The Patient
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: genius


“He’s right through here, sir,” the doctor said. The elkhound he was escorting nodded, and the feline doctor led him down an antiseptically white corridor to a closed door. The doctor eased open a small hatch set into the upper half of the door and beckoned. “Here you are.”

The elkhound, a representative of the Nobel Committee, peered in to see a gaunt bear in a straitjacket, facing a corner of the padded cell and rocking back and forth slightly. His ears flicked forward as he caught the sound of the patient mumbling to himself. “To think,” the canine said softly, “he’s the one who completed the Grand Unified Theory.”

“And the Crochet Equations that sorted out superstring theory,” the feline added.

“And enabled the world to develop cheap, clean energy.” The elkhound retreated from the window and looked at the doctor. “What happened to him?”

The feline’s tail twitched. “From what we can tell from his notes – “

“His notes? I didn’t see any paper in there.”

“And you won’t. He tried to commit suicide by papercut six months ago. He uses his toes to type on a specially shielded laptop,” the doctor explained. “But from what we can tell, he’s trying to devise a law of selective gravitation.”

“’Selective’ gravitation?”

The feline nodded. “Apparently, it was because he’d just buttered a slice of toast, and dropped it.”

“Ah.” The Norwegian sighed. “Well, there’s a fine line between high intelligence and insanity.”

“Yes, more like a tightrope,” the doctor said as he closed the window and the two went back up the hallway, “and he’s obviously fallen off. Everyone knows that toast lands butter side down because the butter adds more mass on one side.”

A thin, quavering scream echoed down the hall behind them, and the doctor realized that he’d spoken too loudly.


end