The Memory Garden

Chapter 1 by William S The room was wrong in so many ways his eyes couldn't focus. It was damn near impossible to place what exactly it was about the place that was eschew. There seemed to be a corner missing or maybe there was one too many. It was taxing for him to tell, and concentrating on it was giving him a migraine. The only sane object in the room was the comfy chair placed square in the middle of a raised platform. It looked so inviting, and he was so very, very tired, but there was no way in hell he was going to sit down in it with out permission. Heavy curtains of pastel colour filled water obscured one wall. Soft moans came from the other side. Blobs of shimmering thought drifted through the floor to pop against the ceiling in a flowing shower of chaotic consciousness. A heavy looking pear shaped door throbbed to the beat of an unknown heart and melted open at the far end of the topsy-turvy room. With the quick, sharp strides of a man possessed by the fire of inner demons Mr. White, followed closely by his assistant the redoubtable Marge strode confidently into the room. "Good day Lemon it was nice of you to come see me on such short notice." White sat down with a Budda-like smile. His voice was a heavy caress from a scorned lover returned to your side "I'd offer you a chair but there are none for you. So sorry." The smile never wavered. Marge lit herself a blue tipped cigarette with a pink disposable lighter. She rolled her eyes heavenward in pleasure of breathing cancer, of inhaling death. Somewhere beyond the confines of the room a man screamed in agony or ecstasy it was had to tell, for the walls had covered themselves in green deep pile shag carpet. "I'll be brief in my instructions to you because my decor seems to be causing you some distress.""Thank you sire, that is most kind."
"Yes well we are suppose to all be on the same side."
"Ah…Yes, that is true."
"Please never utter that vile word in my presence again."
"Which word is that sire?"
"True. Such a despicable word, I shall not abide its existence in my presence. Thank-you very much.""Yes sire. Please forgive my foolishness for having said such a vile thing.""Oh for the love of the existential man. You need not call me sire. Sir will do. We are going to be working closer together, you and I. Besides it does not become an agent of Her Titanic Mysteries Special Service to be so demurred. Correct?""Correct.""Good then. Now straighten you back and wipe your nose you seemed to have developed a bloody drip.""Of course Sir.""Ah that is better. Well to business I should think. Before you are sick on my lovely hard wood floor. You've turned a lovely shade of green by the way.""Yes, to business.""You have been tasked with finding the Architect's lostMemory
Garden."

"Sire? I'm mean Sir? You must be joking. The Garden has been lost for ages. Where would I begin?""That doesn't matter to me. I only wish it found. I hope you will not disappoint me. You do know what happens to those who disappoint me?""No, of course not. I mean yes of course. No wait what I mean to say is yes I know what happens and no I will not disappoint, but I just wonder why the Garden is being looked for now. Its presence has not been needed for awhile.""Well that is correct, and you should know why its being looked for, but I have no inkling why. A situation I find most distressing. I have worked my magic, walked my ways and scryed as far a field as I may over the last sixteen years and you'd think she'd trust me with a secret or two by now. But no. I suspect that the war is not going well for us, and the Mystery is worried""What? That can't be. The newsreels are full of glorious stories telling of victory over victory. They must be true…""There's that word again.""Sorry. I meant to say correct. The Ministry of Information would not lie to the people.""Well of course it would. It wouldn't be the Ministry of Information if it didn't. I mean really. Have you been living in a box somewhere?""No, just a prison cell.""Ah yes. I forgot.""How long will I have to find the Garden?""Not long.""How… long is that… more exactly?""Perhaps a year?""Ah well then it's not as important as I thought.""Then you thought wrong.""Ah… I see.'"No you don't. Continue.""Will I be granted resources to search for it.""Besides you own capable wits there is a care package waiting for you with Dispatch over at the Ministry of Belongings."“Splendid. Will I be granted any personal?""Why yes, you can select from a list of them supplied by the Ministry of People tomorrow. Your appointment is for 3:04 am. Anything else.""Is there a file on theMemory
Garden?""Marge." With a flick of her wrist a bottle of black Indian ink sailed through the air to bounce of Lemon's left thigh. "Anything else?""No I think that will be all.""Ah well good. See you on the flip side." With that White's world folded in two, horizontally and winked out. Leaving Matthew Lemon standing naked and alone within a bloody circle of communication. The power of his magic fading in a sunset sort of way. Reality claimed him whole.