mrs johnson thought joey was showing signs of progress, but mr johnson was more cautious.
joey’s head continued to grow a little bit every day, but he had stopped asking to go out so that he could meet other children.
he still spent many hours each day looking out the window - usually the large drawing room window that faced the front driveway - but he no longer looked out only on rainy days, but sometimes on clear and sunny days as well.
when asked by ms walker and the other therapists and observers why this was , he replied -
“the spirits of the birds are merging with the spirits of the frogs and beetles.”
“:and the war between the dead and the yet to be born?” ms walker asked. “what of that?”
“green is no longer a color,” joey replied. as this answer did not seem to involve visions of apocalyptic violence, it was considered progress.
also joey no longer asked “who are they?” every time he saw one of the guards patrolling outside on the grounds, although he would still stare intently sometimes when he noticed one of the guards making their rounds in the corridors of the house.
he no longer complained very much about the food he was served, but this could be attributed to
the staff’s learning to avoid the many things he objected to, such as salt, pepper, garlic, paprika, rosemary, and chocolate.
joey had resumed work on his histories of the world , and of the world’s religions, although he declined to share the unfinished products with anyone. and he had stopped laughing loudly - with the laugh that so unnerved many of the staff and guards - as he worked.
best of all, joey no longer openly expressed any desire to join the ranks of the the new race of intelligent children who were waging war on the world.
if only his head would stop growing!
then, mr and mrs johnson thought, things might finally get back to normal.
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