“When only a few individuals are doing it, we treat the individuals. But if it were done on a mass scale, Morey, it would be the end of society as we know it. Think of the whole collection of anti-social actions that you see in every paper. Man beats wife; wife turns into a harpy; junior smashes up windows; husband starts a black-market stamp racket. And every one of them traces to a basic weakness in the mind’s defenses against the most important single anti-social phenomenon—failure to consume.”
Morey flared, “That’s not fair, Doctor! That was weeks ago! We’ve certainly been on the ball lately. I was just commended by the Board, in fact—”
The doctor said mildly, “Why so violent, Morey? I only made a general remark.”
“It’s just natural to resent being accused.”
The doctor shrugged. “First, foremost and above all, we do not accuse patients of things. We try to help you find things out.” He lit his end-of-session cigarette. “Think about it, please. I’ll see you next week.”
Cherry was composed and unapproachable. She kissed him remotely when he came in. She said, “I called Mother and told her the good news. She and Dad promised to come over here to celebrate.”
“Yeah,” said Morey. “Darling, what did I say wrong on the phone?”
“They’ll be here about six.”
“Sure. But what did I say? Was it about the rations? If you’re sensitive, I swear I’ll never mention them again.”
“I am sensitive, Morey.”