23

23

Toes curled to clench the end of the board; he gulped as it seemed that
this time he would not be wrenched, panting back to his rocking chair
in the asylum. He would have to go. He had picked his dive in one of
the many times he had been to this place. Triple back somersault, clap
hands, tongue out, change to forward somersault, four of those and then
the water.

23 had had his dose. He had made his way back to his chair that faced
out of the window above the fountain outside and there he had dozed
off. Duty nurse Sandra had made a note of this. This was her duty. To
dose them and write a little diary of what they did in the hour or so
after dosage. Sandra's notes tended to be the ones with blips of
excitement in them as the patients received the wallops of their
single, daily medications in their duration. "23 opened, swallowed and
made his way to his spot." "23 has drifted off."

He looked down past his blue toes at the pool below. "God", he thought.
"That looks a lot more than ten meters." A quick glance to his right
and a board that read '23 meters. You must be out of you mind'
confirmed this. It then occurred to him that he had not ever dived
before. He had rehearsed this many times though and the water below
looked soft and deep.

"23 seems to be agitated in his sleep again", wrote duty nurse Sandra.
23 was moving a lot. He had straightened his legs and his toes were
touching the hot water pipe that went along the wall and around the
room that the patients spent their afternoons in. He was moving his
head in fast circular movements. "Nothing to write home over", she
wrote. "24's still sketching people flowers."

She must be there. Clemence looked from his perch at all the Barrys who
had come to watch him dive. Barry was Clemence's best childhood
friend's father. The Barrys had their arms and fingers extended towards
him making it hard to see if anybody else might be sitting next to any
of them. He had an immense urge to dive. The platform actually seemed
to be growing tiny barnacle like growths that were hurting his feet.
She had to be there though. "Barry, Barry, Barry, Barry..."

The ward was zonking out. The sedatives were taking over and the
patients were mostly asleep, lying randomly around the room. Some had
found something soft. Some had not and lay sprawled out on the blue and
white tiles. 23 continued his seemingly worried slumber. Legs still
extended and toes still touching the pipe. Duty nurse Sandra knew the
pipe wasn't hot enough to burn his skin through socks, so she remained
at her notes behind the one way window.

"Where are you mother?" The barnacles had erupted into little
volcanoes, which were burning his toes black. She wouldn't believe he
had done it if she didn't see him dive. All the Barrys arms and fingers
seemed to be stretching closer towards him. He could define the black
mole that each of them had on the backs of their forefingers. His feet
were on fire. He had to make his dive.

"23 has woken up (odd) and is standing in front..." 23 launched himself
through the pane of glass that was the tenth floor window. After the
immensely loud smash of glass, there was nothing. 1 to 36 lay scattered
around the ward, sleeping soundly as duty nurse Sandra wondered if
writing in real time mattered anymore. After a while of sitting in
discombobulated stillness she walked out of her office and made her way
into the ward, where she could now hear traffic, and over to the
window.

And off... He flew off the burning platform and into the dive he had
planned. As he fell, he could feel the soft hands of the Barrys gently
touching at his skin. His mother would never believe. She never saw.
Triple back somersault, clap hands, tongue out, change to forward
somersault, four of those and then the water.

end