Pongo #62

Dr N. Quellar M.D.

The subject had risen early that day and gone immediately to the recreation room, asking for her paper and safety pencils. She had been told the previous evening to expect a visit from Insa. In the three hours between breakfast and the meeting, she had drawn twenty pictures of young women in different positions. These images were shaded lovingly and with a professional hand, the cross-hatching mimicking real shadow precisely. Such detail had been added that the absence of any facial features on the women was surely no accident.

Cadderine's first interaction with her sister began shakily. Neither wished to approach, so instead, duel-like, they stood ten feet apart. Insa was the first to move, waiting for a nod from the nurses before she did so. Clearly relieved, she moved towards the subject, embracing her under supervision. Note that the subject did not react at this point, but rather let herself be hugged like a scarecrow or punchbag. Insa asked if Cadderine recognised her, and the nurses echoed the question. No response was observed. As we watched, the visitor ran her hand along the subject's stomach, gasping at the lump she discovered there.

I told her that the abject refusal of chemotherapy was the one of the few forms of response Cadderine had given us.

A period alone with the subject was requested, but declined. We were still not completely clear on the patient's complete motives, inclinations, fetishes and habits, and the last thing anybody wanted was for her sister to be harmed as a guinea pig. Nevertheless, to show that we appreciated the importance of privacy to a patient's welfare, most of the nurses and assistants were sent away, leaving two orderlies and myself remaining. We promised to remain inconspicuous and unobtrusive spectators to the unfolding events.

Insa began patiently retelling Cadderine the events she knew had taken place, hoping to prompt a memory, or at least a reaction. At this point, we were unsure if the subject was suffering from amnesia, shock, a combination, or whether she was merely being introverted. As we listened, we heard sagas of magazine clipping avalanches (Note: OCD?), extensive scabbing on the head due to the ill application of bleach to the head, deliberately botched to mimic a Gilliganecdote, nightmare mealtimes, slashed former wardrobes. Sadly no incidences of catching the subject masturbating over images of her idol, which would have served to corroborate many strands of my initial theories regarding idolmorphosis, but it's not Christmas every day, I understand that.

"This is confidential, right? You guys are all under the Hippocratic Oath? Insa Harver turned to us.

I told her that the orderlies were only casual staff and technically not under any oath, but that they would be discreet if she wished to say anything in confidence to Cadderine.

"Not good enough, I'm afraid. I'd like them to leave. I need to ask my sister something.
As was correct procedure, I told her that this was impossible, for reasons detailed above. However, after discussing the delicacy of the enquiry, I agreed that only I should remain in the room with the pair.

Here I encounter a dilemma, because of the importance not just to my personal research, but of all research done into subject Harver's medical condition to date, of the question asked. My oath is many things: a shield, a guarantee that allows patients to relax in my presence, but sometimes it is a millstone.

It is no good. I cannot break confidentiality. As painful as it is to accept, the question dies with the three of us. I will, however, try and describe the manner in which it was asked and answered. Insa spoke softly, but not condescendingly. She did not use baby-talk just because Cadderine was a patient. The question was asked once in plain English and the subject answered after a beat in the same direct fashion. I asked Insa whether she was happy with that answer, considering the conditions and fragile mental state of her sister, and she replied that she was fairly sure Cadderine would never consciously lie.

From this interaction born of a single question, subsequent questions arise. Was the subject giving an answer she considered honest in the context of her disturbed state, did she answer truthfully in a moment of total clarity or is her sister's judgment skewed for any number of reasons? If we are to believe subject Harver's answer is accurate, then its contents, over which I am sworn to secrecy, are surely desperately important to the police.

One further note on the exchange: After the answer was given and verified in kind, Insa Harver was seen to break down in tears and once more embrace her sister. The gesture was still unrequited.

Longwave 1771.1

Police looking for the attacker of Maren Gilligan are continuing their combing of the city's streets, but have today announced that they will also be consulting doctors in every psychiatric ward in the area, in keeping with a line of investigation regarding sufferers of the disorder idolmorphosis.

The winners of the Cooble Cocoa/Marley/La Prizzita competition have been named. We caught up with one winner, Hellin Fova of South Central.

Helen, how does it feel to be on the verge of trying Marley's world-loved therapy techniques?

Oh, amazing. I'm just so excited about the whole day. I seriously entered about fifty million times because I was so desperate to win a place.

And that special treatment? What do you think of joining the Peaches and Cream elite for a day?

Again, I'm just so excited. I can't believe it. Feel like a total star. It's a bit scary - don't really know what to expect but that's part of the fun of it, I think.

Finally, if you had to nominate the face of Peaches and Cream, who would it be?

Oh God, that's a tough one. I think I'd have to go for Maren Gilligan. She always looks amazing, especially since she's been through so much lately. Hope she gets well soon.

And so say all of us. Thanks Hellin. Have a great time chez Marley!

Thank you!

OK, do we want some Beckiss Bren? I want some Beckiss Bren. This is "Fell Through Your Heart.