After dinner several of the patients came, one by one, to say good-bye. They all seemed sad, as if they might rather stay if conditions were otherwise. But perhaps they just wanted to express their thanks and hint that they would miss those of us who had tried unsuccessfully to help them. In any case they had all made the decision to go, and weren’t about to change their minds. Their leader in this unified front was Howard, who summed up their feelings this way: “For the first time in our lives, we’ll be able to create new memories.”
When the evening finally came to a close I was almost afraid to take to my nice, soft bed. I had had nightmares the evening before; who knew what terrible dreams I would have this night, filled with barely-overcome horrors, harsh disappointments, unfulfilled desires. I was lucky to have a wonderful wife and family, and good health for my age, but was that only a hologram masking what was really lurking just below the surface? Nevertheless, I finally turned off the light and closed my eyes.
It wasn’t long before I was awakened by fled. Or perhaps it was only a dream, though I hadn’t had any mushrooms for days. “It’s time,” she whispered.
I sat up in my white hospital pajamas. “I thought you’d never leave.”
“Keep working on that sense of humor, doctor b. And by the way, you look cute in those.”
“Thank you. Everything is arranged, then?”
“Not only arranged, but the canyon is full and everyone else is in the lounge waiting for me. I just stopped in to say farewell.”
“You couldn’t find a way to cure any of them?”
“You saw the holograms, gene. Even if I could cure them, they’d rather be somewhere else. They don’t seem to like this PLANET for some reason.”
“And the other 99,900 or so?”
“Them, too.”
“Can you tell me: are they all mental patients?”
She seemed puzzled. “Not to my knowledge.”
There didn’t seem to be much more to say. I offered a hand, which she didn’t take. Instead, she leaned over whispered, “Last chance for a quickie!” I could smell her breath, which reminded me of a fresh salad.
“No, thanks. It’s tempting, but no thanks.”
“It’s your loss.” She kissed me on the cheek. It was wet and sloppy, like Filbert’s, but warm and tender, too. As she turned around to leave, she called over her shoulder, “Come up and see me sometime.”
After she had gone I found the blood and urine samples she had left on the little end table.
I dressed quickly, but was too late. According to the night crew, fled had reappeared briefly in the lounge, where she found Howard and the others waiting with their little traveling bags. Most were sound asleep. A moment later they were gone.
* * *
Early that morning we took stock. Missing from the hospital were all the patients (except Jerry and Georgie) I have described in this book, including old Mrs. Weathers, who apparently decided to have one last fling after all, as well as most of the other residents of the Manhattan Psychiatric Institute. All left their rooms clean and tidy except for Darryl, who had torn all his pictures of Meg Ryan into little bits and tossed them everywhere. His floor was a confetti of shattered hopes and dreams. There was no trace of the little cakes and cookies, however.
I was surprised that Barney went with them—he had finally found something to awaken his sense of humor. But maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe his deeper unhappiness, whatever its origin (perhaps underneath it all he abhorred the thought of going into the family dry cleaning business) couldn’t be overcome by a few laughs. Or perhaps fled convinced him that there was far more genuine humor on K-PAX than on Earth, where most people will laugh at almost anything, even if it isn’t funny, to momentarily mask their chronic sadness. Charlotte and former patient Ed went along, too. I hope they find the peace they desperately needed and longed for. What I hadn’t expected, however, was that Kathy Rothstein embarked on the journey as well, along with former colleague Arthur Beamish and some of the nurses. As did our perky secretary, Margie Garafoli. Underneath her bubbly exterior must have simmered a cauldron of pain and suffering.
Despite the loss of a few of the staff members, Goldfarb wasn’t disappointed with this turn of events. On the contrary she was delighted, as any good psychiatrist would have been, that most of her charges had finally found a measure of peace, and maybe even happiness, somewhere, anywhere. “Now,” she calmly observed, “we have room for a few new patients. A hundred and ten, to be precise.”
It wasn’t until I got home later that morning that I found an e-mail message on my computer:
to my dear gene with love (whatever that means)
thank you for putting me up
your friend fled
ps the door to K-PAX is always open for you
* * *
The media reports were sketchy. For one thing, there were no reporters at the Grand Canyon in the predawn hours and no one witnessed the event except, perhaps, for a few sleepy burros (for all we know some of them might have gone along, too). For another, barely a handful of notes were left by the travelers for worried families or places of employment. Only gradually did it become clear that the 100,000 “people” fled had taken with her were almost entirely great apes: chimpanzees (including Filbert and, of course, Dr. Tewksbury), gorillas, orangutans. Most of these came from the mountains and jungles of Africa and Southeast Asia, though many of the zoos and research laboratories around the world reported missing animals as well (although fled didn’t mention this to me, she must have visited quite a few of those during her visit). There was a great outcry among the researchers involved, most of whom were heavily funded by government grants, lamenting the theft of their “property.” The zoos, too, loudly resented the taking of their prime exhibits, complaining primarily about the expense of replacing them.
But maybe fled had little choice. Perhaps hardly any of Earth’s humans were able to fulfill the requirements for the trip. How many pacifist, agnostic vegans with two children or less are there in the world, anyway? Well, at least one. Our daughter Abby managed to be invited along on the trip, and is, at this moment, somewhere on K-PAX. Steve was quite upset by this at first—she didn’t tell him she had applied—but he soon became too busy to dwell on it. And when he finally found time to do so, he was very proud and happy for her. In any case, she left a note explaining that she would be back “in a few years.” Perhaps she’ll accompany Giselle and Gene when they make their promised return visit. In the meantime, we all miss her terribly.
The rest of the story we learned from fled’s website, which she had somehow updated at the last minute while traveling the world accumulating her fellow passengers. To explain why she regarded her travel companions as “people,” I quote directly from the site:
… The great apes share between 96% and 99% of the human genome. Homo sapiens are genetically more closely related to the chimpanzees than are two species of finch! They share with you many emotions that are indistinguishable from your own: they feel pain and anguish, they intensely love their children, feel deep fears, form close friendships, and grieve the loss of a parent or sibling (sometimes to the death). By your own standards of measurement, the IQ’s of the ape species are equivalent to those of human children. They are curious about their environment and hate being bored (in this regard, of course, they are different from most sapiens). And, like humans, they can sometimes be cruel and devious. Go to an ape prison [zoo or laboratory] and look into their eyes. What you will see is yourselves looking back.