Diagnosis

Venovano vsem milovanym, ktere kvuli geocachingu zanedbavame.
"Nebojte, my vam nejsme neverni. Realita je daleko horsi..."

Ad undas

Nick sedel shrbeny u sveho pocitace a tupe ziral do monitoru. Hrobove ticho jeho pracovny na okamzik prerusilo slabe pipnuti. Za chvili bude svitat. Nastenne hodiny s fluorescentnimi klingonskymi cislicemi pripominaly, ze uz davno mel spat. Obrazovka pocitace prave vykreslovala nepravidelne krivky na zelenobilem podkladu. Sem tam ikonka domecku nebo auta a obcas puntik s titulkem zacinajicim GC...

Mihotave svetlo obrazovky prozrazovaly obrysy predmetu na pracovnim stole. Otluceny mobil na stosu navlhlych papiru, celova svitilna, jakasi krabicka s poutkem, digitalni fotoaparat. Vedle spinavy batoh s bodlaky na popruhu. Nekolik vybitych baterek v dusivem sevreni tluste encyklopedie. A vsude spacky okousanych tuzek.

Nick smutne mzoural na podivne obrazce. Byl zoufaly. Nemohl se soustredit. Zena se chce rozvest. Ze pry ji zanedbava. Ze uz ji nebavi varit, kdyz stejne nedorazi vcas na veceri. Ze uz nechce prat a zehlit jen proto, aby zase prisel domu jako blativa koule. Vcera dopadla posledni kapka. Nestastnou nahodou mu prisla na jeho tajnou sifru, kterou tak pracne vyperforoval do padesati metru toaletniho papiru. Co naplat, ze byla v ASCII.

Nickova mysl se presunula do jineho sveta. Deti ho vidavaly jen kdyz obcas opustil pracovnu a vzal je s sebou na lov krabicek. Krabicky, krabicky, ...

Nick uz davno prestal komunikovat s ostatnimi lidmi. Sousedi ho povazovali za podivina. Vracel se domu za hlubokych noci a potom jeste dlouho dlil ve sve pracovne. Zhubnul. Chtel si poridit SIRF VIII, aby ho satelity navedly az ke dverim lednicky, ale pak uz to neslo. Nemel za co. Pred mesicem ho vyhodili z prace.

Zamestnavateli se nelibilo Nickovo chovani. Prestaval se soustredit. Co naplat, ze mel skoly i praxi, kdyz v uredni korespondenci pouzival hebrejstinu, cislice psal jen rimsky a porady si kratil piskvorkami na dernych stitcich. Zpocatku si z nej kolegove delali legraci, kdyz i za slunnych dnu prichazel do prace s natrhlymi nohavicemi a v zablacenych botach. V kasmirovem obleku prochazel rostim, prohmataval okapy, studoval mrize kanalu a neustale se ohlizel, zda ho nekdo nesleduje. Nickova kariera skoncila presne v den, kdy na sefovu vytku zareagoval signalizovanou morseovkou.

Rodina v troskach, bez prace a aby toho nebylo malo... Pripravil si krabicku. Vlozil do ni minci. Skatulku ale nekde ukryl, aniz si poznamenal jeji souradnice. Boze! Nemohl si za nic na svete vzpomenout, kam ji jen mohl schovat. To je konec.

Znavene Nickovo telo se na zidli sesunulo. Zarudle oci prekryla ztezkla vicka. Hlava mu bezvladne padla na klavesnici. Kursor se rozbehl po obrazovce a cestou zapisoval tu znamou sifru vycerpani:

C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg_

Ex internis

Nick se probudil v bile mistnosti. Lezel pohodlne v kovove posteli s okrouhlym celem. Na sobe mel zelinkave pyzamo s cislem na kapsicce. Ocima sjel od polstrovanych dveri az k oknu s nerozbitnymi tabulkami. Nikde zadna hrana. Zamrizovanym vyhledem se dival do parku. Znal ho duverne. Kdysi tu behal s tim pristrojem na krku a s encyklopedii. Krasne stromy...

Usmal se, kdyz si vzpomnel, jak si s kamarady delali legraci, ze tu jednou skonci. Dnes je zde hostem. Ma tu sve vlastni luzko a na jeho cele cedulku: "Nick Orth, narozen ..., hospitalizovan ..., bip. afekt. porucha, tezka deprese s psychotickymi symptomy".

* * * * * *

Mesice mijely a Nickuv stav se postupne zlepsoval. Velkou zasluhu na tom mela jeho osetrujici, doktorka Flaviova. Krasna, vzdelana zena. Mela pro nej jakousi zvlastni slabost. Jeji stribrity stetoskop Nickovi vzdy pripadal jako nejcennejsi nahrdelnik na svete. Citil se dobre. Dostaval pravidelnou stravu. Poznal nove pratele. Oblibil si Napoleona a jeho vyroky, kterym se vzdycky zasmal. Se Stravinskim si obcas zahrali na rozladene piano ve spolecenske mistnosti. S Nobelem zase v kurarne staveli perpetuum mobile. Uz chybelo malo a rozbehlo by se. Opravdu!

Bylo mu fajn.

* * * * * *

Nickova terapie probihala skvele az do dne, kdy na vedlejsi pokoj c. 14 prijali noveho pacienta. Divny patron to byl. Tvrdil, ze jeho dedecek byl svetoznamy chemik. A proto taky nereagoval, pokud ho neoslovovali plnym jmenem i s tituly: "akademik profesor doktor Emil Eastman Kozliczek". Emil znal ustav jako sve boty. Byl tu uz po petadvacate. Predchozi pobyty si vyslouzil za to, ze kradl v supermarketech potravinove nadobky a v prodejnach s nabytkem si plnil kapsy tuzkami. Tentokrat ho ale pridelili do jineho pavilonu. Akademikovi se zdalo, ze vsude vidi nejake skatulky a pri jejich lovu neznal zabran. Primar Schaumann to klasifikoval jako "poruchu s bludy".

Vsichni muzi na oddeleni se radi nechali unaset poprsimi mladych sestricek. Pri kazde prilezitosti se je taky pokouseli placnout po zadku. Dokonce si vedli tajne statistiky. Za kazdou trefu carka. Za mlasknuti na bozsky vykrouzeny zadecek doktorky Flaviove byl bonus.

Kozliczek se hry na placanou neucastnil. Plne se soustredil na svuj vyzkumny projekt s nazvem "Mysterium anorganickych sterbin". Emil osahaval radiatory. Sestricky akademika nechavaly zcela chladnym. Tvrdil, ze na nich nemuze nic byt, protoze jejich souradnice jsou volatilni. Emil Kozliczek stale vzhlizel ke stropu a tise mrucel: “Jak muzu na efffteeefffka, kdyz nemam signal. Nemam signal...”

De integro

Uz bylo dlouho po vecerce. Nick jako vzdy lezel ve sve kovove posteli a pozoroval stromy v mesicnim svitu. Jeho oci prave tekaly po krasnem exemplari Fagus sylvatica Atropunicea, kdyz vrzly dvere. Do mistnosti tise vplula doktorka Flaviova. Dlouhe blond vlasy mela proti predpisum rozpustene. Byla nadherna jako vzdycky.

“Vy jeste nespite?” spitla a usmala se tak, jak to umi jen Mona Lisa. Nick pouze zavrtel hlavou a cosi nevrle zamrucel na jeji vlidny pozdrav. Byl cely rozruseny. Dnes mu doktorcin ustavni plast nepripadal jako andelske roucho. Nevnimal jeji plne rty, o nichz drive tak snil.

Doktorka Flaviova se dlouze zadivala na Nicka. V ocich mela otazku, ale nevyrkla ji. Znala odpoved. Na moment uhnula pohledem, aby si tajne otrela zvlhle oci. Pak uz se jen utrpne usmala a rozechvelym hlasem vzdychla: "Jsem rada, ze se Vam u nas libi." Jemnou rukou s dlouhymi prsty mu pristrcila vecerni davku medikamentu.

Nick pilulky poslusne spolknul a zapil je jako u svateho prijimani. Bez svych barevnych bobulek by dnes asi neusnul. Tolik se tesi na zitrek. Jsou vychazky a navic mu akademik Kozliczek slibil ukazat misto, kde pry videl jeho...

...ztracenou krabicku.

Diagnosis

Dedicated to all our beloved who are neglected because of our geocaching.
"Don’t worry, we are not unfaithful. The reality is much worse…"

Ad undas

Nick sat hunched at his computer and blankly watched its screen. The gravely silence was interrupted by a weak beep for a while. The sun was going to rise soon. A wall clock with fluorescent clingon digits reminded him that he should have slept alrady a long time ago. The screen was drawing erratic curves on a green-white background. There was an occasional icon of a house or a car. Some places were marked by a flag with a title beginning with GC…

The twinkling light of the screen illuminated the outlines of items on the working desk. A battered cell phone on a pile of damped papers, a headlight, some box with a tie, a digital camera. There was a dirty back-pack with thistles on its strap next to them. A few flat batteries in a suffocating press of a fat encyclopedia. Nibbled stubs everywhere.

Nick sadly blinked at the peculiar diagrams. He couldn’t concentrate. His wife wanted a divorce. She complained of being forgotten. She couldn’t enjoy cooking under the condition of his late arrivals. She doesn’t want to launder and iron his clothes, because a muddy ball returns home instead of her husband. The climax was reached yesterday. Coincidentally, she discovered his secret cipher perforated into fifty meters of toilet paper. Bad luck. The proper ASCII coding was not a mitigating circumstance.

Nick’s mind has moved to a different world. His children spotted him only occasionally and only under condition that they accompanied him while hunting for boxes. Boxes, boxes, boxes...

His neighbors considered him as a stranger. He arrived home late night and he spent a lot of time in his working room. Nick thinned out. He intended to purchase the new SIRF VIII gadget, but it wasn’t possible. He ran out of money. They bounced him last month.

His employer didn’t like his behavior. Nick has lost concentration. What of his education and experience if he used Hebrew in official communication. He wrote Roman digits exclusively. He killed the boredom of meetings by solving esoteric puzzles. His colleagues made fun of him since he arrived to work in burst trousers and muddy shoes. Nick passed trashes in a cashmere business suit, he explored eaves, he studied gutters, and he never stopped chopping around to watch whether someone isn’t watching him. Nick’s career ended exactly the day when he signaled a Morse code to his angry boss.

The family in debris, no job, and to really hit the fan… He prepared a geocache. He inserted a coin inside. He hid the box somewhere while forgetting to write down the coordinates. Oh, my goodness! He couldn’t recall where he had hidden it. This is the curtain-fall.

Nick’s beaten down body subsided at the chair. The reddish eyes were covered by laden eyelids. His head passively fell to the keyboard. The cursor started running on the screen in order to code the notoriously known cipher of exhaustion:

C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
C:\>gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg_

Ex internis

Nick woke up in a white room. He rested comfortably in an iron bed with rounded facing. He had a greenish night-suit with a number on its pocket. His eyes slipped from the padded doors to the window with unbreakable glass. There was no single sharp edge. A grilled outlook led to a park. Nick knew the park very intimately. He remembered himself walking through the wood while hunting for the Crazy Dendrologist geocache. Wonderful trees…

He cracked a smile as he recalled how he made fun of the fact that he would end up right here. The bad joke went through. He became a guest. He has his own bed with here. The schedule at the front of the bed says "Nick Orth, born…, hospitalized…, Bipolar affective disorder, severe depression with psychotic symptoms".

Times passed and Nick’s health condition gradually improved. Doctor Flavi - a charming and cultivated woman - had the greatest merits for his healing. She had some special weakness for him. Nick loved her very much. He considered her silvery stethoscope as the most beautiful necklace. He felt good. They provided him with regular food. He made a few new friends. He liked Napoleon and his funny pronouncements. From time to time, he and Stravinski played an out of tune piano in the common room. Together with another guy, who called himself Alfred Nobel, he constructed a perpetuum mobile. Just a few bits and pieces were missing. It almost worked. Really!

Nick was fine.

* * * * * *

Nick’s therapy went excellent until a new patient was admitted to the room No. 14. He was strange. He didn’t respond to anybody if they didn’t call him by his full name accompanied with all titles "professor doctor Emil Eastman Kozliczek". He was familiar with the asylum. It was his twenty fifth stay here. They admitted him because of his notorious stealing of food boxes and graphite pencils in the supermarkets. This time it was different. Professor had some odd visions of cans. He felt absolutely no scruples while hunting for his imaginary boxes. Dr. Schaumann, the head physician, called it as a "Delusional disorder"

To be finished soon...

De integro

* * * * * *