head_psychic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
head_psychic) wrote2007-12-04 02:17 pm
head_psychic) wrote2007-12-04 02:17 pm
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#204 - Insanity - (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse)
Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane.
Philip K. Dick
"You've heard about Kant, right?"
Stare.
"Immanuel Kant? The, uh, philosopher?"
Folded arms. Stare.
Doctor Sutton smiled nervously. "He, um, said that reality as such doesn't exist because we all create our own reality. Fascinating, isn't it?"
"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off or are you just an idiot?"
"Excuse m-"
"Not gonna happen. Now listen closely, pal," Henry Spencer said in a low voice, invading Sutton's personal space, while pointing to the door on the left. "I don't give a rat's ass about any dead philosopher of yours. My son is in there, babbling more nonsense than all those stupid people on TV altogether. You tell me what's going on with him right now, in plain, American terms, or you'll be very sorry. You got that?"
"Of course." Sutton nodded and swallowed, straightening a tie he was not wearing. "Where to start. See, the mind works with a perception, a so-called "reality" to create meaning and sense. Doing so our brain is constantly busy interpreting things. Now everybody interprets differently and therefore every mind creats an individual construct of reality. Hence the Kant reference."
Stare.
"Right. No philosophers. What I mean is, only a certain amount of information actually reaches the point where we notice it. We're constantly surrounded by countless stimuli, let them be visual, acoustical, tactile..." The doctor cleared his throat. "It is very important that all of this is 'filtered'. Our synapses are responsible for that. They decide whether to forward the information or to repress it. Otherwise there would be such a sensory overload, such an overstimulation... nobody could handle that."
Spencer frowned, but didn't interfere or yell.
Encouraged, Sutton continued, his voice gaining strength and confidence. "We think that your son got a shock. We don't know why and so far he has been unable to tell us but something happened, something that triggered him and makes him somehow, subconsciously think everything is important. It seems to be so vitally important to him that his mind started to try taking in everything. Which, in return, has led to the point where he simply couldn't deal with it anymore."
"So that's why," Henry muttered to himself. When he noticed Sutton's quizzical look he straightened up. "Anything else?"
"Now your son, see..." Sutton nervously licked his lips. "He's a... a psychic, right?"
A moment of reluctant hesitance passed over Henry's face. "Why? That important for his treatment?"
"Not really, it's... we just can't make sense of some things that happened. I know most people in this hospital frown at the supernatural. I do not. Actually, I do have a degree in parapsychology. A minor degree, that is, but-"
"Do I look like I care?"
"No. No, you don't. What I am trying to say is, I, I think that his psychic reception, if there is such kind of thing, is clotting his mind even more. But nobody is going to listen to that. All we know is that the usual treatment doesn't improve anything. We can't figure out the problem that causes him to... well, I assume his state of mind is an attempt to protect himself."
"I see." Henry nodded absently. "So, what are you gonna do about it then?"
The doctor went very silent, repeating the stupid movement with his nonexistant tie.
Henry glared at him. "I asked you a question!"
When the incredible amount of authority hit him straight in the face Sutton could do nothing but wince. "We don't know," he replied honestly.
"You don't know? How come you don't know?" Henry stepped forward threateningly. "What are you trying to say?"
"The official... I'm sorry... the overall results of the last days..." Sutton took a deep breath and cursed whoever had brought up the idea of pulling straws about this. "Your son, Mr. Spencer, has gone insane."
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 637
Philip K. Dick
"You've heard about Kant, right?"
Stare.
"Immanuel Kant? The, uh, philosopher?"
Folded arms. Stare.
Doctor Sutton smiled nervously. "He, um, said that reality as such doesn't exist because we all create our own reality. Fascinating, isn't it?"
"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off or are you just an idiot?"
"Excuse m-"
"Not gonna happen. Now listen closely, pal," Henry Spencer said in a low voice, invading Sutton's personal space, while pointing to the door on the left. "I don't give a rat's ass about any dead philosopher of yours. My son is in there, babbling more nonsense than all those stupid people on TV altogether. You tell me what's going on with him right now, in plain, American terms, or you'll be very sorry. You got that?"
"Of course." Sutton nodded and swallowed, straightening a tie he was not wearing. "Where to start. See, the mind works with a perception, a so-called "reality" to create meaning and sense. Doing so our brain is constantly busy interpreting things. Now everybody interprets differently and therefore every mind creats an individual construct of reality. Hence the Kant reference."
Stare.
"Right. No philosophers. What I mean is, only a certain amount of information actually reaches the point where we notice it. We're constantly surrounded by countless stimuli, let them be visual, acoustical, tactile..." The doctor cleared his throat. "It is very important that all of this is 'filtered'. Our synapses are responsible for that. They decide whether to forward the information or to repress it. Otherwise there would be such a sensory overload, such an overstimulation... nobody could handle that."
Spencer frowned, but didn't interfere or yell.
Encouraged, Sutton continued, his voice gaining strength and confidence. "We think that your son got a shock. We don't know why and so far he has been unable to tell us but something happened, something that triggered him and makes him somehow, subconsciously think everything is important. It seems to be so vitally important to him that his mind started to try taking in everything. Which, in return, has led to the point where he simply couldn't deal with it anymore."
"So that's why," Henry muttered to himself. When he noticed Sutton's quizzical look he straightened up. "Anything else?"
"Now your son, see..." Sutton nervously licked his lips. "He's a... a psychic, right?"
A moment of reluctant hesitance passed over Henry's face. "Why? That important for his treatment?"
"Not really, it's... we just can't make sense of some things that happened. I know most people in this hospital frown at the supernatural. I do not. Actually, I do have a degree in parapsychology. A minor degree, that is, but-"
"Do I look like I care?"
"No. No, you don't. What I am trying to say is, I, I think that his psychic reception, if there is such kind of thing, is clotting his mind even more. But nobody is going to listen to that. All we know is that the usual treatment doesn't improve anything. We can't figure out the problem that causes him to... well, I assume his state of mind is an attempt to protect himself."
"I see." Henry nodded absently. "So, what are you gonna do about it then?"
The doctor went very silent, repeating the stupid movement with his nonexistant tie.
Henry glared at him. "I asked you a question!"
When the incredible amount of authority hit him straight in the face Sutton could do nothing but wince. "We don't know," he replied honestly.
"You don't know? How come you don't know?" Henry stepped forward threateningly. "What are you trying to say?"
"The official... I'm sorry... the overall results of the last days..." Sutton took a deep breath and cursed whoever had brought up the idea of pulling straws about this. "Your son, Mr. Spencer, has gone insane."
Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 637