Letters from the Lost Man, Part 7

"How long was I out?" I ask, the pain in my side giving a polite little reminder that it was still there.

"Twenty-four hours," the nurse answers as she bounces around the room looking busy.

I blink. "You're serious..."

She nods. "Uh-huh."

There's no way I was asleep that long. It just doesn't seem possible. I feel like I closed my eyes minutes ago.

"That's the thing about dreams," the nurse continues. "Especially drug-induced dreams...nothing is as it appears."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I snort. But it's strange that she should say that. It seems that nothing really is as it appears lately...dream or no.

"Are you hungry?" she asks cheerily.

Without even thinking about it, I nod. I'm famished actually. I can't remember the last time I ate. As if it knows we're talking about it, my stomach growls. Not to be outdone, my side aches defiantly.

"Maybe we'll give you something for the pain as dessert," the nurse offers.

"Maybe," I say doubtfully. "Though not the same thing as last time. I'd like to stay conscious for a while."

"Okay," she beams.

"Say, why does my side hurt so bad anyways?"

The nurse sighs. "You mean you forgot again? You were hit by a truck."

I shake my head. "No, that I remember. What I mean is, what's broken or bruised or whatever."

"Oh," she says, glancing at the chart on her clipboard. "Um, a few broken ribs, some bad bruising obviously..."

"That's it?" I ask incredulously. "No road rash or broken limbs?"

The nurse raises her eyebrows at me. "Would you prefer to have more injuries?"

"No..."

"You were very lucky. The truck hit you right before it stopped."

"I see..."

Did you ever have the feeling that somebody was just totally winging it? Just improvising lie after lie to make you believe some story that is fairly plausible anyways. No, you probably haven't. It's a really strange and unlikely situation to be in...very disconcerting. Some things are starting to come back to me now.

Loretta told me to just go with the images. She's the real one, not like this nurse here. And yet, I can't bring myself to go along with her instructions. I just don't remember what all this is about...and I don't think I'm supposed to. You have no idea what it's like not to know what in your life is real and what is a dream. Well, if this is a dream, I'm taking control.

A few minutes after my exceedingly happy "nurse" leaves the room, I find myself hatching a plan. I'm going to get off this trippy little amusement park ride. I sit up in bed... Ouch, that hurts! It's okay. Just ease yourself out of bed. That's right. Now, tiptoe over to the door and peek out.

The coast appears to be clear. Now, slowly step out of the room. Creep down the hallway. Excellent, so far so good. Oh crap, who's that?

"Hi, I need to transfer this patient to the psych wing," some guy in scrubs says to the lady behind the counter up ahead. He has a patient in a wheelchair next to him.

"Name?"

"Vine, Loretta," he replies.

"Okay," the lady says. "Here's the papers. You know the drill."

"Yeah," he answers with a snicker.

Loretta? It has to be a coincidence. It also has to be a coincidence that the woman in the wheelchair looks exactly like the Loretta I remember. Oh hell, they're coming this way.

"Do you need anything, sir?" the guy in scrubs asks.

I shake my head dumbly. Is that really Loretta? "I, uh..." I hear myself begin to speak. "I, uh, think I work with this woman. When did she come in?"

The guy looks at me suspiciously. "I doubt it, sir. She's being transferred in from another hospital. She's been there for years," he explains.

I take a good look at her. Her hair is stringy and greasy. The stare in her eyes is vacant. She's made no indication that she's even aware we've been talking right in front of her. But still...underneath her ragged exterior, I can still see the one person I can really recognize.

"Hmm..." I say. "I guess I'm mistaken."

The guy nods and continues pushing her down the corridor quickly.

Yeah, mistaken my foot. I'd like to follow them, but I'm sure it would arouse some attention, especially since this guy seems to think I'm as crazy as Loretta apparently is. This can't be right at all. I know I saw Loretta in a hospital room as my nurse no more than a week ago. And then again as the new girl at the office. What should I do? Should I forget about seeing her just now and keep making my way toward the exit, or should I stay and try to figure out what's going on?

I turn to look down the hallway at the exit sign. Someone is standing right below it...it's a figure in a dark black robe. Damn it...not this guy again. Well, I'm going to turn the other way. Last time I saw this guy, I got hit by a truck. I'm not playing this game again.

Pivoting on my foot, I step the other way with one last glance over my shoulder. The figure is gone. See? It's all in your imagination. But as I face forward to look where I'm going, I bump right into him...er, it.

"Oh, uh...I'm so...ah, excuse..." I mumble lamely.

The black figure leans back, then shoots forth his fist. The world explodes into little shooting stars. Everything goes dark. Here I am again...

...

Letters from the Lost Man, Part 6

Hit by a truck? That doesn't sound right. Wasn't that a dream? Maybe the other thing was a dream. What was that other thing again? Man, this is confusing. And that feels really good.

A warm numbness spreads over me. It doesn't really take the pain away; it just distracts me from it with more insistent sensations of happy-time goodness. I love opiates. The problem is they really don't help me sort all this out.

"How long have I been here?" I ask woozily.

"About three days. Well...four as of this morning," Nurse Bubbly answers.

Three days? I wonder if my wife knows. I do have a wife, don't I? Man, I'm feeling really tired.

"You should go to sleep, then," the nurse answers.

Holy crap! Did I say that out loud? I thought I was just thinking it. Wow, this stuff is really strong. I don't even feel the pain anymore. That's good. Now I have nothing distracting me from...

From what?

The darkness... It's calling to me. What before seemed such a scary and lonely place, now seemed peaceful and comforting. The sweet solitude is so welcoming after...all this.

No. This isn't the darkness. Where the hell am I?

...

"Oh, don't you just love a good book?"

"Mm..." I find myself compelled to say in response.

"Darling?"

I blink.

"Are you quite alright?"

"Oh yes, dear," I reply instinctively, but I'm not really sure I'm alright at all. Looking around, I take in the rolling green hills of the countryside. It's a lovely setting, if a bit overcast, though it doesn't really look as though it will rain. And even more beautiful is the young lady across from me. She grins and bats her eyelashes at me, clutching her book to her breast.

"If we leave now, we shall be back in time for tea," she says.

"Then let's hurry," I answer. I grin mischievously and jump up at a run.

The young lady chases after me, giggling the whole way.

I can't help but wonder what's going on. Though I don't feel like I've ever been here before, my feet carry me on a path they seem to know quite well. I can't really say I know who this girl is, but she seems quite familiar with me as she calls playfully to me in what I can only describe as "The Queen's English". Ah well, here I am. I suppose there's not much for me to do but watch what happens.

...

"Well, where have you two been?"

My companion wrinkles her nose at her elder sister. "We were out basking in the joy another day in each other's arms!" she shouts dramatically.

Her sister gasps and covers her mouth. "Elizabeth! Don't let mother hear you say such things. It isn't proper for a girl your age."

Liz scowls. "I'll be sixteen in but a few short weeks, Jane. I'm practically a woman."

Oh, jeez...she's underage. This is bad.

"That may be so," Jane concedes, "but until then, you have other obligations."

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should be going."

"Nonsense!" Liz cries. "Stay for tea."

"Oh, indeed," Jane sighs. "You may as well."

"Really, Jane, jealousy doesn't suite you," the younger girl teases her sibling.

Jane looks appalled. "You...you horrid little beast!"

"No, really," I insist. "I do have to be going."

Jane smiles politely. "Yes, it might be for the best. Father is home, and he may not be in the mood to entertain company."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Elizabeth prods.

"Well," Jane begins matter-of-factly, "Reginald saw a man in a black robe in the garden last night. Father had to speak with the constable, and now he's all out of sorts. I shouldn't be surpri-"

"Wait," I interrupt. "Did you say a man in a black robe?"

"Yes, I did." Jane confirms. "Why do you ask?"

I shake my head. "I thought I saw the same..."

What did I see? When was that? This isn't right. I don't belong here.

Wake up!

...

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Damn...Nurse Bubbly again. The other place was better. This has got to stop.

...

Letters from the Lost Man, Part 5.5

Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah...the darkness.

No, that isn't right at all. I was...in a hospital...a medical facility. There was a doct-, no wait, a nurse. That's right. Loretta. There was something about my memory...obviously. What was it?

But I'm in back in the darkness now. Or is it just dark in here? I have the distinct feeling I'm in some sort of "here". The question is, just where would that here be? It smells like gauze and alcohol swabs. I guess that answers that question.

What's that over there? A window... I don't remember there being a window there. Of course, that's why I'm here, isn't it? I can't remember. Loretta told me something...something I wasn't supposed to know. She was trying to help me, wasn't she?

Man, it's a bit chilly in here. This blanket isn't really doing much for me.

I look around as all my surroundings become more defined. The light is increasing slowly. I realize it's the sunrise through the window. It's a plain, white little room. There's another bed closer to the door, but it's empty. A TV hangs on the opposite wall. And what's this?

CALL NURSE

That's weird. For some reason, I don't think this call button is supposed to be here, just like the window. Let's push the button and see what happens.

...

"Good morning! Comfy?" a particularly bubbly nurse chirps as she pops into the room

Well, she's perky. "Not really. I'm cold," I explain, not really sure what else to say.

She frowns. "Aw, well, let's get you some more blankets, 'kay?"

Man, if she does that squeaky thing with her voice one more time, I'm going to get up out of this bed and knock her out.

"How are we feeling today, other than cold and cranky?" she asks as she closes the window.

I'm about to be a bit more than cranky, but to her I say, "Fine, I guess. Where's Loretta?"

Blank stare. "Loretta?" she parrots.

"Yes," I confirm testily, "The nurse who was here yesterday."

She shakes her head. "I don't know any Loretta that works here. I attended to you yesterday and the day before that."

I squint at her. Okay...I'm definitely getting weird vibes. And, man, does my side hurt! Just then, it occurs to me to ask, "Say, where am I, anyway?"

"West Wisconsin University Medical Center," she answers matter-of-factly.

Hmm...I think she just made that up. "Ah," I say, wincing through the pain that has now decided to start throbbing.

The nurse nods in feigned sympathy. "Looks like it's time for somebody's medicine," she coos.

"Why am I here?" seems the next logical question.

"Well, honey," she explains as she fills a hypodermic with what I hope is morphine, "You were hit by a truck."

...

Letters from the Lost Man, Part 5

The silence is so peaceful. The darkness, so idyllic. Here everything is simple. I was afraid of the dark before. Why? Ah yes, the unknown. But when there is the darkness, there is nothing else. No pressures, no expectations. Here in the vast nothing, with only my solitude beside me, I exist in a one-man utopia...

What the hell am I talking about?

I blink a few times and lift my head. The surface below me feels soft, like fabric. I notice a blanket draped over my body. And what's that shape over there? Is that a door? I look over my shoulder.

4:26 AM

Those glowing red symbols...that's the time. Man, I still have two hours. Wait...two hours for what? Well, for sleep, of course. I have to be at work at eight. How do I know that? Because this is my life, of course. Ugh, it's too early to get philosophical. Just try to get some more sleep.

"Are you okay, dear?"

I freeze. Who was that? Will you relax! It's only your wife. Oh yeah, of course...I, uh, forgot. "I'm fine...just really weird dreams tonight."

"Aw...well, try to go back to sleep, 'kay?"

"Yeah."

Yeah. Just try to go back to sleep. No problem. Just close my eyes and relax. Drift gently off to...pee. Damn it! I have to go to the bathroom. Do I really have to go that badly? Okay, if I don't go, I know I'm going to roll around half-asleep for the next two hours while I convince my body it can hold it 'till the alarm goes off. Yeah, this feels a lot more like reality.

Well, off to the bathroom with me. I stumble to the door and across the hall. The night light in the bathroom greets me as I empty my bladder. I really hope I don't dream for the rest of the night. I'm not sure I remember everything, but I know there was lots of strangeness while I was asleep. I gently tuck myself back in and drift off to...sleep.

...

"Honey, wake up...c'mon, babe, rise'n shine."

Oh jeez...did I sleep at all. Somebody turn off that damn alarm! Oh, wait...that's my job. Okay, up I get. I roll out of bed and walk around to the bedside table, eyes still closed, and swat the snooze button.

"All the way off," my wife reminds me. "It'll go off while you're in the shower and scare the hell out of me."

"Mmmnfrrn," I mumble, switching the alarm completely off.

Honestly, though, a shower sounds really nice about now. I give her a kiss and make my way to the bathroom. Man, my side is stiff. I'll have to stretch it out while I'm washing up.

Mornings are mundane. They have to be. We wake to semi-consciousness, and if things weren't absolutely normal and utterly routine, we'd be in a poor state to handle it. So, we walk zombified through our schedule. Hop in the shower. Dry off. Eat breakfast. Have coffee. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Hope you've regained enough self-awareness to drive yourself to work. Kiss wife. Leave house. If only once I got to work I could slip back into a half-comatose state and operate on this level of automation.

...

"Hey, man, how's it goin'?"

That's Tom. He sits in the cubicle next to mine. Nice guy. "I'm tired."

"Yeah, you look like crap."

"Gee, thanks."

"No prob. So, what happened? Linda keep you up all night? Rowr..."

I give him an unamused look. "No. Just had weird dreams... Actually, I think you might have been in one of them."

Tom laughs. "Hey, I like you, buddy, but keep that stuff to yourself."

I shake my head. "No, no. You were like a bartender or something."

"Yeah, I wish!" he snorts. "It'd be better than this place."

I nod enthusiastically in agreement.

"Hey, listen, that reminds me. Greer is probably going to come by looking for those edits later this morning. I overheard him bitching about them by the snack bar."

"Great..."

Greer is technically my boss in that he has the power to delegate assignments to me and complain to the higher ups when I don't do them to his liking. It's the higher ups, though, that I need to impress to get my ass out of this euphoria-inspiring cubicle siesta. Ah well, let's get to it.

"Hey, check it out," Tom grins, nodding towards, "the new girl."

Wow, she looks awfully familiar.

Tom pants, "Pretty hot, huh?"

I nod absently. Where have I seen that girl before? I watch her walk down the hall and into the copy room. I know I know her. I glance at my desk.

"I, uh...need to go make some copies," I mumble.

"Yeah, I bet you do," Tom chuckles. "Hey, make me some too, huh?"

I walk off, not even bothering to take some papers with me.

"Don't make me have to call Linda!" Tom warns my back.

Man, I look like an idiot. I should have grabbed something to take with me into the copy room. Now I'm standing here in the door, empty handed, just staring at this woman making copies. She's going to think I'm a stalker or something. No, no, it's okay. I'll just pretend to be getting some staples or something.

"Hi!" she says to me with a friendly smile.

"Staples!" I blurt out. Smooth... "I mean, hi. I'm, uh, looking for some staples."

She looks around briefly. "Hmm..." she says, "I'm kind of new around here. I'm not really sure where they keep them."

"Oh, there over here," I point to the supply cabinet. Brilliant. This is working just like it did in my head.

"Ah," she nods. "So, why did you ask me?"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry. It's been a bit of a rough morning." I step over to the cabinet. "Let me just get these and I'll be out of your way."

She giggles and puts out her hand. "Let me introduce myself. My name's-"

"Loretta."

Silence...when it's between two people, it has a way of making them feel uncomfortable. That or whatever was said before the silence is what makes it uncomfortable.

"How did you know my name?"

I take a deep breath. "Oh, well, I happened to overhear. By the snack bar this morning I overheard someone saying that new girl Loretta would be starting today. I just assumed it was you."

Nice...now that really was smooth.

"Oh," is all she can manage.

"I'm going to go ahead and get those staples now," I tell her.

"Okay," she says as she goes about her copying. "It was nice meeting you," she calls as I walk out the door.

I turn. "It was nice meeting you too."

Well, that was interesting. What's even more interesting is how I really did know her name. Now that I think about it, she may have been in one of my dreams last night, but...how could I possibly know? I must have seen her come in for an interview or something. Maybe I really did overhear it. There has to be a logical expla-

Who the hell is that? Some guy in a huge black robe is standing by my cubicle. Is this some kind of joke? He's dressed up like death, but it isn't my birthday. This is definitely near the top of my list of weird days.

"Hey, who are you?" I ask.

The robed figure turns. His hood is pulled to low for me to make out his face. Before I can say anything else, he turns and runs.

"Hey! Come back here!" I demand. When he doesn't, I chase after him.

Wait a minute...why am I doing this? I turn down the main corridor just in time to see the back of a black robe disappear around the next corner. Why would I chase this guy? I reach the end of the corridor as the door to the stairwell clicks shut. This doesn't make sense. I throw open the door and bound down steps several at a time, almost killing myself in the process. This is important for some reason. I bolt out into the ground floor lobby and see the figure dashing across the street outside. I have to find out who this guy is. I explode out the building entrance and run into the street. Where'd he go?

The sudden blast of a loud horn shatters the moment. I look just in time to see the semi trying to screech to a halt. Well, this sucks.

Pain!

Nothing.

...

Letters from the Lost Man, Part 4

"You're in a medical facility. There was...an accident, and well...the doctors are trying to help you," Loretta explains.

"You'll have to do a little better than that," I tell her skeptically with narrowed eyes.

She sighs. "Listen, I can't tell you too much information. The doctors are trying to rebuild your life for you. They're trying to give you...your memories back."

My brow furrows reflexively. Something about that doesn't quite make sense. "Why do it this way? Why not just tell me about my life and see if I remember?" I ask.

"Well...we've tried that," she answers.

"Really?" I say with continued disbelief. "I don't remember that."

"Precisely," Loretta rebuts gravely. "Dr. Spector's technique is revolutionary. It will change the way we treat...uh, people in your condition. The benefit to society and the individual is immeasurable."

"Dr. Spector, huh? Sounds like a spook to me. Not like anyone I want to have bouncing around in my head. And besides, his 'technique' seems to be flawed." I indicate my still aching side.

Loretta closes her eyes and nods. "Yes, it still has to be perfected, but once we figure out how to better control the images, you'll be as good as new...better even."

"Really?" I repeat with the same doubt. "Sounds an awful lot like I'm a guinea pig. Especially with that business you mentioned about the doctors erasing my memory if they found me awake. I don't know that I like that idea... No, actually, I'm certain I don't like that idea."

"Please, Mr..." she pauses again at the slip, "please relax. Like I said, I'm trying to help you."

"And what's with this 'Mr...' stuff?" I demand. "What is it you keep almost calling me?"

"I can't tell you that," she says firmly. "Listen, I've probably already tainted the experiment beyond repair, but so far nothing else has really worked. I don't like what they're doing to you either, but I do like what it will mean for the world if we succeed. So, I'm asking you, please cooperate. Help me and you help yourself."

Quite frankly, this is outrageous. Here I am, lying in a hospital bed, listening to this chick telling me that they're basically doing some kind of mind control experiments on me to supposedly help me regain my memory. How do I know they're not the reason it's gone in the first place? This really sucks, but at the moment, I'm not really sure that I have many other options but to trust her. That is, if any of this is even real in the first place.

"If I were so inclined to help you, what would I do?" I find myself compelled to ask.

Loretta smiles. It's a damn good thing for her that she's so attractive. Otherwise I don't think I'd be as friendly as I've been so far. "Well," she says, "the main thing is just to be receptive. If you keep an open mind and go with it when things seem, well, normal...you should be okay. After a while, it should start feeling familiar to you, and once all the memories are there, they'll let you out of here."

"I would be very surprised if things started to get normal," I put in dryly.

"They should soon," she assures me. "We're on the verge. For now I'll try to fudge the data so that the Dr. Spector doesn't think it's to the point where we need to start over again. As it stands, you could have easily written off any strange experiences as bad dreams. That's how I'll make it seem."

I can't help but snicker sarcastically. "Honey, this is all just one big bad dream."

Loretta eyes me seriously. "So, will you help?" she asks.

I stare back at her. "Well, just out of curiosity, what's to stop me from just waltzing out of here right now?"

"This is a heavily guarded location," she explains. "I assure you, if you tried, you wouldn't get far."

"And then they wipe my slate..." I finish.

"Pretty much."

It is chilling to me that a technology exists to simply erase who I am from even myself. Identity theft, fraud, even total deletion from society would be tolerable when compared with the idea of losing every memory that made you who you are today. I don't know who I am, and even what little I know of myself now could be completely taken away...and the scary part is I might never know. Well, damn it, I'm not going to let them take it anymore. I'm going to get through this...experiment, and when they let me out, I'm going to do everything in my power to find out what happened to me and who I really am, assuming I'm not who they make me think I am.

"Okay then," I say after that thoughtful pause. "I'll help you to help me. But if you're lying to me, you better hope they erase my memory...and you better hope it sticks." I don't feel I need to say anything else.

Loretta nods, though the look in her eyes seems hesitant. "I want to help you, and that's the truth."

Well, though all kinds of alarms are going off about the rest of it, I do believe her about that. Reluctantly, I nod. "Do what you must," I tell her.

With that she reaches over to a nearby stand and grabs a hypodermic and a vial. She draws out a measure of the colorless liquid in the vial and clears the needle of air bubbles. With a sympathetic look, she puts the needle into my arm and slowly pushes down the plunger.

"Good night..." she whispers.

Thoughts come swirling at me from all directions. Half-formed hallucinations of memories I'm not sure I've ever had pelt me without end. Sounds of music, voices, explosions ring through my ears. All my senses are overwhelmed by stimuli screaming all the experiences of life at me until I wake up, once again, in darkness. Curled up in the loneliness, I am content to just rest for a while. Where was I just a moment ago...?

...