The same words, almost the same tone of voice he had used minutes ago in the lab. And then I heard my answers-childish, impossible things. And I dropped limply into the chair beside Professor Nemur’s desk. “Was that really me?” I went back to the lab with Burt, and we went on with the Rorschach. We went through the cards slowly. This time my responses were different. I “saw” things in the inkblots. A pair of bats tugging at each other. Two men fencing with swords. I imagined all sorts of things. But even so, I found myself not trusting Burt completely any more. I kept turning the cards around, checking the backs to see if there was anything there I was supposed to catch. I peeked, while he was making his notes. But it was all in code that looked like this: WF + A DdF-Ad orig. WF-A SF + obj The test still doesn’t make sense. It seems to me that anyone could make up lies about things he didn’t really see. How could they know I wasn’t making fools of them by saying things I didn’t really imagine?
Maybe I’ll understand it when Dr. Strauss lets me read up on psychology. It’s getting harder for me to write down all my thoughts and feelings because I know that people are reading them. Maybe it would be better if I 41 could keep some of these reports private for a while. I’m going to ask Dr. Strauss. Why should it suddenly start to bother me?
April 21-I figured out a new way to set up the mixing machines in the bakery to speed up production. Mr. Donner says he will save labor costs and increase profits. He gave me a fifty-dollar bonus and a ten-dollar-a-week raise. I wanted to take Joe Carp and Frank Reilly out to lunch to celebrate, but Joe had to buy some things for his wife, and Frank was meeting his cousin for lunch. I guess it will take time for them to get used to the changes in me. Everyone seems frightened of me. When I went over to Gimpy and tapped him on the shoulder to ask him something, he jumped up and dropped his cup of coffee all over himself. He stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking. Nobody at the place talks to me any more, or kids around the way they used to. It makes the job kind of lonely.
Thinking about it makes me remember the time I fell asleep standing up and Frank kicked my legs out from under me. The warm sweet smell, the white walls, the roar of the oven when Frank opens the door to shift the loaves. Suddenly falling… twisting.. everything out from under me and my head cracking against the wall.
It’s me, and yet it’s like someone else lying there-another Charlie. He’s confused… rubbing his head . staring up at Frank, tall and thin, and then at Gimpy nearby, massive, hairy, gray-faced Gimpy with bushy eye-brows that almost hide his blue eyes. “Leave the kid alone,” says Gimp. “Jesus, Frank, why do you always gotta pick on him?”
“It don’t mean nothing,” laughs Frank. “It don’t hurt him. He don’t know any better. Do you, Charlie?” 42 Charlie rubs his head and cringes. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this punishment, but there is always the chance that there will be more. “But you know better,” says Gimpy, clumping over on his orthopedic boot, “so what the hell you always picking on him for?” The two men sit down at the long table, the tall Frank and the heavy Gimp shaping the dough for the rolls that have to be baked for the evening orders.
They work in silence for a while, and then Frank stops and tips his white cap back. “Hey, Gimp, think Charlie could learn to bake rolls?” Gimp leans an elbow on the worktable. “Why don’t we just leave him alone?”
“No, I mean it, Gimp-seriously. I bet he could learn something simple like making rolls.”
The idea seems to appeal to Gimpy who turns to stare at Charlie. “Maybe you got something there. Hey, Charlie, come here a minute.” As he usually does when people are talking about him, Charlie has been keeping his head down, staring at his shoelaces. He knows how to lace and tie them. He could make rolls. He could learn to pound, roll, twist and shape the dough into the small round forms.
Frank looks at him uncertainly. “Maybe we shouldn’t, Gimp. Maybe it’s wrong. If a moron can’t learn maybe we shouldn’t start anything with him.”
