In the autumn of 1944, as the world outside reeled from war and uncertainty, The Van Kovak Institute of Behavioural Health Sciences opened its gates, standing as a beacon of serenity and progress.
The institute was founded by Dr. Van Kovak, a dutch neurosurgeon and philanthropist of great renown who bought and renovated the former The Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in West Virginia right in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. As for the building itself, local legends whispered that its foundations were laid not in brick and mortar but in something far older, something that had been sleeping beneath the ground since the world was young.
The site offered a perfect location— the mountain landscape and vast forest area surrounding the place would provide the privacy as well as the security needed by the mental hospital. The facilities however were old and quite trashed by the thousands of patients who’d been committed to the asylum since 1864 and the new owner had them completely renovated. Before Dr. Van Kovak's management, due to the lack of resources the hospital had the patients wandering around loosely with little hygiene and not much control, but the new director had the place redesigned so that every patient would have a room of their own, with thick doors that would prevent accidents and attempts to flee.
The Van Kovak Institute of Behavioural Health Sciences presents itself as a sanctuary of modern healing with innovative therapies as well as traditional ones, the renewed façade which exuded an air of stately grandeur, reflecting a promise of renewal. Manicured lawns stretch in elegant symmetry, dotted with sculptures said to evoke “the human spirit’s resilience.” A place of calm, of care, of science. Pamphlets, printed in bold Art Deco typeface and distributed widely in cities and towns, proclaimed its mission: Healing the Mind for a Better Tomorrow. Testimonials spoke of miracles—of soldiers returned from the front no longer haunted by horrors, of women who had once been labeled hysterical emerging calm and focused, of "nervous dispositions" transformed into pillars of strength.
The therapies are unlike anything most ever encountered. Dr. Van Kovak, the enigmatic founder and director, applied methods described as "the future of the human mind." Electro-stimulation to “balance the psyche,” sound therapy sessions using resonant frequencies that hummed in the chest, and guided “mental regressions” were just a few of the techniques employed. Guests are encouraged to embrace these treatments as part of a partnership with the staff—one that would unlock their true potential.
Those who left the Institute—whether after treatment or under more ambiguous circumstances—rarely spoke of their experience in detail. When asked, they would simply smile and say things like, “It was a very forward-thinking place,” or, “I feel like I’ve shed an old skin.” Yet there was a strange hollowness in their eyes, as if something once sharp had been sanded smooth.
The local townsfolk, wary yet intrigued by the Institute’s presence, often speculated about the strange lights seen through its high windows on certain nights, or the heavy deliveries of machinery that arrived under the cover of darkness. But luckily, Dr. Van Kovak was an expert at disarming suspicions. The doctor always spoke of progress and the responsibility of science to heal with measured words left no room for doubts, only admiration for a professional so dedicated to mending the human spirit.
Back at the Institute, now in 1950, the work continues. Beneath the genteel hospitality, deeper within its labyrinthine halls, something stirred—something that hummed and whirred with restless purpose. The war outside might one day end, but within those walls, another kind of battle raged: not against nations or ideologies, but against the limits of the mind itself.
