The Caterpillar of
Doctor Weiss
The doctor looked at
me strangely. He was dressed in white robes and leaning confidently
behind his desk. He looked like any specialist in internal medicine
who had amassed great benefits from his practice.
- "What are you
complaining about?," he asked me
slowly.
- "Well, I don't
particularly want anything," I replied.
He looked slightly
puzzled and said nothing. Then he stared out of the window. Outside,
nature was spilling over and new life was beginning. Somewhere on one
of the plants crawled a very large, clumsy and colorful caterpillar.
It was so fat that it hardly moved. But it diligently continued on
its route. It chased its target and somehow kept its balance so it
wouldn't fall.
- "You know your
problem doesn't seem to me to be serious?," replied Dr Weiss,
"On the whole, I have met with far more serious cases in my
practice. You're just in a mild form of depression or something.
Perhaps I should refer you to another specialist."
- "That would be
the best thing to do," I added, "That sounds reasonable.
His office was more
than well-equipped, and I clearly sensed that behind his confident
exterior, this man had hidden himself there simply because he didn't
know how to fit into society otherwise. On his walls were hung
numerous diplomas and certificates. Somewhere in there were
certificates for multiple language courses, from which I deduced that
Dr. Weiss was a polyglot.
- "Well, that's
generally it," the
specialist briefly finished his talk and started writing some
prescription.
- "Doctor, before
I leave, I want to ask you something,"
somehow I suddenly got excited.
- "Tell me,"
he turned around with a slight annoyance.
He was a foreigner who
had come for a year's specialisation in the capital and he was just a
bit bored of dealing with routine cases like mine as it was somehow
below his level. He was dreaming of his former glory. He wanted to be
the center of attention again.
- What's the
difference between a man and a caterpillar?
Had thunder crashed it
would hardly have made any impression on him. Doctor Weiss really
wondered what to answer. Not that he didn't know the answer, but he
was hesitant.
- "You see,"
he began, "the caterpillar is very ugly from our point of view.
Its existence was not so important. She is a pest and a parasite. And
man is the apex of nature."
- "Yes, but a
butterfly might come out of it," I persisted.
- "There's the
problem," Dr Weiss became very serious and somewhat grim, "you
don't know. She's just a gluttonous consumer."
We shook hands and
parted. I got out and started the car. I saw Vitosha in the distance.
The slopes of the mountain were covered with snow. I carefully drove
down the road. Doctor Weiss had a nice little cottage that he had
bought with his hard earned money. He was just wondering what to do
with all his wealth and liked to do things he enjoyed. He didn't seem
to be married, but he didn't seem worried about that fact either. His
deep understanding of life was simply being good at his job. That was
enough for him, and it filled him to the brim.
Driving down the
highway, I noticed I was still wearing my summer tires. It could have
been trouble, so I slowed down and sort of condescended, aware of my
infraction.
A deer came out in
front and I just about ran her over.
I swerved slightly and
stopped. The rain was spitting, but the car was well insulated and
there was no danger to me.
Deep down, though, I
realized the doctor was right. The caterpillar could have come out
her prettiest butterfly, and it could have gotten uglier.
I had to get back to
work on the construction site. It occurred to me that he had reached
the pinnacle of his career and now he was just wondering what to fill
his time with while I had yet to accomplish anything.
The boss scolded me
and kind of got upset after I told him about my little road accident.
- "I wish he had
taken the subway at least. You wouldn't have done Hollywood stunts on
the way," he quipped and shuffled off somewhere without
bothering with me any more.
Deep down, I suspected
today would bring a surprise.
On the way back I
stopped at a hospital where I was working as an orderly, as
construction work was seasonal.
Doctor Weiss popped up
right behind me. He seemed totally absorbed in something - as usual.
- "I didn't
expect to see you here, Doctor," I tried to be polite, "You're
not used to leaving your office."
- "You are right.
I live a little detached from reality,"
the doctor mumbled and left.
I returned home and
tried to prepare my dinner. Nothing special - some vegetables and
meat. Prices were rising day by day so vegetables dominated the menu.
There was a rumble of
thunder somewhere in the east. Quite a grey and dull day. I realized
that I had forgotten to pay my bills and went to the appropriate
institutions. And again I came across Dr. Weiss. Here I now
understood that there was nothing accidental. Twice might not have
been coincidence, but three whole times!
- "Are you
following me?," I countered.
- "There is no
such thing," the
doctor excused himself and disappeared again somewhere.
A few days passed. I
had to go to his office again for some medicine. When I looked at his
villa, it was empty. It was as if no one had ever lived there.
There was a small
envelope on the door. I opened it and read.
"My dear patient,
Thank you for opening
my eyes to the fact that there are more important things than money
and profession. Helping others, for example. When you dropped in on
your boss, you could have bailed, but you helped your co-workers and
stayed after hours. When you went to the hospital, you were fined for
being late and subsequently had to make up work again. When you
bought your dinner, you left some of it for some hungry kids at the
shelter near you. And I stay and waste my time with nothing and no
specialization. I should be much more useful to society. And do
something to live again. It's not you who's insane, it's me, your
doctor. You don't need a diagnosis. You're perfectly healthy!"
Then I walked into the
yard behind the cottage. The garden was extremely strange and full of
rare Japanese plants. Apparently Doctor Weiss loved Eastern culture.
I continued along the
beautiful gravel-strewn path, surrounded by exotics. The doctor, who
had specialized in the United States, knew well what aesthetic taste
meant.
I found him prostrate
in the middle of the garden, like a sack of potatoes. His face
expressed a recent death. The doctor lay as pale as a beaten dog.
Evidently Bulgarian reality had not borne with him. As well as many
foreigners by the way.
There was a note on
his chest:
"Death steps in at
this hour.
I feel it now.
And I have no hope,
I just can't stop it!"
The poetic note seemed
rather strange, but I inwardly decided it was high time to deal with
the whole harsh reality. It was really scary. The Doctor had glazed
over his eyes and had a peculiar grimace on his face.
I thought to myself,
"Watch what diagnoses you make, Doctor." Then naturally I
called the police. The cops came quickly enough. They all knew their
duties well. Once they had cordoned off the area, the forensic
doctors arrived.
They took him to
Forensic Medicine, where they did an autopsy.
-
"I wonder what he really died of?,"
wondered one of the forensic doctors. It doesn't look like a violent
death to me, nor a heart attack or stroke. Why is his face so
uncovered as if he had seen a ghost.
It was scary even
looking at his face for any longer. But somewhere in there they knew
that death was not accidental. They just didn't dare share their
fears out loud because no one would believe them.
It took them months to
figure things out in detail.
Finally they called in
one of the luminaries of science, Academician Komorodsky, who came
directly from Russia. When they asked him for his opinions, at first
he looked at them very seriously and slowly said:
- This doctor has
fallen victim to his own patient. No more, no less. The problem is
that the laws of your country are such that he cannot be sued because
he follows a certain social pattern of behaviour. To get him to give
himself up, we simply have to force him to show his true self and
leave his comfortable shell.
The deadly corona
virus was the formal cause of death according to the medical
examiners. So trivial and so convenient.
They laid the eminent
doctor's corpse in the ground and threw a few shovels of dirt on top
of it. Soon the coffin was nowhere to be seen.
I decided to leave the
country. I might have been discovered at any moment, and that would
have been extremely unpleasant. Deep down I knew that the Doctor had
fallen victim to his own little illusory world. But I wasn't
completely innocent. Perhaps I had unlocked his self-destructive
impulse with my own recklessness.
I had erased the
footprints. Left misleading clues. I'd burned the doctor's letters,
too, and disposed of the ashes. I had pushed or moved absolutely
nothing else. But I was calm. Hell of a calm. There was no danger of
being caught, even if they had any suspicions.
Then I just got ready
and left. Forever. And Dr. Weiss realized what could come out of a
caterpillar. Posthumously!
The scientist had been
so absorbed in his work that he had missed something so simple. No,
the caterpillar had no chance of turning into something beautiful,
but would continue its perfect mimicry, keeping its balance on the
leaf. And the public was to come to terms with that fact - at least
while it zealously stood in its cover on its way up.
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