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eved to go after a month to join some of his student friends on a holiday in the South of France。 I mourned what I knew was the passing of the friend and brother I had known； and felt more keenly than at any other time my injury…that thing which I knew would keep me in my adolescent state for ever； would never let me grow up and be a real man； able to make my own way in the world。
I threw that feeling off quickly。 I had the Skull； I had the Factory； and I had a vicarious feeling of manly satisfaction in the brilliant performance of Eric on the outside as； for my part； I slowly made myself unchallenged lord of the island and the lands about it。 Eric wrote me letters telling me how he was getting on； he called up and spoke to me and my father； and he would make me laugh then on the phone； the way a clever adult can； even though you might not want to let them。 He never let me feel that he had totally abandoned me or the island。
Then he had his unfortunate experience which； unknown to me and my father； came on top of other things； and it was enough to kill even the altered person I knew。 It was to send Eric flying back and out to something else： an amalgam of both his earlier self （but satanically reversed） and a more worldy…wise man； an adult damaged and dangerous； confused and pathetic and manic all at once。 He reminded me of a hologram； shattered； with the whole image contained within one spear…like shard； at once splinter and entirety。
It was during that second year； when he was helping out in a big teaching hospital； that it happened。 He didn't even have to be there at the time； down in the guts of the hospital with human rejects； he was helping out in his spare time。 Later my father and I heard that Eric had had problems he hadn't told us about。 He'd fallen for some girl and it had ended badly； with her telling him she didn't love him after all and going off with somebody else。 His migraines had been particularly bad for a while and had interfered with his work。 It was because of that as well as the girl that he had been working unofficially in the hospital near the University ； helping the nurses on late shifts； sitting in the darkness of the wards with his books while the old and the young and the sick moaned and coughed。
He was doing that the night he had his unpleasant experience。 The ward was one where they kept babies and young children so badly deformed they were sure to die outside hospital； and not last much longer even inside。 We got a letter explaining most of what had happened from a nurse who had been friendly with my brother； and from the tone of her letter she thought it was wrong to keep some of the children alive； apparently； they were little else than exhibits to be shown to students by the doctors and consultants。
It was a hot； close night in July； and Eric was down in this ghoulish place； near the hospital boiler room and store rooms。
He'd had a sore head all day； and while he was in the ward it had worsened into a bad migraine。 The ventilation in the place had been faulty for the past couple of weeks； and engineers had been working on the system； that night it was hot and stuffy； and Eric's migraines have always been bad in those conditions。 Somebody was ing to replace him in an hour or so； or I suppose even Eric would have admitted defeat and left to go back to his hall of residence and lie down。 As it was； he was going round the ward changing nappies and quieting mewling babies and changing dressings and drips or whatever； his head feeling as though it was splitting and his vision distorted with lights and lines。
The child he was attending to when it happened was more or less a vegetable。 Amongst its other defects it was totally incontinent； unable to make any other noise apart from a gurgle； couldn't control its muscles properly…even its head had to be supported by a brace…and it wore a metal plate over its head because the bones which should have made up its skull never did grow together； and even the skin over its brain was paper thin。
It had to be fed every few hours with some special mixture； and Eric was doing that when it happened。 He had noticed that the child was a little quieter than usual； just sitting there slackly in its chair and staring straight ahead； breathing lightly； eyes glazed and an almost peaceful expression on its usually vacant face。 It seemed to be incapable of taking its food； though…one of the few activities that normally it was able to appreciate and even join in。 Eric was patient； and held the spoon in front of its unfocused eyes； he put it to its lips where normally the child would have put its tongue out； or try to lean forward and take the spoon into its mouth； but that night it just sat there； not gurgling； not shaking its head or shifting or flapping its arms or rolling its eyes but staring and staring； that curious look on its face which might have been mistaken for happiness。
Eric persevered； sitting closer； trying to ignore the pressing pain in his own head as the migraine got gradually worse。 He spoke gently to the child…something that would normally get it to swivel its eyes and shift its head towards the source of the noise； but which that night had no effect at all。 Eric checked the sheet of paper by the chair to see if the child had been given any extra medication； but everything appeared normal。 He edged closer； crooning； waving the spoon； fighting the waves of pain inside his skull。
Then he saw something； something like a movement； just a tiny little movement； barely visible on the shaved head of the slightly smiling child。 Whatever it was was small and slow。
Eric blinked； shook his head to try to dislodge the quivering lights of the migraine building inside。 He stood up； still holding the spoon with the mushy food on it。 He bent closer to the skull of the child； looking closer。 He couldn't see anything； but he looked round the edge of the metal skull…cap the child wore； thought he saw something under it； and lifted it easily from the head of the infant to see if there was anything wrong。
A boiler…room worker heard Eric screaming and rushed into the ward brandishing a big spanner； he found Eric crammed into a corner howling as hard as he could at the floor； his head down between his knees as he half…knelt； half…lay； foetal on the tiles。 The chair the child was in had been tipped over； and it and the strapped…in child； who was still smiling； lay on the floor a few yards away。
The man from the boiler…room shook Eric but got no response。 Then he looked at the child on the chair and went over to it； perhaps to right its chair； he got within a couple of feet； then rushed to the door； throwing up before he got there。
A ward sister from the floor above found the man in the corridor still fighting his dry heaves when she came down to see what all the fuss was about。 Eric had stopped screaming by that time and gone quiet。 The child was still smiling。
The sister righted the child's chair。 Whether she choked back any of her own sickness； or felt dizzy； or whether she had seen as bad or worse before and treated