chapter zero

"Emergency! Emergency! Major Memory Malfunction!"

"Oh, shut up."

"But ... But,"

"I've told you before I'm not going to listen to you if you persist with that pseudo Hi‑Tec gobbledygook. Now, for goodness' sake calm down, take a deep breath, and count to ten."

"One point zero zero, two point zero zero, three -"

"Not out loud, you meticulous moron."

"Sorry, but I really don't know what to do ... There are no relevant emergency procedures to handle it."

"Handle what?"

"This Major Mem-"

"I'm warning you!"

"All the memories have gone!"

"All?"

"Well, no, not all, but all the important ones."

"Gone?"

"Yes, vanished, disappeared, stolen, lost without trace-"

"Okay, okay, spare me the thesaurus, I get the idea. You've looked everywhere?"

"I did a complete top-down inventory status analysis."

"Does that mean; yes?"

"Yes."

"What happened just before the loss?"

"Those memories have gone too."

"Hmmm. Are you sure you didn't accidentally push the Shit-I-can't-take-any-more-of-this-why-don't-I-just-forget-about-it button?"

"The amnesia trip-switch? No, I looked in the auxiliary storage area; there's nothing there except the normal repressed childhood-experiences. The memories aren't just hidden; they've been removed."

"Well I suppose you can consider your knickers justifiably twisted; it is rather an unusual problem. I guess we'll just have to wake him up."

"If we restore consciousness, in the absence of his internal identity token, there is a high probability that he will suffer an irreversible degradation of cerebral functionality."

"Good grief! There you go again. Have you ever thought of studying English as a second language? It comes in handy for conversations; you see the trick is that everyone can understand what the frig you're talking about."

"I'm just quoting the manual."

"Well don't. You weren't, by any chance, trying to tell me that he might go bonkers if he woke up and couldn't remember his name?"

"Yes, the ramifications would be catastrophic."

"Catastrophic, eh? Now there's a word. What happens if a whole country is destroyed by an earthquake? How will you describe it? Very catastrophic? Extremely catastrophic? Cataclysmically catastrophic?"

"Yes, okay, I see what you mean."

"I wish I could say the same about you and the bloody manuals."

"I've always found them very straightforward."

"They're about as straightforward as the instructions on a Korean washing‑machine. You said yourself that there's no mention of this problem and yet the solution is as plain as the vacuum in your head. We don't know what the hell has gone wrong and the only way we're going to find out is to wake him up. If it looks like he's going to blow a head‑gasket then we'll just feed him the idea that he's still dreaming."

"Brilliant idea, Sir."

"Don't start that Sir crap again. What's he dreaming about? Maybe there's a way we can link in his memory loss."

"Ah, the dream."

"Don't tell me it's one of your creations?"

"Um, yes, it is, actually."

"Did you remember what I told you?"

"Well ... the manual says-"

"I don't give a monkey's giblets what the manual says. I don't want those kinds of dreams screwing him up - he's got enough problems in the real world without being persecuted by nightmares. What he needs is more confidence, more guts, more bloody‑mindedness, and a good kick up the ego. That's where his dreams should be leading him."

"But he's a very sensitive man, he's not cut out to be brash and demanding. He's won a lot of friends by being modest and unassuming."

"Sensitive - my ass. He's a pathetic namby‑pamby. The only reason people like him is because they know he's not a threat. He's too chicken to take a gamble and try to make something of his life."

"The manual stresses the need to instil a sensible awareness of his limitations."

"Limitations which are reinforced by the dreams you give him, the guy is so tied up with self‑criticism it's a wonder he's got the courage to get out of bed in the morning."

"It's better than being an arrogant braggart."

"So the manual says; personally I have my doubts. Well, we can't do anything about it now. What arty‑farty garbage have you come up with this time?"

"He's on a junk-"

"A junk."

"Yes, a Chinese junk and it's drifting - there's no wind. The crew is in turmoil; they're running all over the ship and shouting in Chinese, but he doesn't know why."

"Nor do I."

"It represents the aimless and confused state of his life."

"Very profound. Is that it?"

"No, there's a frog-"

"A frog."

"Yes, a very large one, or it could be a toad - I never can tell the difference. It's questioning him about his last tax return - I'm exploring the theme of crime and punishment."

"Well you've certainly out‑done yourself this time. Where's the girl?"

"Girl, Sir?"

"Don't try to play the innocent with me, laddie. You know, as well as I do, that every dream you set up has the promise of sex lurking somewhere in the wings. If I remember correctly, you have a passion for red‑heads, they're usually writhing around on silk sheets, panting like a rabid dog."

"She's in a cabin, below deck."

"You know what happens if you let him get to the girl?"

"Uh, yes."

"And, if you don't, he's frustrated for the rest of the day."

"But he needs some kind of sexual release; he's not getting the real thing any more."

"Well, whose fault is that? Oh, I know he's not particularly attractive - he can't expect to have a million women rushing after him - but if he had a bit of backbone he'd be able to pick‑up something."

"But that's the whole point; he doesn't want to just pick‑up a woman; he treats women with respect, not as objects for sexual gratification."

"Bullshit, he's just too scared to risk a rejection. Hell, most women enjoy being chatted up. He doesn't have to be too pushy - just give them the opportunity to say yes, no, or take me, take me, I'm yours. So, from now on, I don't want to see any more sex in his dreams; we'll let frustration force him into action."

"If you say so, Sir."

"I do. Come on, let's wake him up and see what happens."

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