Chapter 3

The Amazing Roger sat bow tie askew in his tawdry dressing room. He was tossing down his second Scotch. He looked anything but amazing. Darlene, looking even uglier in half-removed makeup, was ranting furiously.

"Why in the fuck do we pay Johnny if he can't control who comes in the door?" she screamed. "Our Mr. Kelly should never have been allowed in... much less allowed in with a fucking gun in his hand. We are lucky to be alive. Jesus H. Christ... just think of it... what if he had shot a customer? Or me? Or you? We would've had fucking police all over... oh my god, the questions. They would have asked all the questions that we don't want to have to answer!"

Yes, dear, thought Roger.

"We have a great thing going here, Roger... and Johnny fucked up badly... he almost fucked up the entire deal."

"I'll deal with Johnny," sighed Roger. "Right now I am much more concerned with what that gunshot might have done to the subjects. It might have brought them back to attention. If they did start attending at the wrong time, then they may have registered a memory. That would really fuck up them... and us... in the worst sort of way. That would make them completely useless to us. Subjects don't last very long as it is and finding new ones, the right ones, is very difficult."

Roger's forceful lecture lost some of its punch because of his tired expression.

"I can assure you that finding new subjects is a lot better than dealing with the wrong memories. Shit. What a fucking mess. Goddamn Johnny! This is his fault!" shouted Darlene.

Roger threw off his tie and cummerbund, and then poured another drink for himself. Darlene continued her tirade while covering her face with green cleansing cream. After a moment, she literally looked as if she had come from another planet. The cream, however, did not slow her acrid speech.

"Just be glad that you got them all back under control as quickly as you did," Darlene continued. "And, thank god, you were able to convince the audience that it was all part of the show... that extemporaneous lecture on seeing and not seeing, the 'powers of perception' bullshit was a bit of genius. Did you deal with Mr. Kelly afterward?"

"Yeah," said Roger, "he won't be joining us anymore. Too bad, he was a good subject and his wife had great tits."

"He was a loose-cannon from the start. And, her ass was too wide for her boobs... in my opinion."

Roger chuckled at Darlene's off-handed remark. Quickly, however, reality returned and his smile vanished.

"None of that matters," he muttered. "Remembering—subjects remembering—does matter... big time. I will stay fucking worried until we can get the Smiths and the others back in here and deal with what they might remember from tonight."

"And you should fire fucking Johnny! Ok?"

By all appearances, the following week was like every week in Ken Smith's life—routine, nothing different, nothing out of place. Yet, something troubled Ken profoundly, an itch that he couldn't scratch, something that would not seem to let go even though he could not identify it. It became so troubling and distracting that he actually was late for an appointment on Tuesday! That had never happened in Ken's entire professional life.

By Wednesday, Ken's sense of confusion and uneasiness had grown into stifling fear, a debilitating terror of something unknown, something just beyond his mind's reach. He felt constant panic and couldn't concentrate at all on his job or anything else.

Wednesday... golf day, thought Ken. The last thing I feel like doing is playing golf.

As was the case every Wednesday afternoon, it was time for Ken to go to the golf club. On this day, instead, he sat in his office staring at the ceiling... and tried desperately to get his nerves under control. He didn't want to golf, yet, the thought of canceling also unnerved him because, in Ken's well-ordered life, he always played golf on Wednesday afternoons... at least almost always.

Ken's orderly schedule had included two choices on Wednesday afternoons—golf followed by a poker game, if the weather was fair; or just poker if the weather prohibited the golf. This worked great for the Smiths because Beth always attended her Bible study class on Wednesday nights.

The more Ken stared at the ceiling, the more his anxiety grew. He was convinced that something was horribly wrong. Finally out of sheer panic, he called Beth.

"Hi, honey." Beth's voice was its usual calm. "I didn't expect to hear from you this afternoon. Anything wrong?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I'm just leaving for Bible study, dear. No problem here. Just an ordinary Wednesday. Are you ok?"

"I just felt funny, don't know why, and I was concerned about you, baby."

"What a sweetie, you are. Well, I'm fine. So, go and have fun with the guys... and don't lose too much of our money playing poker. I love you a bunch."

"I love you too, baby."

Ken put the receiver in its cradle, and then picked it up again.

"Hello?"

"Larry, this is Ken Smith. Listen, I'm gonna have to miss our golf game today... sorry."

"Jeez, Ken. I've never known you to miss. Hope you aren't sick or something."

"No, nothing like that... just have some other things to take care of, that's all. Sorry."