Lunatic Fringe

Chapter 5

ALEISTER

            A few years back, I found myself waiting in a doctor’s office. The reason I was there isn’t all that important. It was something I just did a lot of. Waiting in doctor’s offices, I mean. Part of the joy that was my life. Huge chunks of time shot to hell sitting in rooms that seemed designed by the same person. All whites and pastels, soothing colors made to help you forget that you were waiting to see someone whose job was to keep you from going bat-shit crazy.

            I guess that’s what always pissed me off about these places. Did they really think we weren’t in on the joke? That perfect color coordination and simple, cheery tones were distracting enough to make you forget that your mind had turned on you? Paint it anyway you want, this still was a place of the lost. Sell your bullshit to the believers, just don’t assume I’m one of them.

            As you can guess, the attitude I had coming in the door made me real popular with the staff. My disinterest mirrored back at me in the bored faces of the nurses guarding the office like trolls, the bored doctor who would have you diagnosed, scripted and out the door in the time it’d take to fill up your car with gas.

            There was no such thing as identity here. You were just a product coming off the line. Knowing that made it easier to take. Besides, it didn’t matter much. All I wanted were my meds. The visits were nothing but pretense. Choreographed questions of “is this working,” “is this not working,” “any side effects.” They pretended to give a shit, and I did the same. All I wanted were my meds. If that meant shucking and jiving until they were satisfied, so fucking be it.

            I remember this visit because it was noteworthy for being so un-noteworthy. The décor was late 20th century bored, the patients were faceless and the brochures on the new pills that they were trying to pimp were uninspired. Things I was used to and, more important, had come to expect.

            The thing that really stuck in my mind was their magazine collection.

            As anonymous as I was to the doctors who treated me, I’ve got to confess that they were just as anonymous to me. I couldn’t really tell one from the next. No attributes or quirks lodged in my mind enough for me to distinguish one from the next. If I didn’t have my day planner with each appointment written down with their name and office number, there’s a better than average chance I’d forget about them completely.

            Until my meds ran low. That’s when the panic set in.

            Since my expectations were so low, I started categorizing doctors based on the magazine selection they had spread out. It was my grading system. The doctor could have been a complete dick, but if they had a good magazine selection, I’d usually give them a pass. Probably a shit way to judge someone’s ability, but it worked for me.

            I tended to appreciate a wide selection. Usually meant that the clientele was a bit more diverse. If it was a diverse crowd, it meant the doctor was a bit more popular. Now popularity doesn’t necessarily mean good, but their ability wasn’t really a concern of mine. I just wanted my scripts.

            This particular office had a magazine selection with nice coverage. Celebrity rags, some news periodicals and a few sports magazines. I even saw a couple of medical journals. Most of them were well-read, but they were current. This was another bonus point in the doctor’s favor. The variety led me back to my original diversity theory. He/she/it obviously catered to all walks. Something for the snobs and something for the commoners.

            I started in the shallow end of the pool, thumbing through the tabloids before moving to the new magazines and finishing it all off with the sports editions. Nothing really caught my attention enough for me to spend more than a few moments considering it before throwing it aside in favor of another. Pretty soon, I’d managed to decimate the pile and was left with a single magazine that I’d purposely ignored from the beginning: the medical journal.