August 2005 has been a great month for human achievement, what with
astronauts carrying out running repairs on a shuttle in space and
British experts freeing a Russian sub that was stuck on the seabed.
Amazing, but ever so welcome, was the fact that these two operations
claimed not a single life.
After all, the names Columbia and Kursk are still fresh in our memory.
Technology, when used to save life rather than take it, is a wonderful
thing; a month like this gives you the feeling that real progress may,
after all, be possible. Well done, all of you.
Human ingenuity apparently has its limitations and that is why, in a
psychiatric clinic in Dartford, England, a man was in care for four
months, without anyone having being able to establish his identity.
Imagine this: a bit of low-definition footage from CCTV cameras in
London can identify four would-be suicide bombers in no time at all, but
a man, obviously from the western world, seems to have washed up on the
Kent shore with no traceable past.
"Piano Man May Always Remain A Mystery" said a headline in a morning
paper. Come on guys, we don't do mysteries any more. This is 2005!
How difficult can it be to take a really good, detailed picture of this
man and send it, along with his blood type, DNA, finger prints, iris
scan and dental records, to every TV station, newspaper and police force
in the world?
Would his face not be recognised on any of the five continents. Never
mind that he doesn't say a dickie bird, that the marks were shaved off
his shoes and the labels cut out of his clothing. This isn't a Hitchcock
movie from the 1930s, for God's sake. Get a grip.
He must have family, friends, enemies, former teachers, people he owes
money too; perhaps an old auntie who is deaf as a post but still
remembers how, in better days, he would come and play 'Gnomenreigen' for
her on uncle's ancient upright. Plaster his face and other known details
across every TV screen and front page in the civilised world, and nobody
can tell me that someone, somewhere, is not going to say: "Well, blow me
down. I know that guy. That's thingy who used to go with whatsername
before he went a bit funny. Better phone the police."
Even his relatives, if he has any, are bound to make themselves known,
unless they're living in a log cabin in the wilds of, say, Lapland,
carving figurines out of reindeer bone and writing the history of the
world in runes on a sheet of buckskin. Someone disappears, they get
missed, that's the way it usually works, even with the most abject
down-and-out.
As to the man himself: OK so he doesn't talk. Well, make him talk. I
don't mean 'make him talk' the way they used to make people talk in
Saddam's jails or in Guantanamo Bay, but there are plenty of procedures
that can lead to a person breaking his or her silence. Try money.
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe a shot of sodium pentathlon might do the trick,
I don't know. But even getting him to say 'hungry' in his own language
would help narrow down the search for his origins.
Meanwhile, theories about how Piano Man got into his current predicament
abound. Initially, people tended toward the view that he may be
suffering from post-traumatic stress, possibly after falling - or being
pushed - overboard from a ****p.
Not likely, in the absence of any marine distress call or on-board
missing person inquiry. What ****p blithely sails on after losing its
cocktail bar ivory-tickler, and since when did PTSD exist anyway?
Theory number two: no trauma. We're dealing here with an idiot savant, a
gifted autist along the lines of Rain Man or that astoni****ng little boy
who can draw from memory anything he's seen for only an instant. Trouble
is, they all spoke. One outlandish proposition is that Piano Man is an
elaborate promotional device of some record company or other, ahead of
the release of the man's first CD. Should be a million-seller.
I'd like to think, in that psychiatric clinic in Dartford, experts were
working assiduously, 24/7, to bring Piano Man out of whatever condition
he's in, sparing neither effort nor expense. But why can't I get the
idea out of my head that were happy to let things be?
I'll tell you why. Because most of these psychiatrists do not have a
job, and would be better finding something useful to do with their
lives, like General Practice (medical). One in four of us do not suffer
mental illness (it's 1:4 according to the UK government): that's a lie.
When Piano Man returned to Germany, I bet he got more than just his
expenses.
--
T Moore
N E Manchester, England
http://sitemenu.tom-moore.com/
|
