Part 10 (2/2)

”_No!_” My voice must have been a little too sharp, because he raised one eyebrow. ”The a.n.a.logy,” I went on in a quieter tone, ”isn't good because it gives a distorted picture. Look, Your Grace, you know what's done to keep a captive wild duck from flying away?”

”One wing is clipped.”

”Right. Certain of the feathers are trimmed, which throws the duck off balance every time he tries to fly. He's crippled, right? But if you clip the _other_ wing, what happens? He's in balance again. He can't fly as _well_ as he could before his wings were clipped--but he _can_ fly!

”That's what Brownlee's _geas_ does--restore the balance by clipping the other wing.”

His Grace smiled. There was an odd sort of twinkle in his eyes. ”Let me carry your a.n.a.logy somewhat farther. If the one wing is too severely clipped, clipping the other won't help. Our duck wouldn't have enough lift to get off the ground, even if he's balanced.

”Now, a zany who was that badly crippled--?”

I grinned back at him. ”Right. It would be so obvious that he would have been put away very quickly. He would not be just psychopathic, but completely psychotic--and demonstrably so.”

”Then,” the Duke said, still pursuing the same track, ”the only way to 'cure' that kind would be to find a method to ... ah ... 'grow the feathers back', wouldn't it? And where does that put today's psychotherapy? Providing, of course, that the a.n.a.logy follows.”

”It does,” I said. ”The real cure that I want to find would do just that--'grow the feathers back'. And that's beyond the limits of psychotherapy, too. That's why Dr. Brownlee and his boys want to study every zany we bring in, whether he can be helped or not. They're looking for a _cure_, not a stopgap.”

”Let me drag that a.n.a.logy out just a tiny bit more,” said His Grace.

”Suppose there is a genetic defect in the duck which makes it impossible--absolutely impossible--to grow feathers on that wing. Will your cure work?”

I was very quiet for along time. At least, it seemed long. The question had occurred to me before, and I didn't even like to think about it. Now, I had to face it again for a short while.

”Frankly,” I said as evenly as I could, ”I doubt that anything could be done. But that's only an opinion. We don't know enough yet to make any such predictions. It is my hope that some day we'll find a method of restoring every human being to his or her full potential--but I'm not at all certain of what the source of that potential is.

”But when we do get our cure,” I went on, ”then our first move must be to abolish the _geas_. And I wish that day were coming tomorrow.”

There seemed to be a sudden silence in the room. I hadn't realized that I'd been talking so loudly or so vehemently.

The Duke broke it by saying: ”Look here, Royall; I'm going to stay on here until I've learned all about every phase of this thing. It may sound a bit conceited, but I'm going to try to learn in a few weeks everything you have learned in a year. So you'll have to teach me, if you will. And then I'd like to borrow one or two of your therapists, your hexperts, to teach the technique in England.

”Allowing people like that to kill and maim when it can be prevented is unthinkable in a civilized society. I've got to learn how to stop it in England. Will you teach me?”

”On one condition,” I said.

”What's that?”

”That you teach me how to use a walking stick.”

He laughed. ”You're on!”

The officer stuck his head in the waiting room again. ”Pardon me.

Inspector Acrington? The District Attorney would like to see you.”

”Surely.”

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