Doc And Owen

“To be well adjusted and successful in a toxic and narcissistic society is not a sign of mental well-being.”

“How many times are you going to tell yourself that, Owen?”

“I don't know, Doc . . . I keep hearing it in my head over and over again. It's true, isn't it?”

“It might be true, or it might just be a way for you to rationalize your own failures and low social status.”

“Yeah . . . Or that.”

“And you'd be suggesting that being mentally unwell is what an intelligent and self-aware person would inevitably become in today's Western society. The healthy are unhealthy and the unhealthy are healthy? It's a paradox, Owen. And it's not a good way to look at life.”

“Goddamn paradoxes . . . People are really out there loving the biggest phonies, Doc. It's all a game and all you have to do to play is sell yourself. The biggest phonies win the game, Doc, not the genuine and kind people in the world. We praise the winners. And society breeds greedy narcissists who cling to their social status like a babe does a tit.”

“The winners are the real losers and the losers—or those that refuse to play—are the real winners?”

“I know it sounds dumb, Doc . . .”

“Owen . . . Are you alright?”

“I don't know, Doc . . .”

“What's been going on?”

“This book I've been working on has me a little more lost than usual.”

“Lost in what way?”

“Every way, Doc.”

“Tell me about the book. Why are you lost because of it?”

“Golly, Doc, it's crazy. It's insane. I never should've started it. It was supposed to be a fun thought experiment . . . It was meant to help me . . . But now, Doc, it's done the opposite. I went to heaven and I thought I should go to hell, too . . . To see both sides. To understand . . . He's dead, Doc. Sacrificed. Lucy killed him.”

“Who's dead, Owen?”

“The Fighter.”

“What do you mean Lucy killed him?”

“In a fight for control of the timeline. He held him against the side of a mountain and smashed his face in. And then he tossed him aside like some lifeless toy. He died in a puddle of his own blood.”

“Jesus, Owen . . .”

“Yeah, about him . . . The Writer went to go meet him and Nietchze in hell. That wasn't a good idea, Doc. You really shouldn't volunteer to go to hell. Let me tell you something, Doc, you really shouldn't go to hell. It's not a pleasant place.”

“No shit, Owen!! What the hell are you thinking?? Playing with fire like this . . . it's dangerous, Owen. I understand your recent bout with cynicism now. You need to get out of hell.”

“I’m almost out, I think. It's hard to write, Jesus, Freddie, Lucy and the Big Guy, though.”

“Holy shit, Owen, what is this book??”

“It's the sequel, Doc.”

“The sequel to what??”

“. . . To The Canary.”

“What's ‘The Canary’??”

“. . . I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Ha.”

-CH 4/12/25