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The Orgone Accumulator : Part Three


Hialmar

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The Prologue is found here

The preceeding chapter is found here

The Orgone Accumulator: Part Three

The young man stood leaning on the balustrade, admiring the scenery from the terrace, which ran in front of the facade of the main building. The white-painted concrete must have been considered avant-garde thirty years ago, but The Foundation hadn't been able to maintain the building the way it deserved, and the white paint fell from the facade like unmelting flakes in the wind. Smoke rose from the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, a pillar of smoke spiralling upwards, disappearing. The road. Valleys of trees. Vineyards. Forests. Perhaps a hint of glittering sea, far, far away between some of the hills, but it was also possible, that he imagined the glitter of waves, because he knew it must be somewhere over there, westward. Sunny California, indeed. Not like his wintery home-town. Useful? Yes, useful therapy, to an extent, but none of the other guests at The Foundation were of his age, and the garden, atelier, library and meditation room felt suffocatingly still and lifeless. The Businessman approached, wearing his expensive costume tailored to look dull. The Businessman's actual name sounded fancy, but the young man hadn't yet been able to associate it with that famous company.

"Do you mind if I join you when I smoke, young man?" 

He must have been more than fifty years old. By his look, he must be living a very successful life. What was he and his pearl-decked wife doing at The Foundation? Were rich people really supposed to be in need of therapy? Couldn't they buy happiness?

America. The land of opportunities, as his grandparents had used to say, when they immigrated in another century.

"Of course not, Sir. I hope, that I don't trouble you."

"Not at all, son. I have attended The Foundation together with Julia for years, and I always appreciate when some guests are somewhat younger than we are. It enlivens the place. Julia and I don't have any children of our own."

The Businessman lit his own cigarette, and looked thoughtful, as he seemed to take the natural scenery in.

"How old is this place, Sir?"

"The main building was built in the style of early modernism in the 1920s by a German-American architect, but most of the smaller buildings were added in the 1940s, when Dr. Witt founded The Foundation. Dr. Reich visited several times in the beginning, but then the unpleasant business happened in 1956."

"Unpleasant business?"

"You haven't heard? Dr. Reich spent his last two years in prison, and died just a few days before being able to obtain a parole."

"What for?"

"The Food and Drug Administration didn't approve of some of his inventions. They believed his methods were fraudulent."

"But he was a doctor, wasn't he?"

"He was a psychoanalyst, but his methods differed from Sigmund Freud. Have you heard about Freud?"

"Dr. Witt explained about him, when I began analysis, an I think, I'd read something about him in newspapers before analysis began. What do you think? You wouldn't come here, if you didn't trust Dr. Reich's ideas, would you, Sir?"

"Talking to someone -- a priest or a rabbi or a psychoanalyst or someone else bound to not gossip -- wont hurt. I don't think highly of the navel-gazing. The massage is nice. I've eaten worse food than this, but I am not entirely sure what to make of The Orgone Accumulator. To be honest, I mainly come here, because Julia believe in Reich's theories."

"Orgone Accumulator?"

"They haven't prescribed it to you, yet? Fair enough. I suppose Dr. Witt -- you are one of Dr. Witt's clients aren't you, not a client of one of the others? -- will give you the treatment after some initial cycles of analysis and massage. Did Dr. Witt ever mention Orgone?"

"Yes. Dr. Reich theorized, that there is some sort of life-force in every living being, but Dr. Witt never explained any details."

"It's the details I distrust, not the basic idea. He even attempted to draw Orgone from the clouds with some sort of antenna. The American authorities burned his books in 1956, which I think is a shame: In a free country, all citizens are free to present their thoughts freely, and if they contain bogus, they will be exposed as such in a free debate, not by censorship. A shame, really."

They fell silent a little while.

"Do you have any analysis or massage booked for today?"

"Not this afternoon. I had a therapy session with Dr. Witt early this morning."

"I'm going into the city. Want a ride?"

"Thank you, Sir. It's not like I dislike the fresh air out here, but I wouldn't say no to a few hours away from The Foundation."

* * *

Next chapter is found here

Edited by Hialmar
language, link, structure of sentence
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