I saw the doctors again yesterday. They told me to write down anything interesting I remember, and anything weird that happens to me. Give it to them the next time they see me. Said it would help them know how my recovery is going. That's the problem, I can't remember much of anything. They told me I was in the Army for 22 years, until my transport got blown up by an IED. Lucky to be alive, they say. Maybe so, but I hit my head so hard I don't remember a day of it, except in little bits every so often. It's funny, when I remember those little bits, I don't think it was the Army, even though I remember carrying a gun. I don't know what it was though. One day, I was in a comic book store, I like the comics, they're easy to read and the pictures help you figure out what's going on. There was a comic called "Weird Science Fantasy" and I was reading a little bit in the store. All of a sudden, I looked at the thing in the comic and said "SCP-1841! We contained that last year!" I got all excited, and the guy in the shop wanted to know what the hell I was talking about. I tried to explain, but must not have done a good job, because he thought I was a nut for thinking the things in comic books are real. He asked me what an "SCP" is supposed to be, and I didn't know, it just jumped in my head, that's how those bits of memory work. He just thinks I'm weird and stupid but didn't throw me out because I buy lots of comics.
I don't catch things out of the comic book anymore. If I ever did, I'm not really sure. Now I'm a Security Guard at this big warehouse. They got me a job there when I got out of the hospital. Southwestern Cryptobiotic Products! I can spell that because it's on the flyers I give out. If someone comes in and they don't have a key card, I'm supposed to give them one of those, tell them "We're not open to the public yet" and get them to leave. It's a funny place, they don't even give me a key card and I've never been in the back to see what they do. Something to keep food from spoiling for a long time, that's what the flyers say. I don't know why it has to be such a big secret.
I used to carry a gun, now I ride the bus. The bus is full of weird people these days. A person can bring any damn thing on a bus. Some guy got on at 15th street this morning with a thing in an old broken baby carriage. I don't know what it was, it had a big plastic trash bag on it covering it up. It didn't fit right, the thing was poking at it in all kinds of strange angles. He wheeled it right up next to me and I tensed up and thought "Jesus Christ, that thing might be Keter!" Keter? What does Keter even mean? Something you shouldn't be allowed to bring on the bus, I guess. A couple times I thought the thing moved, and I reached for the gun I don't have any more. Last year, I would have known what to do about that thing. Now I don't, and the guy and his thing got off at 36th St. I shouldn't have to know, they should train the bus driver to know what to do when something Keter gets on her bus.
Dr. Meadows scanned the file summary:
Name: Andrew James Stark
History: Field Agent for 22 years (MTFs: [REDACTED]). Remanded for Class Omega amnestic therapy and supervised reassignment
after [REDACTED] and failure to [REDACTED]. Subject is to have field knowledge removed, but remain functional for low-level assignment.
Tested IQ upon hire: 139
Tested IQ post-therapy: 82
Current Assignment: Southwestern Cryptobiotic Products, cover organization for Site-87. Security Clearance 0.
He added a new entry:
5/11/2012: Subject continues to perform under acceptable parameters for Class Omega therapy.
Although he experiences flashback memory of potentially classified information, his general demeanor and inability to articulate thoughts provide reasonable deniability of any sensitive material subject may reveal.