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By Root 305 0

soul: a psychology dependent on neurology and vice versa. And I believe the key here to be a collective unconscious, Samantha,' said Roley, becoming more confident and relaxed as he warmed to his theme. 'The dumping ground of all human experience.'

'Race memory,' she said.

'"A living system of reactions and aptitudes determining the individual life in invisible ways", if I recall Jung correctly.' Roley tapped a pencil against his lips. 'I don't know how this cave image manages to tally, but there can be few things more essentially primordial and present in the racial unconscious than fear of the devil.'

'How could convincing themselves they're the devil help them to get better?' asked Sam, feeling a chill run through her.

'How indeed? Sounds a little morbid, doesn't it,' said Roley, chuckling. 'But I feel perhaps some kind of outside influence could have been brought to bear in some fashion.'

'What kind and in what fashion?'

'That, indeed, is the question, Samantha.'

Sam was feeling more and more uneasy. Roley wasn't endearing himself to her; he might just as well have been talking about the weather, he was so casual. These were people, sick people. Bloody sick people, by the sound of it. She didn't fancy meeting them much, but equally she didn't like the way

Roley was studying them so clinically. What was he doing it for?

The Doctor was perhaps reading her thoughts. 'So,' he said. 'You intend to find some form of correlation.'

'Indeed.' Roley grinned his gummy grin.

'How?'

'Oh, through a variety of means, a variety of means.' Roley looked shifty all of a sudden, thought Sam. 'Counselling sessions, group therapy, associations, psychodramas...'

'Does that mean what I think it does?' said Sam, sharply.

Roley looked between them.

'You’ve been making them re-enact past traumas?' asked the Doctor.

'I believe it beneficial to -'

Sam cut across him, eyes darting across at the Doctor. She could feel the old double act shifting up a gear, and almost smiled. 'Beneficial? You said they were cured.'

The Doctor joined in: 'Beneficial to the book you're writing on them, perhaps?'

Roley fiddled with his tie. "These poor unfortunates form a unique case study. There's never been anything like -'

Sam leaned forwards. 'And that allows you to poke them with a stick and make them jump, does it?'

'Enough of this!' Roley stood up suddenly. 'Please.'

The Doctor exhaled, heavily. 'You're playing with fire and brimstone, Dr Roley.'

Roley rubbed the back of his neck as he sat back down. "These people are here as my paid guests, not as patients needing care.'

'Nor as guinea pigs, surely?' said Sam.

'I hardly feel I need your sanction, given the circumstances,' said Roley, irritably. 'I'm truly sorry for your experiences with Mr Austen, and grateful for your assistance. But really, my hospitality does not extend to enduring your ill-informed abuse.'

'Sod your hospitality,' muttered Sam under her breath. 'I think we could do with some fresh air, now, thanks Dr Roley,' she added more loudly.

'Splendid idea,' offered the Doctor. 'Off you go and look round.'

Sam stared at him, hands on hips. 'You're not coming?'

'Not just yet.'

Sam moved closer to him. 'Why?' she asked simply.

'He's piqued my professional interest.'

Sam glowered at him. 'Well, Doctor, I'll leave you to it, then.'

'Where will you go?'

Sam smiled, coyly. 'I've got a date at half-five.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 'Anyone I should warn you about?'

'It's not young Fitz, is it? Fitz Kreiner?' Sam turned to see Roley beaming again, his irritation apparently forgotten.

'Might be,' said Sam, a little embarrassed.

'Oh, he's a pleasant young man, yes. Bit of a sloucher, mind, dodged his National Service. But pleasant enough, yes. I'm looking after his mother here.'

'His mother?' Sam echoed.

'One of my case studies, yes. Strong as an ox - an ageing ox, of course, but even so... Plenty of spirit.'

'Evil spirit?' remarked Sam, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor.

'Perhaps you