He awoke to the sound of waves breaking peacefully on a shore. The sound invoked an uneasy feeling of déjà vu, which, as he grew more alert, changed into one of oh‑no‑not‑again. Drowsily he wondered if the French had a phrase for that too, but he was soon distracted by a small thought which barged its way to the front of his mind. 'Keep your eyes shut!' it demanded. Andrew waited for other thoughts to come forward and explain the existence of the first one. Then, with the sickening abruptness of a police car appearing in a rear‑view mirror, the memories came flooding back. All the events of the previous few days were there, but they were overshadowed by the nightmare image of that giant wave, studded with screaming human faces, rolling inexorably towards him. What had happened? Had he really caused all that, simply by opening his eyes? It seemed utterly inconceivable, but that was what the Adviser had told him.

"Hey, Adviser, what happened?" asked Andrew, his eyes still firmly shut. "Hello? Are you there? ... Speak to me damn it!" he demanded becoming aggravated by the Adviser's silence. "If you don't answer me I'll open my eyes again. I'm not kidding! ... All right I warned you!"

He opened his eyes, too annoyed to be fearful any more.

He was lying in a picture postcard, one of those beach scenes where the colours are just too beautiful to be true. The golden sand sloped gently to the water's edge. An exquisitely turquoise ocean stretched away to the horizon. Behind him was a wall of lush emerald vegetation. It started off thinly with a few scattered coconut palms but further back it was dense and impenetrable. To the left the beach went on forever, finally disappearing in the haze, but to the right it ran for less than a mile before it curved in on itself and was hidden by the forest. The sky was almost entirely clear, only a few wispy white clouds, far out to sea, marred the dazzlingly blue canopy. The sun was hot but not fierce; he could feel its warmth soaking through his skin and into his body.

His first realization, having recovered from the extreme beauty of the surroundings, was that the Adviser had gone. The black column, which had previously been sticking out of his shoulder, was also missing. He was wearing the same clothes that he had earlier put on at the hospital. At least they were of the same material and style but they no longer had the complicated series of flaps and buttons needed to fit around the Adviser's column.

He stood up with the aid of the crutch which was lying beside him. His leg was still, disappointingly, in the cast. He took off his jacket and shirt, laid them on the sand and examined his right shoulder. There was no sign of the surgery he thought would be needed to remove the column.

The Adviser's absence brought on a pang of loneliness, but it could not survive in such a delightful setting, and was quickly displaced by a peaceful contentment. Andrew took off his shoes and socks, and lay back down on the warm sand. He did not have the faintest idea where he was or why he was there, but he didn't care.

His mind lounged, along with his body. Unwilling to review the alarming events of the past days he day‑dreamed about dusky maidens in grass‑skirts, flamboyant fruit daiquiris, and delicious exotic foods. However he was soon wrenched back to reality by a loud squawky voice.

"Oh, so there you are!"

Andrew opened his eyes and laughed. Standing on the sand, close to his feet, was a small and very scruffy parrot. The feathers of the bird were brilliant shades of green, blue, red and yellow, but they were almost all in disarray - the bird looked as if it had been sucked, backwards, through a vacuum cleaner.

"Who's a not‑so pretty boy then?" said Andrew still laughing.

"Ah, I was afraid of this," squawked the bird, "the dramatic turn of recent events has unhinged your mind."

"What!" said Andrew surprised by the bird's impressive vocabulary.

The bird began to walk up the beach, towards Andrew's head. It held its wings outstretched as if for balance. At one point it tripped and fell face down in the sand. It lay there for several moments breathing heavily, then stoically pushed itself upright with its wings, spat the sand from its mouth, and continued its unsteady walk.

The sight of this was too much for Andrew, who was reduced to hysterical laughter.

"Now Andrew," said the bird patronizingly, having stopped a foot from Andrew's head. "I want you to just lie back and relax. Do you remember what's happened to you?"

"Hey, how do know my name?" asked Andrew forgetting he was talking to a parrot.

"Just listen to what I say and try to concentrate - I'll explain everything," said the bird in as clear and patient a voice as it could manage. "You don't remember me, but we used to be quite attached to each other," the bird paused to allow itself a brief chuckle. "My name is Fred but you used to call me Adviser, I am -" he was interrupted by a startled cry from Andrew.

"What! Where have you been, and what on earth has happened to you?"

"It's amazing how a few key words can, when used in the correct manner, instantly restore the sanity of someone suffering from a nervous breakdown."

"You mean I had a nervous breakdown? Well, that would explain that horrific vision I had of the whole world melting around me," said Andrew with relief.

"No, no, that happened all right. I mean that, when I first got here, you were babbling like a game-show host."

"Babbling? Oh right, no I wasn't babbling, that's what you always say to parrots."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. It's traditional. Whenever anyone sees a parrot they say -"

"Okay, okay, let's just forget that one shall we? I can't blame you for being a little out‑to‑lunch after all we've been through. In fact, you'd have every right to take the whole day off. A casual observer would have had just cause to question my own actions. I've just spent the last half hour trying to communicate with a coconut tree," revealed Fred.

"You what?" said Andrew unable to suppress a smile.

"I thought it was you," said Fred.

"You thought I was a coconut tree?" said Andrew incredulously.

"It was a simple mistake anyone could have made. The last thing I remember, before all hell was let loose, is sitting on your shoulder. So, naturally, when I woke up miraculously transformed into a parrot sitting on a branch of a tree, it was a small logical step to suppose that the tree was you. I spent a considerable time trying to elicit a reply or even a sign that it knew of my existence, but I drew a blank."

"How did you get in such a mess?" asked Andrew, clenching his fists in an effort to hold off another bout of giggling.

"One of my attempts at communication involved a repeated pattern of vibrations, which I achieved by bouncing up and down on one of the palm leaves. During this attempt, which was - needless to say - my last, I lost what little balance I had, and fell head first out of the tree," said Fred oblivious to Andrew's shrieks of laughter.

"But ... but ... why didn't ... you fly ... down?" said Andrew his speech punctuated with sobs of laughter.

"I tried, believe me, I tried, I flapped my wings but all that did was turn my vertical fall into a spiral plummet. It became apparent, just before I hit the ground, that I didn't know how to fly. In fact, I don't know the first thing about being a bird, I can't even walk without tripping over my own feet. I just don't have the right background knowledge to be suddenly changed into a parrot." The bird shook its head, "You're going to damage yourself permanently if you keep laughing like that. Anyone with the slightest amount of empathy would not be amused by my plight. But of course, respect for someone else's problems is too much to expect from you,"

At this point Fred had intended to turn sharply on his heels and stride off in disgust. Unfortunately he merely succeeded in falling over again. The humiliation of the situation was just too much for him, so he just lay, where he had fallen, and let out a long plaintive squawk.

A few minutes later, Andrew had recovered enough to feel guilty about his behaviour. He carefully picked up the bird and began stroking its feathers back into alignment.

"I'm sorry, but you must admit the whole thing is pretty hilarious."

"I suppose that, given different circumstances, like a role reversal, the events could appear somewhat comic," said the bird grudgingly. "But tell me, what happened to you?"

"Nothing really, I just woke up, lying here, on the beach."

"But you're half-undressed."

"I've been sunbathing."

"Sunbathing?" said Fred.

"You lie in the sun and your skin turns brown, or in my case, a flourescent pink."

"Practising some kind of party trick?" ventured the bird.

"No, well it's not easy to explain - but it's very relaxing."

"Ah," said Fred, passing it off as a mild behavioural disorder, the likes of which afflicted most of the humans he had met. "During this period of relaxation, did you formulate a plan of action?"

"Yes, I decided to lie here and wait for something to happen."

"Not the most dynamic of plans."

"No," agreed Andrew. "But it worked, after all if I'd just wandered off we probably wouldn't have met up again."

"I fear our destinies are not so easily untangled."

"Now that reminds me," said Andrew sternly, "I think it would be best if you told me everything you know about what happened back there."

"I don't have the foggiest idea. The strangest thing, as far as I'm concerned, is that one minute the whole set‑up seemed perfectly clear and logical, and the next it was transparently a complete sham."

"You mean after your tête‑à‑tête with the assassin?"

"Exactly."

"Then what was all that about me keeping my eyes closed to stop the world falling apart."

"Ah, yes, that."

"Yes, that!"

"Well it was a difficult situation, I wanted time to think, the last thing I needed was you to start running around like a headless chicken. I figured you were less likely to panic if you couldn't see what was going on. So I pandered to your enormous ego by suggesting that you could control it. I should have guessed you wouldn't have the will‑power to actually keep them closed for longer than five seconds."

"I opened my eyes simply because -"

"Okay, let's not go into that now - no point in crying over spilt buildings," interrupted Fred.

"But all those people, dead!" said Andrew with remorse.

"Do you think they really existed?" posed Fred thoughtfully.

"Well ... I don't know. What about Brian - he was real ... wasn't he? ... I mean ..." Andrew lapsed into silence, his mind was too busy to cope with speech. It was generating all the permutations of what could or could not have been real. It wasn't long, though, before it decided that, quite frankly, it didn't give a shit and it might as well have a rest and listen to what Fred had to say.

"I really don't understand any of it," said Fred in a depressed tone. "Still," he continued more optimistically, "perhaps we can glean some more information from this place. Let's go and find out."

"Okay, let's do it!" said Andrew melodramatically.

"Mind if I ride with you? I find walking very tedious."

"Not at all."

So Andrew began limping along the beach towards the bend in the coast‑line, with a crutch under his arm and a parrot on his shoulder.

Half an hour later they had reached the point where the beach curved sharply to the right.

"Aha!" said Andrew as if he had predicted the view down to the last grain of sand.

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