The young men appeared. One of them pulled at her bag. I didn't know what to do.
I raised a hand. I shouted, "Hey".
I watched as my briefcase fell to the floor and they kicked me into unconsciousness.
* * *
Still as a remote viewer, I saw myself in a series of disconnected images. First in the ambulance, then in a private room. The nurse was with me when I awoke.
"So I'm alive," I said.
I was discharged a few days later. On the way home, the cab driver told me it was OK to take things easy. I undressed to find my bandages covered in blood. I tore them off to examine the wound, but there was only a small pinhole emitting a fountain of blood.
Anthony made me a cup of coffee. Didn't he remember how much I detested it? What kind of friend was he?
"I think something strange is happening," I remarked.
"You may be brain damaged," said Mary. "You should go back to hospital."
I walked. A car skidded to a halt. "Get in," said the nurse.
* * *
"Can you hear me?" the nurse said.
I grabbed his arm.
He rose slowly. "Never mind. We'll try again tomorrow."
* * *
"I think I've just understood what happened," I said to Catherine. "I dreamed I woke up, but I was still in a coma."
"That's pretty deep, Carl," she replied. "Because you're still unconscious. I suppose that means the same thing's going to happen in the second half of the book."
I could feel myself disappearing ever further up my arsehole. I had to reconnect with my inner self to get myself to wake up.
I went into a record shop to search for the catalyst to my life. "Could you play this for me?" I asked, handing over Good Golly Miss Molly.
He did so. "It's a bit repetitive," I said.
Things got worse in the bookshop. "Why is the only sentence in the entire book, Call Me Ishmael, repeated three hundred thousand times?"
The assistant replied: "You clearly know a thing or two about dull writing."
It was no good. I had to find my childhood home.
"Where is it?" asked the cabby.
"I can't remember exactly. Somewhere in the suburbs."
"I know where you mean."
I climbed to my parents' room, but just as I was about to awake something pulled me back. And then I had it. Either sleeping or awake, this was who I was. I could string together a random series of words, CUBA TOKE DRILL TALLOW, and I would still be me. Cool, huh?
Catherine and I made love and went for a walk. "This is idyllic," I said.
In the final relocation, I saw the young men kicking me again. And then I woke and picked up the briefcase.
The digested read ... digested
Am I conscious? You won't be by the end.
