“But—but that won’t help me get back to where I want to go. It’ll only make the sequences go by faster!”

“True. However, some believe your strange type of locked, sequential recall will break down as more recent memories are accessed. You’ll have revisited your entire life, so to speak, and no long-term memory will have greater excitation potential than any other.”

“I’ll have free access again after that?”

“That’s my best guess, Derek.”

Derek chewed on one end of his moustache. “I’ll have to go through some pretty rotten times,” he muttered.

“Quickly, yes.” Bettide nodded.

“I don’t know.” Derek knitted his brow.

Bettide closed the file folder. “Well, our time is up. If you can’t decide now, we’ll just make an appointment for next week.”

Derek looked up quickly. “I’ll do it! Please. Can we start now?”

Bettide shrugged. He opened the cardboard box and put about a dozen small bottles into a paper bag.

“Sign here.” He indicated a release form.

Derek scribbled his signature and took the bottles. They clinked as he rose to go. “Thanks, Doc. I know you’re trying to help. Maybe if I can just get some peace for a while—get back to Sycamore Street for a rest—I’ll be able to think about things…”

Bettide nodded reservedly. But, as Derek opened the door to leave, the doctor said, “I saw Realm of Magic on the Late Show last week, Derek. I enjoyed it a great deal. You were very good in that film, even if you were better on the stage.”

Derek half turned, but couldn’t make himself meet the physician’s eyes. He nodded, clutching the bag, and left quickly without shutting the door behind him.

4

The amber-white fluid enticed, and he sought salvation in the past…