Sorting things out. Or trying to.
John's back in the city for now, and wandering aimlessly-- which, in his case, means in the general direction of Anna's apartment, although he knows better than to actually try and visit her.
He's pretty sure he believes what Schreber's friends (okay, not his Schreber's friends, but whatever) are telling him. Pretty sure. It's incredibly fucked up, but it makes a weird kinda sense. And, in any case, his life's plenty weird already. It's not likely anyone else would believe him if he tried to explain who he is.
The other Murdoch and the other Schreber, they're doing just fine. Planting trees in their city, for Chrissakes. And all the while he can barely stay sane, and Schreber's too scared to come near him any more, and they're damn lucky the city hasn't already fallen down around their ears.
It's not fair, he thinks senselessly, and the brief burst of anger makes some chunks of brick shower down to the street from the front of the nearest building.
He's pretty sure he believes what Schreber's friends (okay, not his Schreber's friends, but whatever) are telling him. Pretty sure. It's incredibly fucked up, but it makes a weird kinda sense. And, in any case, his life's plenty weird already. It's not likely anyone else would believe him if he tried to explain who he is.
The other Murdoch and the other Schreber, they're doing just fine. Planting trees in their city, for Chrissakes. And all the while he can barely stay sane, and Schreber's too scared to come near him any more, and they're damn lucky the city hasn't already fallen down around their ears.
It's not fair, he thinks senselessly, and the brief burst of anger makes some chunks of brick shower down to the street from the front of the nearest building.