No, no, no...
I recieved a letter from Uncle Otto this morning, in which he deprecated my loose mouth, and informed me of his recent success on the HMB16 prototype of the FTL communication device. He seems to assume I know what this means.
I am very upset. I believed I had finally encountered a fellow spirit, a man to whom I could bare my soul - and then he betrays me.
Ah, well. It is no use to dwell on such things.
And yet I do. I sit and stare at passerbys, and my limbs feel as heavy as they did when I was quadriplegic. Oh, Helga. I almost telephoned her earlier today, and only just managed to bring myself under control.
I seem to have no words.
I have at last returned.
It seems my "friend" doctor Lichtermann was not as honest as one should be able to expect from a member of the medical profession. In fact, I would venture as far as to say he deliberately misled me in arranging an "informal conversation". It turned out, I soon discovered, that there was nothing informal about it. He did, in fact, pretend to superior knowledge concerning my mental stability, and abused the trust I had given him.
Granted, I am not always in a calm and harmonious state of mind, but then, who is? I did not receive an adequate answer to this question. Instead he continued, in a particularly insensitive manner, to probe into matters concerning my Uncle Otto and the mystical qualities of blood, which I did not feel at liberty to disclose, having discovered his treacherous nature.
I should never have mentioned either of these in our first conversation at the hospital, as he now took advantage of my indiscretion to attempt to procure additional information. I of course refused to divulge anything as regards such matters, and even went so far as to deny having mentioned them at all, which of course was a lie, but one, I strongly belive, which was justifiable under the circumstances.
Little did I suspect what was to come. As I rose in vexation and prepared to leave, while admonishing doctor Lichtermann to forget everything I had said, he, through some means unknown to me - I suspect telepathy - called a pair of ruffians into the room who then proceeded to immobilize me, employing their superior strength. Doctor Lichtermann withdrew a hypodermic syringe, and approached me. I am ashamed to admit I eyed it lecherously, and he mistook my lust for fear and attempted, rather clumsily, to calm me.
The end of it was, however, that he sedated me and I woke up, I know not how much later, in a padded cell in what I discovered was a mental institution. There they subjected me to various tests, some of which were psychological and some biological. I strongly suspect they also employed mentats to monitor me, as I experienced a distinctive psychogalvanic response every time my thoughts strayed into secret matters.
It turned out, however, that an agent of Uncle Otto's organization was employed at the institution, and with his help I managed to escape. I might not have been that lucky. And what Uncle Otto's reaction will be when he discovers it I dare not contemplate. A reprimand will be the least of my concerns.
The cat is dead, as I had expected, and the dog did not seem to have noticed my absence.
I do not feel appreciated.
I managed to capture a cat yesterday and anesthetized it. I do not think it is a stray cat as it seems healthy and well fed, and I certainly hope I am correct - it would not do for it to be diseased. I am preparing a nutrient solution that I will feed it through an intravenous tube, and hopefully this will keep it alive for some time. I wanted to connect myself to it at once, but I have decided to wait until it wakes up. It would be akin to rape as it is now, and I have always considered myself a friend to animals.
My appointment with Dr. Lichtermann is for tomorrow and I am rather looking forward to it. He must be even more exited than I am. I am sure we will have a very interesting conversation.
The dog came back and told me to leave the house early this morning, and I sat on the grass in the garden for two hours before it would let me back in. The neighbours were watching me through their windows. I waved, but they did not wave back. When I was finally allowed inside, I could smell burnt hair, and indeed the dog's fur was singed. I inquired as to what it had done, but it would not tell me.
I am frankly worried.
It is very quiet today. The dog left yesterday and has not come back. I feel a faint vibration through the floor. I do not know from where it comes. It seems to be saying something to me. Perhaps it will only be alive for a short while, and relies on me for its existence to be meaningful.
I would apologize to the vibration if I could. I do not understand a word it is saying. And even if I did - would it speak a language I know? Granted, I am something of a linguist - a byproduct of intense scrabble practice - but even so.
The birds are also quiet. I can see one standing alone on the light mast across the streat. It does not look lonely. Birds rarely look lonely. They are like cats in that regard. Perhaps the bird is listening to the vibration as well. Perhaps it is in communication with it. Why should I be its only hope? What would the vibration and I have to say to each other if we could communicate?
The bird knows better.
I have at last returned from the hospital. They refused to let me go until today, insisting that I was undernourished and suffering from bloodloss - I of course willingly submitted to the replenishment of my blood, but they still would not let me leave, saying that I must be kept under observation.
In addition to this affront they quite rudely made me undergo a psychiatric evaluation. I of course astounded the poor man by the acuity of my insight into various subjects such as international politics and metaphysics, and he was very interested in continuing our conversation. I have scheduled a meeting with him next week. His willingness to learn is admirable.
I was, however, forced to employ my not inconsiderable persuasive powers in order to prevent them from involving the police. I barely succeeded.
The dog was waiting for me when I returned, seeming no worse for my absence. I wonder where it obtained food. It did not acknowledge my presence and did not answer when I inquired as to its whereabouts during these trying days. It is certainly an uncivilized being, although that should not come as a surprise, considering its nativity.
Now I must sterilize the intravenous tubes.
It seems the black van has disappeared after a record eleven days. And I seem to have blacked out after a few days, as I did on the previous two occasions. I must have eaten, though, as I have only lost 35 kilos, which is, if memory serves, slightly less than last time. This time I can even see, although my vision is quite blurred. I expect it will return to normal in a few days.
I was rather surprised, when I came to, to find myself in the basement with a barely living cat attached to two intravenous tubes - to which I as well was attached, naturally. I must have done it while barely conscious, for the tube which was supposed to carry blood from the cat to me was inserted the wrong way in the cat -
with the blood instead of
against it, so that no blood entered it. The tube carrying blood from me to the cat, however, was inserted correctly.
The cat was quite unappetizing, although somewhat arousing. At first I was unsettled by this, but then I asked myself who really wants to eat what is arousing.
That would have been cause for worry. I buried the cat in the garden, next to the television, which I did not consider safe to exhume. I will, perhaps, acquire another, although I am not certain that any television will be safe from their mind-control rays.
I also intend to visit the hospital - not the one I visited last time, I can assure you - for a blood transfusion. I would have done it today, but I am still weak, and I must eat and rest. I very much look forward to it.
Other than that, I am feeling quite well, having once again defeated my enemies.
However, there is no trace of the dog. I wonder where it is.
My name is Thomas Tannenbaum. I live in Germany with a dog. And I am afraid I have made a terrible mistake.
