The Thanatos Syndrome

movies?”
    Mrs. Cheney doesn’t mind telling me. “They show the regular movies for the children in the ballroom and the staff watches the videos up there.”
    â€œYou mean upstairs here?”
    â€œYou know, they take videos of the children and the staff sees them to check on their progress, you know, like home movies.” Mrs. Cheney has turned the cards face down and now stands up, face flushed. “All right, Ricky.”
    Ricky starts picking up cards, first four aces, shows them to us in his perfunctory way, stacks them against his stomach, then four deuces.
    â€œWell, I be dog,” says the uncle. “That’s the smartest thing I ever saw.”
    â€œWhere does he get his vitamins, Mrs. Cheney?” I ask.
    â€œRight there.” She nods to the bank of water coolers. “They all do. It’s enriched Abita Springs water, for little growing brains and strong little bodies. You can see what it does.”
    â€œEnriched by what?”
    â€œVitamins and all. You know, Doctor.”
    â€œHow much do they drink?”
    â€œEight glasses a day. And I mean eight, not seven.”
    Ricky picks up four sixes, shows them, stacks them.
    â€œDo you drink it too?”
    â€œMe? Lord, Doc, what’s the use? It’s too late for me. We are too old and beat-up.”
    â€œWhy, you’re a fine-looking woman,” says the uncle, his face keen, and begins blowing a few soft duck calls through his fingers.
    Is Mrs. Cheney winking at me?
    â€œMrs. Cheney, call the big house and get Claude. Ask for Dr. Van Dorn or whoever, but I want Claude. Now.”
    â€œWhat, and interrupt sardines up in the attic. They would have a fit.”
    â€œI see. I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Cheney,” I say, changing my voice.
    â€œWhat’s that, Doctor?”
    â€œI want you to go over to the big house and find Claude Bon and bring him back here.”
    â€œOh, I couldn’t do that, Doc!” cries Mrs. Cheney.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m not supposed to leave Ricky.”
    â€œWe’ll look after him.”
    â€œNo, I’m not allowed to do that.”
    â€œMrs. Cheney, get going. Now.”
    Both Vergil and the uncle look at me when my voice changes.
    â€œAll right, Doctor!” says Mrs. Cheney, smile gone, but not angry so much as resigned. “As long as you take the responsibility.”
    â€œI take it.”
    â€œIt may take a while to find him.”
    â€œI’m sure you’ll manage.”
    â€œAll right!” Her voice is minatory, but she leaves.
    â€œHow can you talk that way to Mrs. Cheney?” the uncle asks me. “I mean she’s one fine-looking woman.”
    I don’t answer. We are watching Ricky pick up cards. Vergil is frowning.
    â€œIf that ain’t the damnedest thing I ever saw,” says the uncle. “That boy ain’t even concentrating.”
    â€œHe doesn’t have to,” I say. Somehow it is difficult to take my eyes from the back of Ricky’s slender neck.
    Ricky picks up kings, shows them, sits around cross-legged, evens up the cards against his chest to make a neat deck.
    â€œRicky.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œCome over here and sit by me.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Ricky sits on the plastic sofa close to me, legs sticking straight out. He’s got a seven-year-old’s guarded affection: You may be all right, I think you are, but— He hands me the deck, looking up, big head doddering a little. I flip through the deck, showing Vergil and the uncle. “That’s very good, Ricky. Say, Vergil—”
    â€œYes, Doc.”
    â€œYou notice anything unusual about the water fountains?”
    â€œThere’s that tube coming down from the ceiling behind the drinking fountains.”
    â€œYeah. It’s clamped off with a hemostat, isn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what let’s do. You listening, Uncle?”
    â€œSho I’m listening. But you tell me how in the hell that boy did that. I don’t think he knows himself, do you, Ricky?”
    Ricky looks up at me but doesn’t reply.
    â€œVergil, you go upstairs and take a look around. Look for the source of whatever is coming down that tube. Look for tapes, video cassettes, photos, transparencies, anything like that. Books, comics, and such.”
    â€œOkay.” He starts for the iron stairs.
    I look at my watch. “I