A Doctor's Hope for Housing

The Task-Master requested I report on a Subject whom he has recently regained particular interest in. I was reluctant to examine him in person, as there had already been much drivel of dubious scientific value documented on his behavior by highly competent and distinguished colleague 'psychiatrists' employed by the Task-Master. I felt little more could possibly be said or withheld. Nonetheless, the Task-Master's insistence that I weigh in on diagnosing this enigmatic Subject compelled me to meet with him.

Alexander has been my most difficult Task-Patient. He only refrains from taking his medication when he wants to save "capital" for his "collaborators' tables." I knew that one day, something would motivate him beyond the medication that, I admit, I am responsible for prescribing to him. I ordered it weeks ago to calm his thoughts, never imagining that he would become dependent on a drug with such moderate psychotropic effects. That’s when I realized his main character trait is attachment. An excessive attachment, to the point of adopting compulsive behavior toward anything that gives him the most pleasure at the moment.

Yesterday, he told me he had slept the night before but wasn’t sure how it had happened. He had spent a cold night as a passenger on a municipal bus, dozing off throughout the ride. Without money, drivers would occasionally wake him just to force him off and then allow him to board the same bus again at the end of the line. I had tried to instill in him the critical importance of restorative sleep for his mental well-being.

Recently, he returned to his favorite library after enduring a period when, for various reasons, he could not access its resources. In possession of a considerable amount of his medication, he neglected the Task several times over the last three days, depriving himself of pocket money in exchange for more time at the library to continue his “research.”

I believe in his ability to overcome his psychological difficulties, provided the State, the Task-Master, or a charitable organization provides him with stable housing. For fifteen years, he has lived a nomadic life—sleeping under the stars, in shelters, all-night market when he can hide from security or furtively in various other locations. Restorative sleep in a fixed place would be key for him to reduce his anxiolytic medication use, become a better Subject, and, overall, make better decisions in his daily life.

His own Journal speaks for itself:

I succumbed to exhaustion, so here I am. I had sworn to prioritize sleep, yet I failed. Today, I collapsed on the train, squandering hours that could have been spent collecting or resting properly at the Task's location. The rhythmic clatter of the train and the acrid smell of unwashed bodies served as a stark reminder of my predicament.

I had also vowed never to transact beyond my means. As the Captain—my erstwhile mentor with his weather-beaten face and eyes that had seen too much—taught me, I should engage in commerce with amounts allowing for at least a hundred transactions before depleting my capital. Yet yesterday and today, I risked excessive sums per transaction, my limited resources be damned.

The motivation behind these imprudent decisions was a burning desire to return to the market in the woods—that mystical place where the air thrums with possibility and the collaborator's tables beckon with promises of wealth. It's the cradle of my entrepreneurial education and the site of my greatest triumphs, including the most recent one that left me giddy with success.

I crave funds for those tables, and I want them with haste! Nowhere else do I feel more alive, more myself. The rustle of bills, the clinking of coins, the tension around the tables—it's intoxicating. Nowhere else do I sense my place in the universe with such clarity.

"You're chasing a pipe dream, kid," the Captain's voice echoes in my head. But what does he know? He's content with his small-time hustles and measured risks. I want more. These past two nights, I felt that saving and slowly accumulating capital was a pursuit for old men like him.

So here I am again, destitute, reposing in the park. At least the weather is impeccably pleasant—a gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to my circumstances. I now have the opportunity to meditate, a luxury I haven't enjoyed in quite some time. Sometimes I think that is the secret to success, this forced stillness.

I reminisce about the days, years ago, when I needed only ten or twelve dollars for traveling to the market. Now I need at least sixty just to get there and have a modest sum for transactions. Since people rarely carry cash anymore, this task has become nearly insurmountable. My modus operandi, like all things, must evolve.

But what lies ahead? Traditional employment is out of the question. Even if I could tolerate it, I fear I'd become as embittered and disagreeable as everyone I encounter. People can't naturally be that way; their livelihoods must have shaped them thus. Besides, no one has ever gotten rich working a job.

As night falls and the park empties, a plan begins to form in my mind. I should raise funds for my trip East now. I need to see what's there. Can't get too comfortable in one spot. Collecting or attracting cash here cannot last. If things don't work out East, I'd like to pass through on my way back West. It's best not to ignite anymore vessels.

Tomorrow, I'll go before the committee at the Task's location. I must get something since I'm lodging there. The hospitality may not last with the aggressive fellow-participant staying there now. I'll just tell them what I need and if I get less, I'll get a weekly bus pass and some new clothes. It may be possible to get my phone bill covered, as well.

A fellow participant gave me some new shirts after the Task, solving half the clothing issue. Due to seemingly miraculous happenstance, I once again acquired the materials necessary to attract money to myself. Medication acquired, I'll put a hold on the plans of yesterday.

I've noticed the aggressive guy leaves consistently around 6:00 AM, presumably to complete some other tasks. Perhaps the possibility of attracting money there is not completely annulled by his presence.