I’ve got some new ideas for this story that will slightly change how it has gone somewhat up to this point, but I’m going to keep writing it to get the plot out. If the continuity is disrupted somewhat, I apologize–the final version should be superior.
The Committee had departed, shuffling along their separate ways, but the Questioning Man had fallen back. Herbert had never left the psychiatrist’s waiting room, and a question was bothering the Man.
As he looked at Herbert’s back, he examined the CEO’s new jacket: tweed with leather patches at the elbows. The Questioning Man had never seen Herbert dress in such a manner until he lost his memory, but now the expensive suits were replaced with comfortable slacks, jackets that were not a far cry from what young hipsters wore somewhat ironically, and occasionally a complete and utter lack of shoes.
Herbert was examining a small jade statue of a rearing elephant when the Questioning Man touched him lightly on the shoulder. Turning, Herbert smiled. This was hardly notable since Herbert was always smiling these days, but the Questioning Man noted it nonetheless. It made him feel… warm.
“Excuse me, sir…” he cleared his throat nervously. “I was wondering if I might take you somewhere.”
“That would be wonderful,” Herbert replied. He blinked at the Questioning Man for a few moments and then asked, “I’m sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name. What was it, again?”
“Questin,” the Man replied. As he led Herbert from the waiting room, he thought uncomfortably about Herbert’s relationship with the Committee. Even before he lost his memory, Herbert hadn’t known anyone’s name.