Flowers for Algernon

Talking back to Matt this way, she becomes relaxed and sure of herself again. When she lets go of Charlie, he goes to the corner and stands against the wall frightened and shivering. “Look,” she says, “you got him upset again.”

“Me?”

“You always start these things in front of him”

“Oh, Christl Come on, let’s get this damned thing over with.” All the way to Dr. Guarino’s office they avoid speaking to each other. Silence on the bus, and silence walking three blocks from the bus to the downtown office building. After about fifteen minutes, Dr. Guarino comes out to the waiting room to greet them. He is fat and balding, and he looks as if would pop through his white lab jacket. Charlie is fascinated by the thick white eyebrows and white moustache that twitch from time to time. Sometimes the moustache twitches first, followed by the raising of both eyebrows, but sometimes the brows go up first and the moustache twitch follows. The large white room into which Guarino ushers them smells recently painted, and it is almost bare — two desks on one side of the room, and on the other, a huge machine with rows of dials and four long arms like dentist’s drills. Nearby is a black leather examination table with thick, webbed, restraining straps.

“Well, well, well,” says Guarino, raising his eyebrows, “so this is Charlie.” He grips the boy’s shoulders firmly. “We’re going to be friends.”

“Can you really do anything for him, Dr. Guarino?” says Matt. “Have you ever treated this kind of tbung before? We don’t have much money.” The eyebrows come down like shutters as Guarino frowns. “Mr. Gordon, have I said anything yet about 95 what I could do? Don’t I have to examine him first? Maybe something can be done, maybe not. First there will have to be physical and mental tests to determine the causes of the pathology. There will be enough time later to talk of prognosis. Actually, I’m very busy these days. I only agreed to look into this case because I’m doing a special study of this type of neural retardation. Of course, if you have qualms, then perhaps… “ His voice trails off sadly, and he turns away, but Rose Gordon jabs at Matt with her elbow. “My husband doesn’t mean that at all, Dr. Guarino. He talks too much.” She glares at Matt again to warn him to apologize. Matt sighs. “If there is any way you can help Charlie, we’ll do anything you ask. Things are slow these days. I sell barbershop supplies, but whatever I have I’ll be glad to—”

“Just one thing I must insist on,” says Guarino, pursing his lips as if making a decision. “Once we start, the treatment must continue all the way. In cases of this type, the results often come suddenly after long months without any sign of improvement. Not that I am promising you success, mind you. Nothing is guaranteed. But you must give the treatment a chance, otherwise you’re better off not starting at all.”

He frowns at them to let his warning sink in, and his brows are white shades from under which his bright blue eyes stare. “Now, if you’ll just step outside and let me examine the boy.”

Matt hesitates to leave Charlie alone with him, but Guarino nods. “This is the best way,” he says, ushering them both outside to the waiting room. “The results are always more significant if the patient and I are alone when the psychosubstantiation tests are performed. External distractions have a deleterious effect on the ramified scores.”

Rose smiles at her husband triumphantly, and Matt follows her meekly outside.

Alone with Charlie, Dr. Guarino pats him on the head. He has a kindly smile. “Okay, kid. On the table.”

When Charlie doesn’t respond, he lifts him gently onto the leather-padded table and straps him down securely 96 with heavy webbed straps. The table smells of deeply ingrained sweat, and leather. “Maaaa!”

“She’s outside. Don’t worry, Charlie. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“Want Ma!” Charlie is confused at being restrained this way. He has no sense of what is being done to him, but there have been other doctors who were not so gentle after his parents left the room.

Guarino tries to calm him. “Take it easy, kid. Nothing to be scared of. You see this big machine here? Know what I’m going to do with it?” Charlie cringes, and then he recalls his mother’s words. “Make me smart.”

“That’s right. At least you know what you’re here for. Now, just close your eyes and relax while I turn on these switches. It’ll make a loud noise, like an airplane, but it won’t hurt you. And we’ll see if we can make you a little bit smarter than you are now.”

Guarino snaps on the switch that sets the huge machine humming, red and blue lights blinking on and off. Charlie is terrified. He cringes and shivers, straining against the straps that hold him fast to the table. He starts to scream, but Guarino quickly pushes a wad of cloth into his mouth. “Now, now, Charlie. None of that. You be a good little boy. I told you it won’t hurt.”