June 30th, 2033
I was released this morning from a soft 51/50 hold. Doctor Grusin was able to convince his colleagues that even though he believes I’m a little off my rocker, I’m not a danger to anyone, or to myself for that matter.
How reassuring, but I knew that three days ago when they dragged me into the psych-unit at County USC. I’ve been poked, prodded, and poked some more. I answered more questions than an oracle on a hill and was diagnosed and derided as a loon by a panel of zit-faced interns who would much rather have been at the beach, or out on the golf course.
But, it’s all good.
I never lost my cool.
They held me for seventy-two hours, but it didn’t take me much longer than ten minutes to learn the game, push the right buttons and set the wheels in motion for my eventual release. All I had to do was give in to the psycho-babble and pretend to be cured. A win-win situation for all involved, I pretend to be cured, and they pretend to have cured me.
Everyone walks away happy and out the door I go, – and, not a moment too soon.
‘Cuz, they’re coming.
That’s a fact, Doc, and no amount of poking around inside my head is going to change that.
I am having visions, and they are real.
I’m not making this up.
I’ll try and do the right thing.