Flowers for Algernon

“Everything but treat me as a human being. You’ve boasted time and again that I was nothing before the experiment, and I know why. Because if I was nothing, then you were responsible for creating me, and that makes you my lord and master. You resent the fact that I don’t show my gratitude every hour of the day. Well, believe it or not, I am grateful. But what you did for me-wonderful as it is-doesn’t give you the right to treat me like an experimental animal. I’m an individual now, and so was Charlie. before he ever walked into that lab. You look shocked! Yes, suddenly we discover that I was always a person-even before-and that challenges your belief that someone with an I. Q. of less than 100 doesn’t deserve consideration. Professor Nemur, I think when you look at me your conscience bothers you.”

“I’ve heard enough,” he snapped. “You’re drunk.”

“Ah, no,” I assured him. “Because if I get drunk, you’ll see a different Charlie Gordon from the one you’ve 172 come to know. Yes, the other Charlie who walked in the darkness is still here with us. Inside me.”

“He’s gone out of his head,” said Mrs. Nemur. “He’s talking as if there were two Charlie Gordons. You’d better look after him, doctor.” Dr. Strauss shook his head. “No. I know what he means. It’s come up recently in therapy sessions. A peculiar dissociation has taken place in the past month or so. He’s had several experiences of perceiving himself as he was before the experiment-as a separate and distinct individual still functioning in his consciousness-as if the old Charlie were struggling for control of the body”

“No! I never said that! Not struggling for control. Charlie is there, all right, but not struggling with me. Just waiting. He has never tried to take over or tried to prevent me from doing anything I wanted to do.” Then, remembering about Alice, I modified it. “Well, almost never. The humble, self-effacing Charlie you were all talking about a while ago is just waiting patiently. I’ll admit I’m like him in a number of ways, but humility and self-effacement are not among them. I’ve learned how little they get a person in this world.

“You’ve become cynical,” said Nemur. “That’s all this opportunity has meant to you. Your genius has destroyed your faith in the world and in your fellow men.”

“That’s not completely true,” I said softly. “But I’ve learned that intelligence alone doesn’t mean a damned thing. Here in your university, intelligence, education, knowledge, have all become great idols. But I know now there’s one thing you’ve all overlooked: intelligence and education that hasn’t been tempered by human affection isn’t worth a damn.” I helped myself to another martini from the nearby sideboard and continued my sermon.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I said. “Intelligence is one of the greatest human gifts. But all too often a search for knowledge drives out the search for love. This is something else I’ve discovered for myself very recently. I present it to you as a hypothesis: Intelligence without the ability to give and receive affection leads to mental and moral breakdown, to neurosis, and possibly even psychosis. And I say that the mind absorbed in and involved 173 in itself as a self-centered end, to the exclusion of human relationships, can only lead to violence and pain.

“When I was retarded I had lots of friends. Now I have no one. Oh, I know lots of people. Lots and lots of people. But I don’t have any real friends. Not like I used to have in the bakery. Not a friend in the world who means anything to me, and no one I mean anything to. “ I discovered that my speech was becoming slurred, and there was a lightness in my head. “That can’t be right, can it?” I insisted. “I mean, what do you think? Do you think that’s… that’s right?”

Strauss came over and took my arm.

“Charlie, maybe you’d better lie down a while. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Why y’all looking at me like that? What did I say wrong? Did I say something wrong? I din’t mean to say anything that wasn’t right.” I heard the words thick in my mouth, as if my face had been shot full of novocaine. I was drunk-completely out of control. At that moment, almost with the flick of a switch, I was watching the scene from the dining room doorway, and I could see myself as the other Charliethere near the sideboard, drink in hand, eyes wide and frightened.

“I always try to do the right things. My mother always taught me to be nice to people because she said that way you won’t get into trouble and you’ll always have lots of friends.”

I could see by the way he was twitching and writhing that he had to get to the bathroom. Oh, my God, not there in front of them. “Excuse me, please,” he said, “I got to go…” Somehow, in that drunken stupor, I managed to turn him away from them and head him toward the bathroom. He made it in time, and after a few seconds I was again in control. I rested my cheek against the wall, and then washed my face with cool water. Still groggy, but I knew I was going to be all right.