"What exactly is madness?"
Schiller rose from the sofa and walked to the screen. His unfocused gray eyes swept over the room, yet seemed to see nothing at all. Those within his gaze immediately noticed something different. This sickness no longer seemed so calm and mysterious; instead, it appeared to brim with a passion ordinary people could not comprehend.
Like a great orator, he stood in the center of the room and questioned everyone. He seemed to be waiting for answers, but perhaps he was even more eager to interpret the answers others gave. A powerful urge to comment and expound made him seem both like an artist searching inward for himself and a Hunter chasing answers outward.
"Pathologically speaking, all madness people experience arises because something has gone wrong with the way their brains function."
Bruce was the first to answer, but everyone knew that such an utterly rational view had to be followed by a turn. Sure enough, "but" appeared like a hound chasing a rabbit, too swiftly to be seen.
"But the most meaningful part of studying madness has never been how the diseased brain functions after something goes wrong. It is how it went wrong in the first place. That involves a series of complex issues in sociology, psychology, and psychiatry. It can be considered an interdisciplinary field."
"And if any researcher fails to focus on that process, glosses over it carelessly, or if that process is compressed into an extremely short time and accomplished in one stroke by some mysterious entity that requires no further explanation, then we may say it has drifted farther and farther away from madness."
Schiller nodded lightly, but did not comment at once. Instead, he turned to Pamela. She wore an expression that said she agreed with him, but still