He knew he was mad. He knew he saw things that others couldn't. He tried to keep quiet about it, but things would slip out. People knew.
So there he is walking an empty street except to him the street is full of trits and grobs and drungs. Strange things that might be trees are standing in the road.
The drungs never speak to him. They sneer and stick out their tongues as they pass him.
He curses them and a woman on the other side of the street turns her head fearfully then hunches down and hurries on.
He sits at a terminal all day checking credit. He sits for four hours then takes a half hour lunch then he sits for four hours then he goes home. He does not speak if he can avoid it, but there is a water buffalo in the elevator. There is no room. He flattens himself against the wall. The water buffalo lurches against him as a courier all slung about with bags gets in oblivious.
The water buffalo is breathing heavily - on the edge of panic.
``Its alright, just stay calm,'' he says.
The courier is a thin black man. He looks up, surprised.
``Thanks. I needed to hear that!'' He gets out on the fifth floor. The water buffalo gets out on the third. Then for one dreadful moment he thinks he is alone - until he sees the slads hanging from the ceiling. They jibber at him quietly.
When he gets home his mother is there with three or four of her other selves. They are arguing about decisions made decades ago.
``Why don't you just shut up? It doesn't matter - that all happened years ago!''
His mother looks at him wearily, ``I didn't say anything,'' she says.
``Sorry.''
``So who are your friends?''
``What?''
``Those little globby guys there on the sofa.''
``Mom there are no little globby guys on the sofa!''
``Honey, I can see them!''
He went outside and walked for a while. His mother had caught his disease!
Then he realized the street was empty except for a dealer at the corner and a yellow cat. Not a greb in sight.
His turn to be sane.