A silent scream fills my head and stays there like a congealing wound. I am rigid with pain that sears from my throat and down my upper body. My face is covered preventing me from seeing anything but a dull blackness. Occasionally I smell a cold waft of ozone, and it reminded me of an electric train set I had when I was a boy. The breeze dances over my body and I know that I must be naked. If only I could see.
As if in answer my sight is restored and I gaze up into a masked face bathed in a red glow. “Am I in hospital?”
Abruptly the masked face descends until it hovers inches away. An illusion of peace claws my senses and I am flying through soft woolly clouds. I fight against this drugged state of mind and regain consciousness but the penalty is the return of agony. Once more he is back inside my mind sifting and scattering my thoughts like confetti. I can hear the whirr of a helicopter, the smell of aviation fumes and then Auster's worried face swims into view. Pointing straight at me is a gun. There's a sound like a branch snapping and instantly I double up in pain. In stark contrast, close up, there is a woman’s bloodied face looking concerned at me.
“Stella?” With tremendous effort I snarl: “These are my private emotions, not for sharing. Love, hate, can’t you feel the difference?”
My body convulses as if a lightning bolt had skewered it. Around me are three swan-like necks bearing down upon my throat; red needle-points of light spit from each; they look like lasers. A sound like a faint swarm of bees hypnotise my senses.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
The figure totally ignores me; his entire concentration and hand movement are focused around my throat and upper body. I began to realise that this is no hospital, because I am sitting in a dentist chair. Above my head beyond the face, beyond the smell, and beyond my pain I can see an oval shaped window. Through that, I swim into a whirlpool of stars. Abruptly my friendly clouds return. I have no concept of time but hours must surely have past before I regain consciousness. My attention is drawn towards a focused beam of light that spills from a huge porthole in the ceiling and onto the floor. The room itself is small and circular with a dank musty smell giving it a cavern like impression.It is difficult to see my surroundings with any clarity. What I do see however fills me with dread. Against the far wall are three stainless steel cabinets that look like water fountains. Protruding from each are thin swan-like necks. I glance down and see that I am wearing a single piece of white clothing that looks oriental in design and texture. Close by, I become aware of a strange swishing sound and then a subtle fragrance of cinnamon wafts into my nostrils.
"Are you rested?"
That whispered voice fills my head. I sit bolt upright frantically trying to locate its source and realise that I am lying upon a flat slab that is soft to the touch.
"Where are you?"
“It is of no matter. Tell me, can you remember where you live?” I suddenly feel a sense of loss, of being homesick.
“I live in the City of York.” I murmur.
“Do you know it well?”
“I thought I did. It all depends upon which end of the telescope you are given to look through.”
“You mean your friend David Austerfield?”
“How do you know so much about my private affairs?”
The voice is urgent, almost demanding now. "He has stolen something of ours?"
"I know nothing about it."
"You must find him for us"
"I haven’t seen him for months?"
“You will sleep now and forget everything you have learnt here.”
“I will not! Who are you?”
“Merely a figment of your imagination. For you, I simply do not exist."
"I know you exist."
"Not for long."
"What are you going to?"
"Relax. There is nothing to fear. Now tell me more about your City of York?”
As if in answer my sight is restored and I gaze up into a masked face bathed in a red glow. “Am I in hospital?”
Abruptly the masked face descends until it hovers inches away. An illusion of peace claws my senses and I am flying through soft woolly clouds. I fight against this drugged state of mind and regain consciousness but the penalty is the return of agony. Once more he is back inside my mind sifting and scattering my thoughts like confetti. I can hear the whirr of a helicopter, the smell of aviation fumes and then Auster's worried face swims into view. Pointing straight at me is a gun. There's a sound like a branch snapping and instantly I double up in pain. In stark contrast, close up, there is a woman’s bloodied face looking concerned at me.
“Stella?” With tremendous effort I snarl: “These are my private emotions, not for sharing. Love, hate, can’t you feel the difference?”
My body convulses as if a lightning bolt had skewered it. Around me are three swan-like necks bearing down upon my throat; red needle-points of light spit from each; they look like lasers. A sound like a faint swarm of bees hypnotise my senses.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
The figure totally ignores me; his entire concentration and hand movement are focused around my throat and upper body. I began to realise that this is no hospital, because I am sitting in a dentist chair. Above my head beyond the face, beyond the smell, and beyond my pain I can see an oval shaped window. Through that, I swim into a whirlpool of stars. Abruptly my friendly clouds return. I have no concept of time but hours must surely have past before I regain consciousness. My attention is drawn towards a focused beam of light that spills from a huge porthole in the ceiling and onto the floor. The room itself is small and circular with a dank musty smell giving it a cavern like impression.It is difficult to see my surroundings with any clarity. What I do see however fills me with dread. Against the far wall are three stainless steel cabinets that look like water fountains. Protruding from each are thin swan-like necks. I glance down and see that I am wearing a single piece of white clothing that looks oriental in design and texture. Close by, I become aware of a strange swishing sound and then a subtle fragrance of cinnamon wafts into my nostrils.
"Are you rested?"
That whispered voice fills my head. I sit bolt upright frantically trying to locate its source and realise that I am lying upon a flat slab that is soft to the touch.
"Where are you?"
“It is of no matter. Tell me, can you remember where you live?” I suddenly feel a sense of loss, of being homesick.
“I live in the City of York.” I murmur.
“Do you know it well?”
“I thought I did. It all depends upon which end of the telescope you are given to look through.”
“You mean your friend David Austerfield?”
“How do you know so much about my private affairs?”
The voice is urgent, almost demanding now. "He has stolen something of ours?"
"I know nothing about it."
"You must find him for us"
"I haven’t seen him for months?"
“You will sleep now and forget everything you have learnt here.”
“I will not! Who are you?”
“Merely a figment of your imagination. For you, I simply do not exist."
"I know you exist."
"Not for long."
"What are you going to?"
"Relax. There is nothing to fear. Now tell me more about your City of York?”
