• Prologue:
    A moment’s relapse

    "“Good sense is mankind's most equitably divided endowment. . .the differences of opinion are not due to difference in intelligence, but merely to the fact that we use different approaches and consider different things. For it is not enough to have a good mind: one must use it well."
    ~ A quote from
    Rene Descartes


    “What happened here?”

    My head felt funny, like feeling relief after being run over. My head’s pounding, I couldn’t help but touch my forehead even though it wouldn’t bring me ease.

    “What was I doing?”

    I tried to jog my memory. As much of a chore it was with this headache, it was becoming clear. I walked into town to buy some food and then I was pulled into the alley. I was thrown to the wall and pounded without a second word. Five thugs, taking their turns at me with low-handed blows. I remember thinking that if I could just get a straight shot I might be able to endure it and get away. They dislocated my left arm, didn’t they?

    “Is that true?”

    I clenched my shoulder. It felt fine, in fact I didn’t feel anything aside from the throbbing headache. The last thing I remember is being held to the wall by my throat and then… Nothing.

    “That can’t be right.”

    Well then, what of the thugs? Where were they now? A quick scan of the area… and I spy four unconscious thugs near wear I am, and the fifth ling face down with a pipe next to him just outside the alley.

    “What happened here?”

    They were badly beaten and the one that held me to the wall by my throat had a broken arm. There were rusty pipes not far from where he was holding me and there’s rust on my hand, but it’s to far to reach from where I was. And even if I did get my hands on one then why break his arm if I could have struck him in the head.

    “Wait a second.”

    I recall… a sixth thug, a girl coming out from the building to join the others. I had her by the throat up in the air. She was crying. And then I let her go. Did she run?

    “Did I do all this?”

    One last thing… I can remember one last thing. A voice in my head, saying something. What was it, what did it say again?

    “Do you want me to help you open that door a little further?”

    A door… with chains. A red light, a burning sensation, and a man in a green suit, with a pinwheel in his hat? What did I do? All the holes in my memory seem red to me…