"You understand, Mrs. Stanton," said the psychiatrist, "that a great part
of Martin's trouble is mental as much as physical. Because of the nature
of his ailment, he has withdrawn, pulled himself away from communication
with others. If these symptoms had been brought to my attention earlier,
the mental disturbance might have been more easily analyzed and treated."
"I'm sorry, Doctor," said Mrs. Stanton. Her manner betrayed weariness and
pain. "It was so--so difficult. Martin could never talk very well, you
know, and he just talked less and less as the years went by. It was so
gradual that I never really noticed it."
_Poor woman_, the doctor thought. _She's not well, herself. She should
have married again, rather than carry the whole burden alone. Her role as
a doting mother hasn't helped either of the boys to overcome the handicaps
that were already present._
"I've tried to do my best for Martin," Mrs. Stanton went on unhappily.
"And so has Bart. When they were younger, Bart used to take him out all
the time. They went everywhere together. Of course, I don't expect Bart to
do that so much any more; he has his own life to live. He can't take
Martin out on dates or things like that. But when he's home, Bart helps me
with Martin all the time."
"I understand," said the doctor. _This is no time to tell her that
Bartholomew's tests indicate that he has subconsciously resented Martin's
presence for a long time. She has enough to worry about._
"I don't understand," said Mrs. Stanton, breaking into sudden tears. "I
don't understand why Martin should behave this way! Why should he just sit
there with his eyes closed and ignore us both?"
The doctor comforted her in a warmly professional manner, then, as her
tears subsided, he said: "We don't understand all of the factors
ourselves, Mrs. Stanton. Martin's reactions are, I admit, unusual. His
behavior doesn't quite follow the pattern that we usually expect from such
cases as this. His physical disability has drastically modified the course
of his mental development, and, at the same time, makes it difficult for
us to make any analysis of is mental state."
"Is there _any_thing you can do, Doctor?"
"We don't know yet," he said gently. He considered for a moment, then
said: "Mrs. Stanton, I'd like for you to leave both the boys here for a
few days, so that we can perform further tests. That will help us a great
deal in getting at the root of Martin's trouble."
She looked at him with a little surprise. "Why, yes, of course. But ...
why should Bart stay?"
The doctor weighed his words carefully before he spoke.
"Bart is our control, Mrs. Stanton. Since the boys are genetically
identical, they should have been a great deal alike in personality if it
hadn't been for Martin's accident. In other words, our tests of Bart will
tell us what Martin _should_ be like. That way we can tell just how much
and in what way Martin deviates from what he should ideally be. Do you
understand?"
"Yes. Yes, I see. All right, Doctor--whatever you say."
After Mrs. Stanton had left, the psychiatrist sat quietly in his chair and
stared thoughtfully at his desk top for several minutes. Then, making his
decision, he picked up a small book that lay on his desk and looked up a
number in Arlington, Virginia. He punched out the number on his phone, and
when the face appeared on his screen, he said: "Hello, Sidney. Look, I
have a very interesting case out here that I'd like to talk to you about.
Do you happen to have a telepath who's strong enough to take a meshing
with an insane mind? If my suspicions are correct, I'll need a man with an
impregnable sense of identity, because he's going to get into the weirdest
situation I've ever come across."