he would be risking his life in doing so. After what he had witnessed,
he knew that Schlechtmann and Barth were capable of anything.
But he could not meet with Ling. He could never again meet with
Ling. When he arrived and asked at the Biotechnology office, they
informed him that Dr. Ling finally gone crazy.
Harvey knew that Ling was borderline nuts. Such was the curse
of the true genius. He had been a pioneer in the field of consciousness
research and, like medical students who often believe they are
afflicted by every disease they study, Ling often suffered from
paralyzing bouts of introspection. And often extrospection as well.
He ascribed consciousness to all things. It seemed he could engage in
conversation with a paperweight, staring pensively at it for hours.
Subsequently, he would burst into a frenzy of theorizing, penning
exhaustive outlines for experiments that would never take place.
Luckily, he was fully tenured or he would have been fired ages ago.
He had been researching the consciousness of plants when the
final break with reality occurred. He sent a letter to the university
indicating that he was now a Mojave Indian shaman and no longer
had any interest in academia.
Dr. Ling was one of the only people Harvey had ever opened up
to in his life. There was no one else he could turn to now.
Once, when marital difficulties had driven Harvey back to his
chronic battle of the bottle, Ling tried to express to him that alcohol
was no substitute for the love he sorely needed. As Ling put it, alcohol
was no solution. It was a barbituate, a downer. He even spelled it out
on a napkin:
Bar bitch you hate
. It was someone you thought you
loved, but who would lure you in and then kick you when you were
down. Instead of alcohol, Ling suggested that they go sailing
together. Harvey didn’t see the point, but indulged his mentor and
showed up at the docks early one Saturday morning with a blistering
hangover. After forty minutes on the sea, he was green and shaky as
lime jello and puking fantastically. “Why in God’s name did you take
me out on this wretched thing?” Harvey demanded between
convulsions, “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Indeed!” Ling replied fantastically, “You’ve got to be empty
before you can be full again. Plus, you’re feeding the fish. Good for
you. You know, this whole thing reminds me of that old joke.”
Harvey had looked over at Ling, distinguished-looking even in
Speedos. “What joke? I fail to see the humor.” he gagged.
Ling smiled and replied, “Why did the fisherman go to hell?”
H O L Y S H I T !
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