Sphere

by Michael Crichton

He remembered one of his teachers, fat old Dr. Temkin. “You always have an option. There is always something you can do. You are never without choice.” I am now, he thought. No choices now. Anyway, Temkin had been talking about treating patients, not escaping from sealed chambers. Temkin didn’t have any experience escaping from sealed chambers. And neither did Norman. The oxygen made him lightheaded. Or was it already running out? He saw a parade of his old teachers before him. Was this like seeing your life running before you, before you died? All his teachers: Mrs. Jefferson, who told him to be a lawyer instead. Old Joe Lamper, who laughed and said, “Everything is sex. Trust me. It always comes down to sex.” Dr. Stein, who used to say, “There is no such thing as a resistant patient. Show me a resistant patient and I’ll show you a resistant therapist. If you’re not making headway with a patient, then do something else, do anything else. But do something.” Do something.