve years earlier.

  One Saturday in August 1985, Robert arrived home from work to find a stranger coming out the front door. He chased the man through the house, past the bloody bodies of his wife and daughter, and into the backyard, where he broke the intruder’s neck. Numb with grief, he attempted suicide by drowning in the nearby river. However, he washed ashore downstream, and from that moment forward was no longer Robert Porter, but “prot,” a visitor from the idyllic planet K-PAX, where all the terrible things that had befallen his alter ego could never happen.

  Indeed, his was a truly Utopian world, where everyone lived happily for a thousand years without the tiresome need to work for a living, where there was little or no sickness, poverty, or injustice, nor, for that matter, schools, governments, or religions of any kind. The only drawback to life on K-PAX seemed to be that sexual activity was so unpleasant that it was resorted to only to maintain the (low) population levels.

  After prot, a true savant who knew a great deal about astronomical matters, was brought to MPI (how he got to New York is still a mystery), it took me several weeks to understand that he was a secondary personality behind whom his primary psyche was hiding and, with the help of Giselle Griffin, a freelance reporter, to identify that tragic soul as Robert Porter. But this revelation came too late. When prot “departed” the Earth on August 17, 1990, Robert, no longer able to hide behind his alter ego, retreated deep into the recesses of his own shattered mind.