Free Mirrors by Ted Dekker

vegetable,” Austin said.
    “Or so you say. And even if that were the case, is that so bad? Look at him. Jacob enjoys an enviable state of being, peace that you can only dream of. You may have read about it in your books, but Jacob… Jacob experiences it.”
    “He’s unaware of any danger, of course he isn’t worried!”
    “He’s very aware, just not of any danger. If he is aware of danger, he doesn’t care, because he sees no threat to his life or his well-being. Survival isn’t a concern to him. He’s practically a Zen master, and yet you see him as a vegetable.”
    The comparison gave Austin some pause, but his mind was still on those blue gloves, which Fisher periodically slapped against his palm.
    “Haven’t you ever watched a bird on a sunny afternoon and wondered what it would be like to live completely free, to have no concern for anything? Or a cat who must accept life only as it is in the moment—no worries, no problems to be solved, nowhere to get to. What must that feel like? Welcome to Jacob’s world. He’s at complete peace.”
    “You can’t know that. You’re not in his mind.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong. Emotions are simply chemical responses to thought patterns, the physical manifestation of which can be accurately measured in the body with the proper instruments. I’ve helped Jacob for quite a while, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that he’s at perfect peace. You, on the other hand, are looking at the gloves in my hand, and, filled with knowledge of what they might mean, are filled with anxiety.”
    The simple truth of it hit Austin. Needled him.
    “So tell me, who is better off? You… or Jacob?”
    Austin looked across at the boy. His serene eyes were void of any concern, any confusion, any anxiety. There was a gentle air of peace about him, but what Austin really saw behind those eyes was a detached human with a broken mind.
    “He’s not all there,” Austin said.
    “Not fully human, is that it?” Fisher said.
    “Not really, no.”
    “You think a body part, like a leg, makes you more human than someone who doesn’t have it? If I were to remove your leg, you would be less than you are now?”
    The gloves loomed large in Austin’s mind. With them, a saw.
    “No,” he said.
    “No. Are you your hands? Your face? Your brain? Or are you something else?”
    “I’m my mind.”
    Fisher regarded him for a while, staring directly into his eyes.
    “So then Jacob, with less of a mind, is somehow less human? I don’t think he would appreciate your opinion, frankly.”
    “He can’t even process my opinion.”
    “Maybe not. Which perhaps gives him an advantage over you. He’s at peace.”
    Fisher began to pull on the surgical gloves.
    “Let me ask you a very important question, Scott.” Fisher’s eyes drilled him. “Given the choice, would you rather be in perfect peace, or would you rather be right?”
    Austin’s mind spun. He did want peace. In fact, being right gave him peace.
    Or did it? Actually, in all honesty, the need to know answers with absolute certainty kept him in a constant state of low anxiety.
    “There are two ways we can do this,” Fisher said, pulling on the second glove. “I can sedate you and treat you while you’re unconscious, but I think it would be far more effective if you face your fears now. My data sets indicate that a willing entry into therapy has a markedly positive influence on patient outcomes.” He released the tight elastic latex glove and let it snap loudly on his arm.
    “Your choice.”
    Austin’s heart rate was at a full gallop, and he seemed powerless to calm himself. He realized that his knees were bouncing nervously, but he no longer cared about appearances. He only wanted out of this chair, out of this madness. The idea of being sedated terrified him. Images of catatonic patients filled his mind. No mind, no self.
    His anxiety raged unchecked. Part of Fisher’s argument made some absurd kind of sense, which