Time's Mouth by Edan Lepucki

Author:Edan Lepucki
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2023-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

It took a while for Ray to fully understand how far out Reich’s theories got. The man—our man, as Doc liked to say—went from believing trauma blocked the flow of energy in the body to espousing the theory of orgonic bions, which he was certain floated through and created the universe. From there, he built a machine, called an Orgone Accumulator, designed to trap orgonic energy. He believed one could sit inside the metal-lined box and harness the bions. The good, vibrant energy would fill you up. Heal you. Reich claimed he could even cure cancer.

“Didn’t take long for the FBI to open an investigation,” Doc said.

“Jesus,” Ray said. They were in the last few minutes of the appointment; it was always at the end of his treatment that Doc doled out the history lessons, the Reich biography, maybe because Ray was so spent by then, sweaty and sore, his throat raw, that all he was capable of was sitting and listening.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They threw him in jail,” Doc said. “Destroyed his papers and any devices he had. This was up in Maine, where he ultimately settled when he came to the States.”

“How awful.”

“It is. And it isn’t. Our man did go a little insane at the end.” Doc bit his lip, wincing, and stroked his beard like it was a small pet. “It’s a shame he went so far. He even believed he had built a machine—not the Orgone Accumulator—that could make rain.”

“You’re saying he died a quack?”

“You could say that,” Doc said. Ray appreciated the honesty.

“Well shit.”

“But the major tenets of his theories are sound,” Doc went on, rocking in his chair, and Ray could tell he was gearing up for one of his little lectures. “When I say theories, I’m speaking of the body theories, which are now considered if not mainstream, then at least essential to trauma work, especially by somatic psychologists and such. The proof is in the pudding! I’ve witnessed it myself, as you know. This work helps. It heals. Don’t you think?”

Ray had to admit that it did. He was coming to see Doc once a week, as long as work didn’t get in the way; these appointments, along with life on the estate, were doing something. He felt great. Miracle Mile, indeed.

“Do you have an Orgone Accumulator?” Ray asked. “Not here at the office, I know you don’t. At home though?” Ray knew Doc lived in Silverlake, bought a house in the seventies. His house overlooked the reservoir, he said.

“Alas, no. I’ve only tried it a couple of times at a friend’s place.”

“And?”

“Felt exquisite,” Doc said dreamily.

At a previous appointment, Doc told Ray that bions released through the top of the head, escaping until the body felt depleted, drained. The question was, how to get the energy back? Ray imagined stepping into an Accumulator.

How big was it? Was it scary?

No. Exquisite.

“How can I get one?” Ray asked. “An Orgone Accumulator.” Without meaning to, he leaned forward, as if preparing to lift off.

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