The Dark Tower

He tells them of his first few shifts in The Study, and his realization — not gradual but almost immediate — that they are not here to search out spies or read the thoughts of Russian scientists, “or any of that space-shot nonsense,” as Dinky would say (not that Dinky was there at first, although Sheemie was). No, what they are doing is breaking something. He can feel it, not just in the sky above Algul Siento but everywhere around them, even under their feet.

Yet he is content enough. The food is good, and although his sexual appetites have subsided quite a bit over the years, he’s not a bit averse to the odd bonk, just reminding himself every time that sim sex is really nothing but accessorized masturbation. But then, he’s had the odd bonk with the odd whore over the years, as many men living on the road have, and he could testify that that sort of sex is also not much different than masturbation; you’re putting it to her just as hard as you can, the sweat pouring off you, and she’s going “Baby-baby-baby,” and all the time wondering if she ought to gas the car and trying to remember which day is double stamps at the Red & White. As with most things in life, you have to use your imagination, and Ted can do that, he’s good at the old visualization thing, thank you oh so very much. He likes the roof over his head, he likes the company — the guards are guards, yeah, but he believes them when they say it’s as much their job to keep bad stuff from getting in as it is to make sure the Breakers don’t get out. He likes most of the inmates, too, and realizes after a year or two that the inmates need him in some strange way. He’s able to comfort them when they get the mean reds; he’s able to assuage their crampy waves of homesickness with an hour or so of murmured conversation. And surely this is a good thing. Maybe it’s all a good thing — certainly it feels like a good thing. To be homesick is human, but to Break is divine. He tries to explain to Roland and his tet, but the best he can do, the closest he can come, is to say it’s like finally being able to scratch that out-of-reach place on your back that always drives you crazy with its mild but persistent itch. He likes to go to The Study, and so do all the others. He likes the feeling of sitting there, of smelling the good wood and good leather, of searching…searching…and then, suddenly, aahhh. There you are. You’re hooked in, swinging like a monkey on a limb. You’re breaking, baby, and to break is divine.