Death's Dimensions

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For Sam, Neil, Andy, Charles, Chris, John, and Bob,who put up with me at the AnarchoVillagewhile I wrote this p^an to madness.And also for Bernie,who probably should not read this a second time.

7 March, 2107

His death wish surpassed that of any mortal. And yet it bestowed upon him—and only him—the power of flight between the stars.

He was Virgil Grissom Kinney, and he was insane beyond hope.

Caged and bound in a madhouse he festered like a scorned, feared animal. In an age when madmen were almost unknown, he was a ranting exception. Sometimes he raged against his restraints with muscle-tearing fury. Other times he retreated into catatonic silence, conducting a silent, internal war.

Drugs, nutrition, therapies from Freud to Szasz to Bhodhota all proved useless.

Virgil Grissom Kinney wanted only one thing from life.

At a time when people left one another alone to do as they pleased, no one would have cared or interfered if Virgil wanted only to kill himself, yet in an era without police or prisons, Virgil Grissom Kinney lay locked behind padded walls, screaming without sound, tortured without pain.

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