“So doc,” says Patient Zero, making himself comfortable on the couch, “you want to get inside my head. Psychoanalysis me and all that jazz,” he chuckles. “I’ve read your DSMs, you know, one through six. We’ll be sitting here for decades with that approach.” The patient sighs, and then beams a beatific smile, “but don’t fret. I’ve got your back, Doc. I know a shortcut.”

“The problem,” says the patient, “lies in translation. I’ve just got to teach you the syntax, and there’s an easy way for that. Get locked up in solitary for a couple of months. Nah, the wardens haven’t gotten that cruel yet. They’ll probably let you out after a week. Better yet, I’ve got a bunker out in the middle of nowhere, with supplies that should last you a year. I’ll lock you in there for a few months.”

The patient’s voice drops to a low murmur. The doctor pushes his chair forward to hear him better.

“When you’re all alone,” the patient says, “the first couple of days are easy. You think and think and think. You remember, you learn from memories, and you lose yourself in a self constructed fantasy. After that, you grow bored out of your mind. You work out, eat, sleep and sing… You’ll do anything just so as long as you don’t have to think. Once you start getting angry, you’ll know that you’re two steps from hell.”

The doctor shivers. He’s heard worse, but there’s something about the man’s tone and eyes, something completely alien.

“Once you’re in hell, that’s where things get interesting. How would you deal with a cold dark bitter night, when you’re paralyzed and your own thoughts betray you. Seeing your soul in the garden of paradise is nice and all, but encountering it in this place will only fill you with a disgust for everything. Food turns to ashes, that beautiful copy of Monet on your wall turns into something vile, all joyous memories turn hollow, and you relive your mistakes over and over. You feel dark demons creep around you. If you don’t confront this there, slay the demons, analyse yourself and search for the meaning of it all, then perhaps you’ll get lost there forever. It’s in hell where the Light shines brightest, you know. And that’s a good thing for dodos like me, or I’d still be stuck there.”

The patient gazes out the window with a distant stare. The doctor’s cough brings him out of his reverie… “And that’s only the second week, Doc. After that, your mind just goes to places. You may call it madness, but it’s something much more than that. You’re not living only in this world any longer, and you’re not living alone. There are creatures beyond the ether, some good, some bad, and some downright mad. You lose all loyalty to any past identity, as you begin to explore the cosmos of your soul. Now’s the time you should be wary of arrogance, or you’ll fall right back into hell again… It’s a trap, but this time it’s easier to climb out.”

The man writes down an address and nods, “I’ll see you there when you’re ready, Doc.”

[Poem] To Nemesis