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Show Moon -125 was Protection. "It isn't as awful as it looks," he said. "They welcome the restraint, believe me." But Joy did not believe. The other patients, many of them still in their teens, were sewing or knitting, looking decorous under the watchful eye of the nurses. But when they saw Joy, they flung down their work and flocked around her like hungry birds, lifting her skirt, touching her hair, peering into her face. One of the young ones, a girl dainty and lovely as a butterfly, snatched up a pair of sewing scissors and pointed it at Joy's throat. Mark stepped away and seemed to be watching to see what she'd do. Joy stood quietly, forcing herself to be calm. She looked into the girl's eyes and saw a glint of mischief. This allowed Joy to smile in a way that felt real. The girl smiled back and laid the scissors down. "My name's Sheila," she said. "Welcome to our home." As Joy and Mark turned to leave, Sheila rushed up and tugged at Joy's arm. "You smiled at me. You understand." Joy felt a surge of pleasure at this compliment. Then Mark laughed and said to Joy, "Maybe you're sick, too." For the first time that day, Joy felt real fear. Mark took her arm and led her to the door. "She'll be getting shock treatment," he said. "It takes away the memory, a good thing for someone like her." "Who is someone like her?" Joy wondered. "Someone kept in a room too small?" Joy pulled away from Mark and thought, "Who are we, if not our memories? Even bad memories; it's all we know." She imagined her memories spread out before her on a table like scraps of cloth and wood and twisted wires, some rusty screws. A person could make a nice sculpture or a collage. Take it all away and there's nothing left to work with. |