I headed home via the inner city bypass. On the way, a portable sign was flashing “Construction” – “This exit”, observing it as I approached it appeared to me that the timing was slightly changing between the change in words. Intrigued I took the exit.

I drove slowly looking for the construction. It was there but it wasn’t significant. As I passed I looked around, I was passing the hospital. After the construction, nothing was really significant, so I turned around with efforts towards heading home. While coming up to the hospital however, there was a sign indicating that parking was too the left. I took the turn.

As I drove into the backend of the hospital, there were parks available but they were all assigned. Eventually, I found a park assigned to the handicapped. Under normal circumstances, I would disdain able-bodied people taking such carparks, however, I thought it was fitting given my current condition. Used to parking in tight spaces I parked hugging a wall on the drivers’ side as close as I could folding in my mirror. Why I was just showing off how I could still operate under fatigue and pressure.

I exited the car through the passenger side and continued to explore the hospital grounds. I came across a sign that gave directions, to the left was family units, knowing my family history, I thought this was a fitting starting point. I walked down the hill and found a building dedicated by a politician with the last name of Austin. After operating on an average of about four hours of sleep a night for the past month, I was quickly becoming past wit’s end and had a small break down at this seeming revelation that an Austin was of some significance.

I continued on my journey trying to open a bin of documents to be shredded with my multi-tool, I gave up quickly, my tool was not strong enough. Dawn was fast approaching at this point, and I am pretty sure a shift change was coming on as people were trickling into the hospital. I stopped an individual and asked where the security was, he gave me directions and told me to look out for motorcycles.

As I was walking up the hill, I noted steam coming from the building with a flashing red light and a sign warning ‘danger’. I was scared. I noted the sign was by a door. Not one to run from my fears, I walked up to the door, it wasn’t locked when I opened it, the room it revealed was pitch black. I stepped in and the door slammed shut behind me with a sudden rush of wind. I stood still in the moment and absorbed my fear, I could see a small crack of light under a door directly in front of me, and after adjusting my eyesight to the dark, apparent boilers/pumps to my right and a wall of switches to my left. I could not see the ground. I walked cautiously to the door in front of me.

On the other side of the door was a hallway, once I entered this hallway the door behind me locked. It became apparent to me that the boilers/pumps were attached to the hydrotherapy pool. My father had done some rehabilitation work in this pool, and given the state of my knee, I thought it would be worthwhile to do some myself. I waited in the waiting area for probably about half an hour, killing the time with push-ups and reading the material provided. Eventually, a lady walked by, I asked her what time the pool opened. In a sympathetic voice, she responded: “Not for a couple of hours yet, honey”.

I decided to move on and set my sights for my original goal of the security office to get some help. On my way, I walked past a statue and as I was walking up the hill a couple of road bikes came down the hill. Remembering my instructions, I quickly stopped the bikes. The rider donning a helmet looked like he could have been crying, although it could have simply been bloodshot eyes from a long shift.

I asked the man if he knew where security was, he instructed me to continue up the hill. I did and ended back at my car. The sun was out by this stage, I considered continuing on my journey back home, but seeing the sign for the family unit I decided to give this one last shot.

The family unit was built on a hill. The first time I went to the entrance on the second floor, the second time around, I went further down the hill and decided to enter the ground floor area. There was a child’s playground there and a spider whose web I had to rearrange so I didn’t get caught up in it.

I knocked on a glass door and a lady answered, I came to realise that this was a child’s ward and extrapolated that I may indeed have a bastard I was unaware of. The lady asked, “who I was after?” I thought for a moment and responded “Austin”.She responded that no one was here by that name. I sat there and thought for a bit longer and knocked again, this time I asked for a Michael. The response was the same only this time she asked me to leave as I was disturbing the children. I listened and started my way up the hill towards my car.

About halfway up the hill, a security guard came on a postman’s bike. I stopped him and started talking to him. Before I knew it about seven guards rocked up on bikes and surrounded me. I was scared once again. I sat on the ground, broke down in tears and requested help, mental help.

The security guards, requested the rocket, it turns out that the rocket was just a shuttle bus, but its name along with my imagination led me to think up some scary thoughts along the line of injections. While we waited for the rocket we took a walk up the road to show them where my car was parked, I gave them my keys and the said they would park it in long term parking. It was at this point that I noticed that one of the guards was crying with tears falling down his face.

I took the rocket down to the ER and when I asked what my problem was, I didn’t know, so I responded in a cryptic fashion that I was being followed by angels and demons. I was admitted to the ER mental health ward where I was asked by the hospital if they could contact anyone for me. I requested my father, but it was my mother that ended up coming in as my father had to go to work.

When my mother came to visit I broke down in tears enquiring if Jerry, a close Taiwanese friend from my childhood, was part of the angels and demons. Jerry died of meningococcal when I was in grade seven and my world was quickly becoming engulfed in a conspiracy that I was coming of age into a clandestine world that operated in an anarchic fashion. I did not put it past this community to sabotage any childhood connections that might create diplomatic issues in the future.

My mother took my question on face value and consulted me saying that she was sure he was with the angels. We waited in the mental health ward of the ER and during my time there, there was an aboriginal man and a young kid who crashed his old man’s car. I tried to consult the aboriginal man by hugging him and looking into his eyes, but they were blurred seeming with cataracts. I was unable to hold his gaze or his embrace and disconnected. After that I went to the toilet, as I sat there I felt defeated at my inability to connect with this man and admitted to myself there was much to learn if I am going to operate in such a world I felt I was entering. I hit the emergency button in the toilet, and proceeded to clean up after myself while I felt like I was ready to come clean and “confess”. However, as I was getting ready a moment of resolve entered me. I was not done yet. I hit the emergency button again to call off the button and walked out of the toilet. I responded to enquiries into the emergency call as a mistake.

I spoke to two doctors that day, telling them cryptically about the build-up to my present situation. Using religion as a disguise for all my believed clandestine interactions. They were presenting me with two options: a short hospital admission or to take prescription drugs at home. That week was a culminating week of university though and I had a presentation to provide at work that week, thus I did not want to take the hospitalisation.

As I sat in the small concrete courtyard, I was with the young kid, he was cold, as it was the middle of winter. I gave him my jumper and asked him what it was he wanted to do with his life – he responded ‘acting’. I asked him what his favourite scene was and to act it out. He wouldn’t do it, so I led by example acting out the scene where Achilles summons Hector in the movie Troy. I stood there screaming out “Hector” at the top of my lungs. As the day wore on, as did these two other patients until it was only my mother and me waiting in the ward. I spent a bit of time outside, it was twilight now and I found yelling at the top of my lungs to be therapeutic, so I started screaming “Hector” again. My mother came out and gave me a hug. I saw the Doctor come out behind her with a happy face, I gave him the finger, as I believed him to be part of a system that was dragging me down and interfering in my personal affairs. The Doctor’s smile faded and he turned around.

When I went inside, I was informed that I had to be hospitalised under the mental health act. My mother left, I went outside a little bit more into the cold. Then with a ‘come what may’ attitude reentered the ward and took the drugs that were prescribed.