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Pembroke: [Lockhart reading his letter] To my fellow-members of the Board. A man cannot unsee the truth. He cannot willingly return to darkness, or go blind once he has the gift of sight, any more than he can be unborn. We are the only species capable of self-reflection. The only species with the toxin of self-doubt written into our genetic code. Unequal to our gifts, we build, we buy, we consume. We wrap us in the illusion of material success. We cheat and deceive as we claw our way to the pinnacle of what we define as achievement. Superiority to other men.
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Pembroke: [Lockhart now reading the letter sitting at boardroom table] There is a sickness inside us. Rising like the bile that leaves that bitter taste at the back of our throats. It's there in every one of you seated around the table. We deny its existence until one day the body rebels against the mind and screams out, "I am not a well man." No doubt you will think only of the merger. That unclean melding of two equally diseased institutions. But the truth cannot be ignored. For only when we know what ails us can we hope to find the cure. I will not return. Do not attempt to contact me again. Sincerely, Roland E. Pembroke.
Hank Green: Well, Mr. Lockhart, what do you make of that?
Lockhart: Clearly he's lost his mind.
Wilson: Our thought exactly.
Hollis: Man goes for two-week spa vacation and has a complete mental breakdown.
Humphrey: [viewing his smartphone] Who the hell takes the waters in the 21st century anyway?
Natalia Bobrich
Extended Reading
