“Even a worm will turn, mon ami.“
“Ah yes, but a worm is an animal.”
“And what are you, you enlightened son of a dog?”
“I don’t think . . . if you’re just going to become abusive—”
“I don’t want to be here, herr Doktor. I’m made to be here.”
“And you’ll continue to be here until you reform.”
“I have been trying, but you won’t listen.”
“You have to listen; you have to change.”
“I’m trying to change, but you are very stubborn.”
“Alright, I’ll put it this way. You’ll either be locked up in this madhouse for the rest of your life, or you can stop playing these games.”
“Games are all I have, Ben Shachar. You will not dialogue, you will not question, you will only demand, the reasonable tyrant that you are, and like your colleges Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether, you have . . . “
“What?”
“Forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?”
“It’s important, I think, if I am to reform anything, to make a change; you can’t just be given the answers and told to march. Sure, you might march, for a time, but then the tyrant dies.”
“I’m increasing your medication.”
Tale Told 