"I'm a historical psychologist," I told him. "That sounds in my line.
Which of your ancestors are you interested in having me analyze?"
"I used the word 'atavism' to mean a reversion to the primitive."
I made a pencil mark on my desk pad. I could make notes as well as he
could read them.
"Yes, I see," I murmured. "We don't use the term that way. Perhaps you
don't understand my work. It's been an honest way to make a living for a
few generations but it's so specialized it might sound foolish to
someone outside the psychological industry. I psychoanalyze historical
figures for history books (of course), and scholars, interested
descendants, what all, and that's _all_ I do."
"All you _have_ done," Madison admitted, "but your government is certain
that you can do this new work for them--in fact, that you are one of the
few men prepared to locate this esoteric--that is, this odd aberration
since I understand you often have to deal with it in analyzing the past.
Doctor, we want you to find us a lonely man."
I laid my chrome yellow pencil down carefully beside the cream-colored
pad.
"History is full of loneliness--most of the so-called great men were
rather neurotic--but I thought, Madison, that introspection was pretty
much of a thing of the, well, past."
The government representative inhaled deeply and steepled his manicured
fingers.
"Our system of childhood psycho-conditioning succeeds in burying
loneliness in the subconscious so completely that even the records can't
reveal if it was ever present."
* * * * *