The Poetry Machine

Chapter 8

I stumbled through the passages of the labyrinth, not caring where I ended up. I wanted to lose myself in that maze, to escape the memory of what I had done. Eventually I fell to the floor, exhausted and unaware. Sobs wracked my frame as I reflected on the evil of my deeds and how I had betrayed my professional oath.

A hand clasped my shoulder - gently this time. I looked up, blinking the tears from my eyes. There before me was the face of Miss M_. She smiled tenderly at me before brushing my fringe away from where it was plastered against my face. "Dr W_? Why are you in such a state?"

I tried to speak, but could only croak a faint response. "Miss M_? What are you doing in this God-forsaken place?"

Miss M_ looked around, momentarily confused at my question. Then she laughed. "That is no way to talk of this place. Is your workplace really such a terrible place to you?"

She helped me to my feet. I looked around, and I could not credit my senses. I was in one of the private rooms in the Lewisham asylum. The walls were the familiar calming shades of white and green; the sparse furniture had the air of being well-used. I staggered to the window where I beheld the familiar sight of the asylum grounds, the trees screening the buildings from the vulgar gaze of the city. I felt Miss M_ guide me towards her bed, sitting me down on the counterpane. She looked at me with obvious concern. "You look pale. Are you ill? I can ring for an orderly if you need one."

I did not want to be found here - not in such an obvious state of distress. I was already in trouble with the board as a result of my conduct; to be found in a patient's room and obviously deranged in some way would surely seal my fate and cost me my post and what little reputation I had.

"No."

Miss M_'s expression harshened. "There is no need to take that tone of voice. I was merely trying to help."

She stood up from beside me and made to leave. I reached out to stay her. "Please. I'm sorry. I should not be here. If someone was to come and find us ..."

I watched as Miss M_ removed my hand from her and walked purposefully towards the door. There was the sound of the lock being turned, then Miss M_ faced me. "You need not concern yourself any longer. No one will disturb us now."

She walked forwards. As she did so, her hands went to the buttons of her hospital dress and began to undo the fastenings. It took me a few moments to divine her intent, such was my surprise and state of mind. I found myself being forced into a corner by her advance. "Miss M_! You are not well! You must stop this at once!"

Her only response to my protests was to continue towards me, an expression of vacant anticipation fixed on her face. She mounted the bed and crawled forward until her body straddled mine. Then, she forced herself upon me.

I was awakened by insistent shaking and a stentorian voice demanding my attention. I feared the worst. Had I been discovered in flagrante in Miss M_'s room? If so, then I would surely be dismissed from my post in ignominy, if not dragged through a court of law and made the subject of public scandal and opprobrium. Then, my spirits soared as I recognised the voice: it was Professor C_! Was I still in the basement of the university, lying by the carcass of the poetry machine? Had all my experiences in this labyrinth under an alien star been a delirium brought on by shock? I opened my eyes. Professor C_ stood before me. However, it seemed that there was something lacking from him. "Come, sir," he commanded. "It is time for you to be judged."

"Judged? What have I done?" I struggled to a sitting position. It was obvious that I was in a stone chamber. A window admitted a violet light, and I could see strangely proportioned towers glowing against the dark sky. I tried to make sense of what had happened to me, but I could not distinguish fantasy from reality.

Professor C_ smiled at me, as if he knew what doubts and feelings assaulted me. "You do not know? Then you are ready."

He turned away from me and made his way to an iron-bound door, which he opened and stood beside. From my position I could not see what lay beyond. I walked forward and fixed Professor C_ with my best stare. "Ready for what?"

"Judgement."

It was clear to me that my only answer, indeed my only hope to escape this place, lay beyond the doorway.

Beyond the threshold was another, larger chamber. A threadbare carpet ran from the doorway to a dais at the far end of the chamber. Figures dressed in faded robes were lined up on either side of the carpet. I could not see their features in the flickering light of the candles, but I could see that they were subject to many deformities of the body.

There was a throne on the dais. The throne had the same air of faded decadence as the rest of the chamber. Worn carvings covered the seat, carvings that seemed to writhe in the candlelight. Sat on the throne was a masked figure dressed in golden vestments. It raised a golden-gloved finger and beckoned me forwards. At this point, I found my voice. "Sir - what do you wish of me?"

The figure on the throne gestured again. This time my feet began to move, unbidden by any conscious desires, carrying me forwards. My bravado evaporated in an instant and I began to babble. "Sir - please! What have I done? Tell me so I may make amends. Merciful God preserve me! I beg of you, tell me what I must do. I did not mean to ... I never thought ... ."

I stopped as I found myself standing in front of the seated figure. Now that I was closer, I could see its mask was a burnished shield of gold. What I had mistaken for features were merely reflections, distorted by the mirror-like mask, just as my own features were now reflected back to me. An ordinary sounding voice came from beneath the mask. "You shall be judged."

I swallowed nervously. "Against what?"

"Against your actions here."

"But ... !"

The figure gestured, raising its hand to silence me. "You shall be judged. You shall look into your soul and confront that which you have done. Then you shall be sentenced."

The figure's hands went to the edges of its mask. I tried to protest, but my pleas were silenced as the figure lifted the mask from its face. Beneath the metal was my own face! I gazed upon my doppelgänger, then its face twisted in horror and disgust. I could see the loathing in its eyes - my eyes! - and I knew what it felt. Truly, in the labyrinth, I had betrayed myself and was deserving of no mercy whatsoever. The figure on the throne opened its mouth - my mouth! - and screamed.

I fell to my knees, babbling incoherently. I had no more reserves; I had been broken and found wanting.

The figure on the throne reached out and raised my face towards its. This time, when I saw my reflection in the mask it seemed as if I was being offered succour. I heard the figure speak again. "Serve me and I will give you purpose. Give my gift to those around you and I shall reward you."

It was then that I realised the import of the figure's words. If I accepted its offer I would be returned to my world where I would tend to those who came into my care and, instead of healing them as I would have done before, I would turn them into disciples of my new master. They would be set on another path, one where they could revel in new sensations and eventually come to this place, to stand before my master and to pay him homage. If I did these things, then I too would be rewarded.

I had looked into my soul, but all I had seen was a void waiting to be filled. I bowed my head in supplication and accepted my dues.