 How many comanalysis sessions can someone undergo in one day?
[p 135 ] By CHARLES V. DE VET monkey on his back Under the cloud of cast-off identities lay the shape of another man— was it himself? Illustrated by DILLON HE was walking endlessly down a long, glass-walled corridor. The corridor opened at last into a large high-domed room, much like a railway station or an air terminal. [p 136 ] Two men hurried through a doorway of a small anteroom to his left, calling to him. At the first turn he saw that the aisle merely circled the stairway, coming out into the depot again on the other side. It took him only a few seconds to push the case into the compartment, lock it and slide the key along the floor beneath the locker. But the fact that they had been expecting him meant that others would very probably be waiting outside. The day was hot, and the room had no air conditioning, still a rare luxury on St. Martin’s. The floor beneath Zarwell’s feet assumed abruptly the near transfluent consistency of a damp sponge. It rose in a foot-high wave and rolled gently toward the far wall. “When psychiatry was a less exact science,” his voice went on, seeming to come from a great distance, “a doctor had to spend weeks, sometimes months or years interviewing a patient. We are able now, with the help of the serum, to confine our discourses to matters cogent to the patient’s trouble.” The floor continued its transmutation, and Zarwell sank deep into viscous depths. He should know all about the instrument, its purpose and workings, but he could not bring his thoughts into rational focus. Twice in one sitting is about all we ever try. Zarwell grunted acknowledgment and pushed himself to his feet, apparently unaware that his shirt clung damply to his body. The evening meal hour was approaching when he reached the Flats, on the way to his apartment. All St. Martin’s has a distinctive smell, as of an arid dried-out swamp, with a faint taint of fish. Yet always, when his mind lost its sleep-induced [p 140 ] lethargy, the moment of near understanding slipped away. This morning, however, the sense of disorientation did not pass with full wakefulness. He moved in and joined a party of short, bearded men, directing them as they battered at the wall with a huge log mounted on a many-wheeled truck. The log broke a breach in the concrete and the besiegers charged through, carrying back the defenders who sought vainly to plug the gap.
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