My eyes seemed to close of their own volition. I knew that I couldn't keep them from closing, but I didn't even want to try.
"You are now in a hypnotic trance, and you will respond to my voice."
She was speaking in a soft, quiet monotone that was somehow extremely persuasive. I found that I felt tremendous affection for the lovely sound of her voice — that sensual, cajoling voice — and I wanted to do whatever it asked of me.
"Do you understand?" she asked.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. Now we are going to place this ring device onto your head and attach the electrodes." I felt someone moving the piece of equipment onto my head. It fit like a headband, and I remembered the maze of wires that had run from it.
"As I speak to you, Nick, you will receive audio-visual data from the machine. The things you see and hear will be pleasant and will assist you in reaching the deepest state of trance." I heard a button click somewhere, and then a swirl of beautiful colors assailed the blackness Tanya had created. Along with the colors came a soft swell of music, beautiful music I'd never heard before. And Tanya's voice accompanied the lovely sights and sounds.
"All the muscles of your body are gently relaxing, easily relaxing, and a great sense of euphoria is engulfing you. You are on an escalator that is moving downward. With each foot you move slowly downward, and you are becoming even more relaxed."
The machine created the escalator for me, and in a smooth-riding glide I was carried down through the maze of colors toward a soft darkness.
"You are nearing the bottom of the escalator now, and you are going in a very, very deep trance. You are completely receptive to my voice." I reached the bottom, and I was in a magnificent, free-floating blackness I never wanted to leave.
"I will now ask you to count to five, but you will skip the numeral three. You will not be able to speak the number three. Now count to five."
My lips moved. "One, two, four, five." My mouth and brain would have nothing to do with the number three.
"Very good," Tanya said. "Now tell me your name and who you are."
Something deep inside me balked, but there was that all-powerful voice asking me, so I answered, "I am Nick Carter. I am employed by AXE, where I have the code name N…" I couldn't remember the number, and a rating of Killmaster." I went on to give more details of identification.
"All right. Now listen to me carefully. You are going to forget everything you have just told me and everything else connected with your past. You are at this very moment developing complete and total amnesia."
A strange thing happened. An exotic tremor passed through me, and when it was gone, I felt very lightheaded. When the physical effects passed, I felt different. It was a subtle difference, but it was as if the whole world around me had disappeared. There was nothing left in the universe except my floating body and Tanya's voice.
"Who are you?"
I thought for a minute. Nothing came. I tried harder, but I still couldn't answer. I had no identity. I was an entity floating in a vast blackness, waiting to be named, classified, and categorized.
"I don't know," I said.
"Where do you live?"
"In this blackness," I responded.
"Where have you come from?"
"I don't know."
"All right. I will refresh your memory. You will now see the image of a man before you." The machine hummed, and I did see a man. He was tall, with dark hair and gray eyes. "The man is you," she continued. "You are Rafael Chávez."
"Rafael Chávez," I said.
"You are a Venezuelan who spent a few years in the United States. You were born in Margarita and educated in Caracas. You have been engaged in several lines of work, but now you are an active revolutionary."
"Yes," I said.
"You live in an apartment at Avenida Bolivar, 36, here in Caracas."
"Avenida Bolivar, 36."
She went on to tell me that I had no family or friends and that the people I associated with were the few in this building, who were comrades in the revolution.
"You will learn more about yourself later," she finally said. "For the time being, you must rest. I will count backward from five. During the count, you will rise slowly from your trance and float back up into awareness. Five. You are moving back up the escalator. Four. You are completely rested, but you are becoming more aware. Three. When your eyes open on the count of one, you will remember nothing prior to closing your eyes, nothing at all. Two. When your eyes open, you will remember only what I have told you about your identity as Rafael Chávez. You will remember nothing prior to the onset of complete amnesia. One."
I opened my eyes. A girl was sitting there, and I knew I had seen the face before, but I had no idea under what circumstances. It must have been just before I closed my eyes. I noted immediately that she was not Venezuelan, and that lessened my interest in the pretty face. I spoke to her in fluent Spanish.
"Qué pasó?" I asked.
"You have been under a light sedation, señor Chávez. You were in an accident and received a blow on the head, and we are taking care of you for a couple of days. You do recognize your revolutionary comrades-in-arms, don't you?"
I looked around the room. A technician unfastened the bonds that held me to the chair and took something off of my head. "Why… yes," I said. The fact was, I remembered almost nothing.
"This is Dr. Kalinin, and I am Tanya Savitch, your Russian friends in the revolutionary movement. These other fellows are Menéndez and Salgado. They have been with you in the movement for some time. We have brought you here to this private clinic to treat you. After all, the conference is not far off."
"The conference?" I asked.
Tanya smiled. "Do not try to remember it all at once. You must go to your room and rest now."
"Yes," I said numbly. "Rest. I feel very tired."
It was pleasantly quiet in the room they took me to. There was just a cot to lie on, but under the circumstances I couldn't expect a hospital bed. After all, I was a man wanted by the law, wasn't I? Frankly, I couldn't remember very much. I wished I had asked the girl how the accident had happened, because I had no memory of it. One thing was clear — I needed these comrades who were nursing me back to health. I needed them very much. They had no idea how bad my amnesia was. Well, it would clear up in a few hours. A good sleep would fix me up fine. But it bothered me that I couldn't remember the important conference the girl had mentioned. My brain whirled with trying to remember, but finally I went to sleep.
I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Was I hallucinating, or had it just been a strange dream? It must have been a dream. I was in some foreign country, a desert country. I was running down a dark, cobblestone street, and I was chasing a man. I held a long, black gun in my hand, a German make, probably a Luger. I was shooting at the man and trying to kill him. He turned and fired back at me, and I felt a searing pain in my side. The gun in my hand suddenly turned into a short-handled axe. Then I woke up.
It was an odd dream. I had no memory of being in any country except Venezuela and America. And I had never shot at a man in my life. Or had I? None of it made any sense to me.
When morning came, they brought me a tray of food, and I ate ravenously. After I'd finished, I examined my face in a mirror. At least it was familiar. But it did not seem to be a face that went with Rafael Chávez. I took a look at the clothing they brought in for me, but I didn't recognize it. The pockets were empty, and there was no identification. About an hour later Menéndez came and took me back to the room with the wired chair and other equipment.