Adapt (7 page)

“I can’t find anything,” said Matt as he put his phone on the work surface and began to eat his breakfast. Whilst dipping toast into a soft egg Matt questioned the reliability of where Daniel got his information. “Are you sure it’s not a wind up? A joke at work?”

“It’s not a joke,” said Daniel. “At first that’s all I thought it could be, but believe me it’s no joke. I’ve had too many strange reactions.”

“Has anyone told you anything?” asked his mother. “What type of strange reactions?”

“No. Some are negative reactions. Actually I would class it all as negative but some are worse than others. No one has given clear details.”

“If you can try to relax, we will see how things pan out,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. He could see the concern his mother had for him.

“It’s understandable that you’re anxious but you can’t do anything at the moment,” she said. “Stop using your computer for now.”

“I have. I’m never using it again,” he replied.

Matt walked to the kitchen door. “Try not to worry,” he called back.

“I’ll try,” said Daniel.

Daniel did try to forget about it. He went for a run, refuelled with a salmon salad ready for a resistance training session. Following the exercise he set up a canvas. He had produced a few pieces of art a number of years ago, and he remembered how relaxing it was. The calmness of gliding a brush across the sheet leaving behind an exuberant mix of colour. Creating a landscape, exaggerating the red sky of a sunset or a moody cloud formation. Art in which he could transcend into the detail of the world he was creating. He painted a purple sky with a low morning sun, bright and yellow in the centre of the canvas. A pink hue surrounding was where he finished. He left it incomplete and decided to finish the art another day. The picture was left wanting, needing, much the same as his mind.

Later that night he watched the TV, sipping a sweet mug of honey that he clasped with both hands. A comedy news programme he often watched had changed. The beginning sequence now contained the same gestures people had been directing at him all week. The poking out of the tongue, the miming mouth movements.
Coincidence
, he thought. Daniel rubbed his head and rewound the programme.
That’s it, there’s no doubt about it, that’s what everyone has been doing to me.
He watched carefully, analysing in great detail what was being said. He realised that most of the programme was saying the same things he had said the previous month. He tried to remember anything he had said that may have been hacked.

The conversations on the programme were the same as what he had had with others. They were mimicking him, then insulting him.
How much have I been bloody hacked? How bloody widespread
was it?
Daniel called Matt in for a second opinion. The pair gazed at the screen standing side by side.

“This is all stuff that I have done or said.”

“So what?” replied Matt.

“So what?” said Daniel. “So how is this happening? Why are they doing that? Do you remember that exact conversation?” Matt stared at Daniel.

“Yes, I do, actually,” said Matt.

“Would you not say that’s a bit fucked up?” asked Daniel.

“It’s a coincidence, nothing more. It’s oddly familiar but there’s no reason to look so concerned,” said Matt.

“I am bloody concerned. How can so many people be in on this yet we’ve seen nothing?”

“No one is in on it. If someone hacked you and so many people saw it, someone we know would have asked about it. One would have come forward,” said Matt.

“This is getting really fucked up. Do you think I should call the police?”

“What do you think the police will say? Think about it. If you tell them that.”

“Maybe I should call a solicitor,” said Daniel.

“What would you say? You have no tangible evidence that someone has put something on the net.”

“I will tell them what people said at work. I will tell them that these people in the media have been ridiculing me and my family,” said Daniel.

“That’s not proof,” said Matt. “If you had what went on the net then you could mirror it with this programme. Then you could probably sue the channel. But you don’t have it, so forget it.”

Daniel fast forwarded the programme. “Look,” he said. “Look at this bit.”

“Stay away from this rubbish,” said Matt, “I don’t want to hear about it or talk about it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Just ignore it,” Matt said as he left the room.

Over the following weeks Daniel was powerless in the unfolding situation. He tried to ignore it because without a witness he could do nothing. The programme’s targeting him continued. He watched in disbelief yet could not act. The insults became more vicious in nature, targeting his whole family but they could not see it. He wanted to confront it, fight back, and defend himself. How could he? They didn’t use his name. He thought of some of the veiled insults and threats fired from the media.
Grind that family into mincemeat / I’m glad I’m not the only one that said something about him / Disgusting person, he should be killed humanely / Someone has to kill them / You say sorry with a text.

Daniel collapsed while leaning on the front door. His eyes watered, his family were unaware of the insults but he still felt for them. The parents who raised him, siblings he grew up with, even his nieces and nephews were all under attack from the media. He couldn’t hit back, it was a sneaky form of bullying. His father saw him at the door. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“These people are relentlessly targeting us. They are targeting the people I love and I can’t deal with that,” said Daniel.

“It’s in your mind. We are not aware of anything,” said Harry.

“I watched that programme. I need the police because they are still hacking me.”

“That’s a ridiculous notion,” said Harry.

“I showed Matt the programme last week. On last night’s programme they said ‘stay away from this rubbish, I don’t want to hear about it or talk about it’.”

“And why does that mean they are hacking you?” his father asked.

“That’s an exact quote of what Matt said to me when I showed him. I need to take my phone to the police. They must be hacking that.”

“It’s a coincidence.”

“It’s no coincidence. They are hacking me.”

“They are not hacking you. Let’s go and see somebody. You talk it through with them and they may help. Go from there.” Daniel looked up he was willing to try any avenue to get closure on the situation.

“Okay, I will go,” he said.

“Right now,” his father asked.

“The sooner the better. I have to do something.”

“We will arrange to see somebody immediately, they will help rearrange your thinking,” his father said on the way to the phone in the kitchen.

Within a few hours they had an appointment with a doctor at the hospital. They waited a long time to be seen. Daniel and his parents waited, wondering if it was the right decision. For Daniel, he had to make a decision, he had run out of other choices, without a witness to the hacking he was powerless in the face of bullies. He was willing to take a chance that this route may have a solution.
This may lead to an investigation; it certainly can’t complicate the situation any further.

“Daniel O’Neal,” the nurse called out. Daniel got to his feet and walked over to her. “This way,” she said. “Doctor Cribson will see you now.” Daniel followed her to an office at the end of the corridor. Daniel entered the room; a short man stood in front of him. He was skinny and looked frail. His long bony fingers clasped a clipboard. Whites of his eyes tainted yellow, and the iris as grey as his comb-over hair. A few wisps of wiry hair clinging on across the top of his head, separated from the thick band of hair over his ears and along the base of his skull. The grey goatee beard he sported seemed out of place.

“Hello, Daniel, I’m Doctor Cribson, please sit down.” He spoke slowly, unsettlingly slow. “I understand you need help. Tell me how you see your problem.”

“I don’t know why I came here,” Daniel said. “I had a gut feeling someone at work was hacking me.” He paused.

“Please, continue,” said the doctor.

“Then I started to get people I have never met say things to me. Someone at work said I was on the internet and a young woman said the same. Neither actually showed me.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to ignore it. I thought things would become clearer at some point. I had no idea how severe the situation was.”

“It is severe, I have the remedy. Do you think I can help you?”

“I think I should tell the police. I don’t think there is anything you can do,” said Daniel.

“No,” the doctor replied. “Don’t go to the police, this is not for them, rule that out.”

“It seems to be widespread, I have even noticed a programme that’s obsessed with it. Every week, they ridicule me.”

“You have noticed this. Very good. I’m glad you told me this. This is classic. Textbook psychosis. The idea that the media are after you.” The doctor stroked his beard as he spoke. “It’s florid, ever growing, ever expanding. Do you think the government is hunting you or spying on you?”

“No,” Daniel replied.

“Are government agencies bugging your phone?”

“No. Agencies have real concerns, they really wouldn’t waste their time bugging me. They have enough on their plate.”

“But you see it as a possibility,” insisted the doctor as he scribbled down notes. “Are you willing to attend a ward I have ready for you? I think it’s urgent that you come in.”

“I don’t need anything like that,” Daniel said.

“I can help you. Sign this and you will be under my care. Trust me,” he said as he slipped a form in front of Daniel. He passed him a pen. Daniel signed it without thinking it through. “Good. You are under my care now. I understand your psychosis very well. You’re very sick and need urgent medication.”

“No,” Daniel insisted. “I don’t need medication.”

“You do. I understand your parents brought you here. I would like to call them in.”

A nurse guided Harry and Clarissa to the office. Dr Cribson analysed the concern in their expression. “Mr and Mrs O’Neal. Your son is very ill. You were right to bring him to me, I can cure his sickness.”

“We weren’t sure what to do,” his father said. “We have never been in a situation like this. Daniel usually thinks things through thoroughly.”

“This is unusual behaviour, then?” the doctor asked, glaring at Clarissa.

“I’ve never known Daniel to be so anxious,” she said. Daniel stared at the floor.
This is unbelievable. He hasn’t listened to a word I have said.

“I believe he needs to be on my ward, as of immediately,” the doctor said.

“That’s up to him,” said Harry whilst looking at Daniel. Dr Cribson bypassed Daniel and handed Harry a strip of pills.

“Your son is an adult, but with his illness he can’t analyse a situation and decipher what is best for himself,” said Dr Cribson. “He is very sick, these are essential in his recovery.” Harry looked at the pills and glanced up at the doctor. “If you want to help Daniel, make sure he takes these. Tonight. It’s urgent.”

“Okay,” his father said.

Dr Cribson stroked his beard, his bleak grey eyes studying his new patient.

Daniel couldn’t sleep that night. He hadn’t slept comfortably since the situation began. Tonight was worse. He reluctantly took the pills as the doctor advised. Lying on one side, he would then try the other, sit up, rub his face then try again. He would pace back and forth in his room, then try once more.

Psychotic,
he thought,
that’s a most disconcerting evaluation. It’s damning. I know I’m not psychotic. The man has intent. How can he say I’m psychotic, knowing what that could do to my life?

Daniel’s head ached, a pain consumed his mind, restricting his thoughts and drowning cognitive efficiency.
I want to end this. I need to end this. I have not opened up a new door, I’ve opened up a new front, a new domain of damaging entropy. Psychosis.
He sat at the end of his bed.
How can I end this?

He stood up and put on a pair of jogging bottoms. He looked at the time,
four in the morning.
Barefooted and bare chested he walked to the back door. He braced against the cold as he stepped out. Ice on the ground reached out to the soles of his feet; he lacked any acknowledgement that the nerve endings on his toes were freezing. In the garage he knew what he was looking for. He grabbed both items then walked out, across the rigid cold blades of grass. He stood under the dead branches and leafless twigs of the huge oak tree. Foreboding and menacing under the moonlight. Daniel set the ladder under a thick branch, the rope in his hand rough and course as he climbed each step. The knot he tied was strong, as was the rope. Then came the noose. He looked
at the moon, the only thing in his mind was his family. Was he capable of doing that to them? He would be responsible for his parents’ loss of a son. Freya, Marcus, Luke and Alana would lose an uncle.
Weak
, he thought.
I have always fought when I needed to. Your hands are tied at the moment. Once freed you can take on the bullies. You would be the coward if you do this.

“Daniel,” his father’s voice called. “Daniel.” From atop the ladder he turned around, still holding the rope. His father grabbed his arm. He couldn’t feel the cold but he felt his father’s grip; his hand was warm as he pulled Daniel off of the ladder. Two silhouettes, facing each other, neither able to see the other’s face clearly.

“What were you thinking?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer he said, “let’s go in, it’s freezing out here.” The pair walked toward the house in silence. They headed for the living room, where Daniel sat down as his father placed a few logs on the fire. The wood took to flame easily and the fire roared and crackled within minutes. They were both enchanted by the radiating inferno. Dancing flame engaged his consciousness. He tried piecing together the mosaic of snippets that led to this point.
Psychosis
, he thought once more.

Six hours after Daniel’s old oak drama Harry and Clarissa decided to take him to see Dr Cribson, fearing for his state of mind. Daniel was in a vulnerable trance and agreed to go. Whilst in the car he had his head in his hands.
Why will no one tell me what is going on, then I can make decisions.
The trees at the side of the road were a blur. He struggled to focus. “Let’s turn back,” he said.

“We’re nearly there,” his father said.

Daniel didn’t want to see Dr Cribson again, there was something that didn’t seem normal about him. “There’s no point in seeing him, I’m not psychotic. It’s one man’s opinion. This situation is easily fixable, if only someone could point me in the right direction.”

“This is the right direction, you need help,” his father said.

“Yes, help from the police and a good solicitor,” he replied.

“We are here now, let’s just go in and talk to him.”

Daniel, his mother and his father walked toward the doctor’s office. The scene was upsetting, and a sombre feeling swamped all
three. None said a word.
If he asks me onto the ward I may as well go, to give my parents a break if nothing else.
They were escorted into a room to wait for Dr Cribson. The door opened and entered the man.

“Hello, Daniel. Mr and Mrs O’Neal,” he said with a nod. Daniel began to lose care with what was unfolding, making him vulnerable and easy to sway. “Last night was unexpected. How did you feel at the time?”

“I don’t really know,” replied Daniel. “I needed help from anyone with information but couldn’t get it. Being called psychotic overwhelmed me. I know I’m sane.”

“Last night was not the act of a sane individual,” said Dr Cribson. “You’re ill, very ill. You don’t understand it yet, but if you come onto the ward I will make all this go away very quickly.” Daniel didn’t answer, he looked around the room. “Can you assure your own safety?” Again Daniel didn’t answer.
This man can’t help me. Why did I come here?

“Daniel assured me it won’t happen again,” his father said.

“How did you feel, Mr O’Neal?” the doctor asked Harry.

“I was upset. I understand he was confused and it was a way of saying how urgent this was,” replied Harry.

“You did the right thing coming to me. I can help your son. Do you suggest he come onto the ward for his own safety?”

“I suppose so.” His father paused. “What do you think, Daniel?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. He knew he didn’t need to be there.

“Everything is prepared for you,” said Dr Cribson. “You can leave whenever you like. If you find it unhelpful you can return home.”

“Will it not affect my life in any way?” he asked.

“I assure you it will not affect your life, job or future plans. It is only to keep you out of harm’s way.” Dr Cribson looked over to Harry. “He needs to be safe. Can you assure this Mr O’Neal?”

“I would like to think so,” his father replied.

“Imagine,” the doctor said slowly, “you were a few minutes later last night, movement in the moonlight could have been a swaying body. It would be down to you if it happens again. You must think of Daniel’s safety.”

Daniel could see in his father’s eyes that he too was in a vulnerable state, open to manipulation himself due to the shock of events.

“Maybe it might be good for you,” said his father.

“Okay, I will go,” he said.

Dr Cribson smiled, “Wonderful decision, we will give you all the help you deserve.”

Daniel’s mother had sat in silence holding back tears. Her eyes were welling too quickly to hide. She couldn’t understand how her adult son had gone from enjoying Christmas, going out for a drink on the eve, to this. The man whom his family loved. An uncle, a role which he cherished. A professional driver. Now a few weeks into the New Year he was being admitted into a mental health unit.

He hugged his mother and father. Daniel felt guilty to see them so upset, he could sense their devastation. He squeezed his mum. They said their goodbyes and he took his seat awaiting Dr Cribson’s direction. The doctor sat opposite him.

“I will ask a few questions, then I will get you settled onto the ward,” the doctor said. “Are you still hallucinating?”

“I have never hallucinated,” replied Daniel.

“You have been suffering with rather vivid hallucinations.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You said the TV tells you to do things.”

“I never said that,” replied Daniel. “I said, after explaining that I was hacked, that I began to experience things from around the town. I then noticed a similar thing on a particular programme.”

Dr Cribson stared at Daniel, stroking his goatee beard. He smiled, it was the creepiest smile Daniel had ever seen. “That’s the first indication, the warning. It’s good that you came to us before the TV did give you orders.”

“I wouldn’t listen to them even if it did,” he sarcastically replied. Daniel had all his faculties and could sense the doctor manipulating his answers. He tried to see what Dr Cribson was writing.

“It is text book perceived phenomena,” said Dr Cribson. “You see strangers telling you things, reading your mind. That’s right.”

“No. That’s wrong. You have misunderstood everything.”

“It is you who lacks understanding,” he said whilst writing
notes. Daniel’s confusion was re-focusing as anger. “Do you think I can read your mind?”

“No, I don’t think anyone can, and I have never said anything like it.”

Daniel was becoming increasingly concerned by what was being documented on the page. The doctor continued stroking his beard along with his note taking.

“Denial of symptoms. We will get there. You need to recognise your illness. You are sick. Do you think we are being watched?”

“No.”

“We will work on your symptoms. I’m going to end this for you. The nurse will take a sample of your blood, then we will walk over and show you around.”

Daniel had his blood taken then he followed Dr Cribson across to the ward. He looked up at the two storey brick built secure unit. Looking over to the far end of the unit he could see two builders on scaffolding nursing the ill looking depressed brickwork.
This is not a little therapy room of relaxation, a few plants and a cute nurse on hand, this is a prison. I’ve volunteered to go to a prison.
The doctor used a card key to enter. Dread drenched Daniel’s demeanour as he walked into the unit. The wrong side of the wall. No daylight could bless the inside of the ward. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. Many of the bulbs were gone, never replaced, giving no formality to shadow. Shadows of objects, nurses and patients were cast off in different directions.
If you’re not insane on arrival, you will be by the time you leave.

Daniel saw an old man playing chess against himself. A grey beard down to his waist. He would move a chess piece, laugh to himself and then move the opposite colour. His teeth were missing as was his index finger on his playing hand.

“I will show you the garden area and then your bed. I hope you can rest in peace while you are under us,” said Dr Cribson.

“I can leave at any point, right?” he asked.

“We will see,” he replied. “I will leave you to it.”

Daniel walked to the communal area and took a seat in the once soft chair, foam escaping from the many holes in the material. The chairs were the only contrast to the white walls, they were orange with a layer of ground in dirt on the surface. The
two women that sat adjacent to him stared at him like he didn’t belong.
You’re right, I don’t belong here.
A man paced back and forth. He wore a cap and a long fishing jacket, his grey beard had remains of his meal entwined. The eerie atmosphere on the ward was enough to take his mind off of his own problems. A large woman wearing a filthy puffer jacket and jogging bottoms stopped in her tracks and looked at Daniel.

“You’re dead,” she shouted. She pointed at Daniel. “Dead.” She edged closer. “Dead,” she said a third time. Her face was round and potted with small holes. Deep wrinkles marked under her eyes and across her forehead. She came closer.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I know you,” she said, her raspy voice sounding painful. “We know you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. She continued on her way. He ruminated his options.
What can I do? Was I really thinking of doing that last night? Could I really follow through? It’s a coward’s choice. I’m no coward and never have been, but my confusion has morphed into desperation. I need help, but not from these people. I need to get out of here.
He looked over at two male nurses walking through. Both looked in his direction. One whispered to the other and he then nodded.
This place gives me the creeps. I’m going to ask to leave tomorrow, I don’t belong here.

The old chess player eventually won. He was always going to win as he knew his opponent’s move before it was made. Any counter-action from the opposing side, the Nobody, was swiftly defunct.
The Nobody had no chance
. Daniel sat back and closed his eyes. Through his eyelids he could detect a flickering light. He listened to time passing. The clock behind him grew louder. Each tick another second vanishing. Time that should be spent confronting real issues rather than the new focus of a phantom psychosis.

That would be convenient if all of life’s problems could be wrapped up with a simple word, psychosis. Debt, bullying, redundancy, a victim of crime, illness. It’s okay, it’s all in your mind, none of it’s real. Psychiatry isn’t even a real science, it’s an opinion, an idea, a stab in the dark.

“Dead.” Daniel’s new acquaintance had returned, dragging her
soles on the floor, dragging his soul with them. She continued past, eyeing Daniel every step of the way.
They are going in and out of that door, maybe you can smoke outside.
He had returned to the old habit a few days before seeing Dr Cribson. He pulled out the pack of Marlborough and dug around for a lighter, which he couldn’t find. His friend of old was back with him – a box of twenty. It was as though they had never been apart, the years may well have been weeks, days or hours. Nicotine coursed his veins once again.

Daniel meandered around the Grand Master on his way to the yard. On his approach to the exit he heard footsteps in pursuit. He turned around instinctively. The man in his shadow was a nurse. Thick, bristly grey hair receding dramatically at the front distracted attention away from his long eyebrows. The long white coat he wore was like camouflage in the ward. He could blend into the background with ease.

“Daniel,” said the nurse.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I’m here for the night and will be checking on you every twenty minutes. If you have any disturbances I will be watching.”

“Okay,” said Daniel. “There’s only one problem, I was going for a smoke but I can’t find my lighter.”

“That’s not a problem, that’s a requirement once on this side of the fence. If you had one I would confiscate it immediately. If you want to smoke, ask me and I will light it for you.”

“So you’re the only one here with a lighter.”

“That’s right. I hold all the power,” he said whilst displaying the red clipper in his palm. “Smoke it on the concrete by the door. I will light it then leave you to it. The door is unlocked for a few hours of the day, if you want some fresh air during that time you don’t have to ask.”