Read The Madman's Tale for Free Online Page A

Yes. Incidentally, Mister Petrel, can you tell me what the date is?”
    “The date?”
    “Correct. The date of this argument you had today.”
    He thought hard for a moment. Then he looked outside again, and saw the tree bending beneath the wind, moving spastically, as if its limbs were being jerked and manipulated by some unseen puppeteer. There were some buds just forming on the ends of the branches, and so he did some calculations in his head. He concentrated hard, hoping that one of the voices might know the answer to the question, but they were, as was their irritating habit, suddenly quite silent. He glanced about the room, hoping to spot a calendar, or perhaps some other sign that might help him, but saw nothing, and returned his eyes to the window, watching the tree move. When he turned back to the doctor, he saw that the round man seemed to be patiently awaiting his response, as if several minutes had passed since he was asked the question. Francis breathed in sharply.
    “I’m sorry …,” he started.
    “You were distracted?” the doctor asked.
    “I apologize,” Francis said.
    “It seemed,” the doctor said slowly, “that you were elsewhere for some time. Do these episodes happen frequently?”
    Tell him no!
    “No. Not at all.”
    “Really? I’m surprised. Regardless, Mister Petrel, you were to tell me something …”
    “You had a question?” Francis asked. He was angry with himself for losing the train of their conversation.
    “The date, Mister Petrel?”
    “I believe it is the fifteenth of March,” Francis said steadily.
    “Ah, the ides of March. A time of famous betrayals. Alas, no.” The doctor shook his head. “But close, Mister Petrel. And the year?”
    He did some more calculations in his head. He knew he was twenty-oneand that he’d had his birthday a month earlier, and so he guessed, “Nineteen seventy-nine.”
    “Good,” Doctor Gulptilil replied. “Excellent. And what day is it?”
    “What day?”
    “What day of the week, Mister Petrel?”
    “It is …” Again he paused. “Saturday.”
    “No. Sorry. Today is Wednesday. Can you remember that for me?”
    “Yes. Wednesday. Of course.”
    The doctor rubbed his chin with his hand. “And now we return to this morning, with your family. It was a little more than an argument, wasn’t it, Mister Petrel?”
    No! It was the same as always!
    “I didn’t think it was that unusual …”
    The doctor looked up, a slight measure of surprise on his face. “Really? How curious, Mister Petrel. Because the report that I have obtained from the local police claims that you threatened your two sisters, and then announced that you were intending to kill yourself. That life wasn’t worth living and that you hated everyone. And then, when confronted by your father, you further threatened him, and your mother, as well, if not with an attack, then with something equally dangerous. You said you wanted the whole world to go away. I believe those were your exact words. Go away. And the report further contends, Mister Petrel, that you went into the kitchen in the house you share with your parents and your two younger sisters, and that you seized a large kitchen knife, which you brandished in their direction in such a fashion that they believed that you intended to attack them with the weapon before you finally threw it so that it stuck into the wall. And, then, additionally, when police officers arrived at the house, that you locked yourself in your room and refused to exit, but could be heard speaking loudly inside, in argument, when there was no one present in the room with you. They had to break the door down, didn’t they? And lastly, that you fought against the policemen and the ambulance attendants who arrived to help you, requiring one of them to need treatment himself. Is that a brief summary of today’s events, Mister Petrel?”
    “Yes,” he replied glumly. “I’m sorry about the officer. It was a lucky punch that caught him above