1.i.
Mr. Spittle
was so long and dangly that Mr. Smith didn’t notice the tall, dark woman enter
the room. Normally, he wouldn’t notice
someone catching fire but he seemed oddly perceptive today.
“So. Mr. Smith, is it?”
The voice
startled Mr. Smith and his sudden jerking motion sent Mr. Spittle flying.
“Oh. Bye, bye,” Mr. Smith said, forgetting about
the woman.
Ms. Adams
looked perplexed. After a moment she
said, “What would you say if I told you that ‘Mr. Smith’ wasn’t your real
name?”
There was no
response.
“What would
you say if I told you that we already know one another?”
Nothing.
“What if I
could help you escape?” What if I could
restore your memory? And what… What is that awful smell? It’s like a hamster cage… and fried eggs.”
“Oh. Oh no.
Mr. Poopy,” said Mr. Smith.
“No. You can’t be serious,” said Ms. Adams.
“Hate Mr.
Poopy.”
“You’re worse
off than I thought. We need to get you
out of here.” She stifled a gag. “Oh god, we need to change your pants.”
Ms. Adams
explained that they had less than thirty minutes to make their escape as she
wheeled Mr. Smith into the bathroom and pried off his sticky pants. She hosed him down with the shower’s
detachable head, patted him dry, and then asked him to dress.
Mr. Smith had
never been asked to do this and failed in the endeavor. Ms. Adams then assisted him.
“Look,” she
said, grabbing his shoulders, “I need you to come back to me. I need you to remember. Your name is not Smith. It’s Jones.
Don Jones.”
There was a
flicker in his mind.
“And my name
is Tanya Jefferson,” said the woman previously known as Ms. Adams. “The world calls me Business Woman. You are also know by another title.”
It was as if a
damp cloth was swiped across the dusty surface of his mind. Sharp wood grains and a gleaming brown veneer
appeared where once resided a gray, powdery haze.
“I’m… I’m
Corporate Man,” he said.
Business
Woman smiled. “Yes you are. Now come with me. There is much to be done. The economy needs you.”
