A carriage pulled up behind the doctor's manor. The doctor could see this from his drawing room as he pretended to eat a maple soup. Placing a few leaves under his seat, he got up and put on clothing. He could tell it was Master Barbary below, a gentleman one would not want to attend to while improperly clothed.
With his fanciful dress and plasticine carnation, Master Barbary appeared not only to be a man of the city, but also a man of this particular city. His money came from across a sea, in a large vault, but nonetheless, this general area was his home. The doctor knew this, but did not particularly care.
"The days, they are getting shorter," Master Barbary began. "On this side of the globe, at least. Soon the trees will sprout their white flowers and legs and whatnot."
"Don't look to me for opinions about that sort of thing," he warned. "Cycles of nature are well beyond my control. Well beyond my scope. So, let's just keep things at that, agreed?"
"Agreed," replied the doctor in agreement.
"I walk the city streets, watching out for the rick-shaws, free primates, reptilian transports. I'm no fool, mind you. I appreciate self preservation," he clarified. "Nonetheless, I walk the streets most days and I notice the changes that happen. To the sky, to the air, the precipitation,to the sun and moon. They fluctuate each day."
The doctor could do nothing but agree. He did, however, remain seated with his back to Master Barbary, who went on.
"At times I can pluck my dinner from a vine, or at the very least remove a mango from the ground, discarding unwanted roots. At other times I reach up and find no fruit, but merely cut my finger on a thorn. At other moments still, I look and see no vines, but concrete slabs. Needless to say, they bear no edible fruits."
The doctor began to switch his attention to the metal gyroscope on his mantle. He remarked at how it complemented the small porcelain figure of a camel that he had stolen from a library in a foreign country. He wondered what might have been put in its place, if anything. He returned to Master Barbary, this time facing him and looking him square in the eye.
"So now that the winds grow meaner, now that the trees grow thinner, what of me? What am I to do?" asked Master Barbary.
The doctor though, was unsure of the answer and vaguely aware of the question. His flask was empty and his leg ached. Of that he was sure.
"You're biting off more than you can chew, Master Barbary, more than you are advised to. We've had such discussions in the past. Now, instead of reworking past conversations, stating facts, procedures and pleasantries, I feel obliged to remind you that this is an office of medicine. What goes on here is based on scientific models, time-tested treatments and my own expertise. I will not be undermined by the likes of you," he said while slowly moving a paperweight. He stood up and sat on the edge of his desk. Looking at Master Barbary still, he continued.
"The problems you express are complicated, but not without remedy." He paused and sat gazing at the fragile Master Barbary.
"What might that remedy be?" asked the patient in question. Tilting his head, the doctor sternly continued.
"I'm speaking, Master Barbary. Mind my brief intermissions or direct yourself to the exit sign. Your condition, pitiable and perverse as it is, can be solved with my help and with possible extractions from your change purse, but that will come later. First and foremost, I need to set up, without delay, a strict routine of self improvement and mental exercises. This is imperative."
A smile grew upon Master Barbary's brows. A noise also grew from the small time recording apparatus at the edge of the doctor's desk.
"Time's up. Lock the door on your way out," stated the doctor while throwing on an overcoat, turning off his lamp and heading toward the window.
Miss Marilla Huxley shot her head in quickly.
"Hurry!" she exclaimed, and the doctor did, descending a rope ladder. He ran across a gravel area and disappeared into a nearby patch of forest.
|
