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"People who have all drunk from the same well."
"Exactly," said Zedka. "They think they're normal, because they all do the same thing. Well, I'm going to pretend that I have drunk from the same well as them."
"I already did that, and that's precisely my problem. I've never been depressed, never felt great joy or sadness, at least none that lasted. I have the same problems as everyone else."
For a while Zedka said nothing; then: "They told us you're going to die."
Veronika hesitated for a moment. Could she trust this woman? She needed to take the risk.
"Yes, within about five or six days. I keep wondering if there's a way of dying sooner. If you, or someone else, could get me some more pills, I'm sure my heart wouldn't survive this time. You must understand how awful it is to have to wait for death; you must help me."
Before Zedka could reply, the nurse appeared with an injection.
"I can give you the injection myself," she said, "or, depending on how you feel about it, I can ask the guards outside to help me."
"Don't waste your energy," said Zedka to Veronika. "Save your strength, if you want to get what you asked me for."
Veronika got up, went back to her bed, and allowed the nurse to do her work.
It was her first normal day in the mental hospital. She left the ward, had some breakfast in the large refectory where men and women were eating together. She noticed how different it was from the way these places were usually depicted in films--hysterical scenes, shouting, people making demented gestures--everything seemed wrapped in an aura of oppressive silence; it seemed that no one wanted to share their inner world with strangers.
AFTER BREAKFAST (which wasn't bad at all; no one could blame Villete's terrible reputation on the meals) they all went out to take the sun. In fact there wasn't any sun--the temperature was below zero, and the garden was covered with snow.
"I'm not here to preserve my life, but to lose it," said Veronika to one of the nurses.
"You must still go out and take the sun."
"You're the ones who are crazy; there isn't any sun."
"But there is light, and that helps to calm the patients. Unfortunately our winter lasts a long time; if it didn't, we'd have a lot less work."
It was useless arguing; she went out and walked a little, looking around her and surreptitiously seeking some way of escaping. The wall was high, as required by the builders of the old type of barracks, but the watchtowers for the sentries were empty. The garden was surrounded by military-looking buildings, which now housed the male and female wards, the administrative offices, and the employees' rooms. After a first, rapid inspection, she noticed that the only place that was really guarded was the main gate, where everyone who entered and left had their papers checked by two guards.
Everything seemed to be falling into place in her mind again. In order to exercise her memory, she began trying to remember small things, like the place where she used to leave the key to her room, the record she'd just bought, the last book she was asked for at the library.
"I'm Zedka," said a woman, approaching.
The previous night Veronika hadn't been able to see her face as fully; she had crouched down beside the bed all the time they were talking. Zedka must have been about thirty-five and seemed absolutely normal.
"I hope the injection didn't bother you too much. After a while the body gets habituated, and the sedatives lose their effect."
"I'm fine."
"About our conversation last night, do you remember what you asked me?"
"Of course I do."
Zedka took her by the arm, and they began to walk along together, among the many leafless trees in the courtyard. Beyond the walls you could see the mountains disappearing into the clouds.
"It's cold, but a lovely morning all the same," said Zedka. "Oddly enough I never used to suffer from depression on cold, gray, cloudy days like this. I felt as if nature was in harmony with me, that it reflected my soul. On the other hand, when the sun appeared, the children would come out to play in the streets, and everyone was happy that it was such a lovely day, and then I would feel terrible, as if that display of exuberance in which I could not participate was somehow unfair."
Delicately Veronika detached herself from the woman. She didn't like physical contact.
"You didn't finish what you were saying. You were saying something about what I asked you last night."
"There's a group of people here, men and women who could have left, who could be back home, but who don't want to leave. There are many reasons for this: Villete isn't as bad as people say, although it's far from being a five-star hotel. Here inside, everyone can say what
they like, do what they want, without being criticized. After all, they're in a mental hospital. Then, when there are government inspections, these men and women behave like dangerous maniacs, because some are here at the state's expense. The doctors know this, but there must be some order from the owners that allows the situation to continue, because there are more vacancies than there are patients."
