Chapter Text
He sat on the exam table, feet dangling over the edge as the doctor entered.
"Good morning! Let's have a look at you," she said briskly. He recognized her as his physiotherapist, though her name escaped him.
Donning her stethoscope, she pressed the cold metal bell directly to his bare chest without warning. He involuntarily flinched at the icy touch.
"Deep breath in and out please," she instructed curtly. She moved the chilled diaphragm across his back as he breathed on command. Her brusque efficiency bordered on callousness.
With practiced hands she palpated his lymph nodes, abdomen, and joints. "Any pain or mobility issues?" she inquired. He mutely shook his head.
"Great." She shone a penlight in his eyes, checking his pupillary response. "Follow my finger." She moved it back and forth. Then she tapped a reflex hammer below his knees, eliciting a reflexive kick.
"Do you remember me?" she asked with a searching look.
"Why do you say that, Kressa?" he asked, a little nervous, but he captured her name just in time from the little plaque on her chest, and he hoped that using a question as an answer would work.
Kressa tilted her head like a bird eyeing a worm, debating whether to peck or let it squirm away. "Oh, no reason," she said lightly. "Just doctor optimism about my favorite patient's recovery."
Her favorite patient. Him. Though he'd lay odds his file contained words like psychopathy and sociopath, even though he couldn't remember his own middle name.
And she pursed her lips. He noticed a tightness in her smile, a guarded look in her eyes. It seemed almost as if she wanted him to remain forgetful.
After abattery of cognitive tests, she concluded the exam. "Everything checks out fine. We'll continue to monitor your progress." She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before leaving.
He rubbed his shoulder, feeling a phantom ache where Kressa squeezed. Touch forms bonds. Bonds mean liability. And she didn't strike him as the caregiving type. He began dressing himself.
Shirt (presumed personal effect): Two-toned blue and white tussah silk. Branded label partially reads "Sch_a_" and "21 Place Vendôme Paris."
Trousers: Charcoal gray wool blend with four gold button fasteners displaying no signs of tarnish or wear. Textile tag unreadable, composition cannot be conclusively determined.
Overcoat: Thigh-length, dark gray. Exterior label denotes "96% Fleece Wool, 4% Elastine." Size 48. Condition suggests moderate previous usage by original owner.
Footwear: Black leather cap toe oxfords, slip on style, size 11D. Tread wear indicates frequent prior wearing.
He wasn't fully sure where he was headed, but his footsteps carried him in that direction nonetheless.
Deep breath in.
Now he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of frankincense and myrrh wafting down the hallway. The rich, pungent aroma.
Dusk filtered through the arched windows, bathing the Sanctum in a serene violet glow. One by one the clerical staff packed up their desks, casting furtive glances his way as they left. The evening guard shift took their places, hands tensed on weapons.
"Goodnight, sir," a passing nurse bid him. "Not too late now." Her smile held a strained edge. He simply nodded in return.
His measured footfalls echoed through the emptying passages. The mouths of the guards tightened at his approach. But they stood aside, allowing him to pass unimpeded.
At last he reached the vaulted basement where the smell of sanctity gave way once more to the cool sting of antiseptics. A cold library of the once-was, each drawer a tight-lipped novel of flesh and bone. His stare snagged on the one silent draw, the one without a name, a cold envelope of anonymity in a place where stories ended with a period, not a question mark.
He woke the computer, a low buzz accompanying the flickering of the monitor as it coughed into life. The screen spilled out cold, hard facts into the sterile air, the digital heartbeat of the dead. The report unfurled before him, a scroll of the newly departed:
DESCRIPTION OF REMAINS (pre-autopsy)
Location found: Recovered from a storm-lashed beach, devoid of witnesses.
Sex: Male
Age: Late 20s to early 30s from skeletal and dental analysis.
Ancestry: Northern European suggested by fair hair.
Height: between 1.75m and 1.85m.
Build: Fit but slender from muscle and fat layers.
Distinctive marks: large, circular scars on back, possibly impalements. Reddish corneal discoloration.
CLOTHING
Shirt: Faded beige polyester (65%) and cotton (35%) blend. Label removed.
Pants: Black relaxed fit recycled polyester (65%) shell, with rayon (30%) and spandex (3%). Polyester (82%) and cotton (18%) pocket lining. Button fly.
Underwear: Blue jersey briefs. Embroidered message reads " If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky."