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orange snow-sweeper being driven slowly up and down between the rows of parked cars.
    So, his sister Sue was coming to see him. He supposed that he ought to be pleased, and excited. After all, she was the first member of his family to come see him since he had regained consciousness. The problem was, he didn’t feel anything at all. He simply felt adrift, like the sole survivor of a yacht sinking in mid-ocean, without a single landmark in sight. Doctor Connor had shown him a picture of Sue printed from her Facebook page, a tall blonde in a blue-and-white dress, squinting at the sun, but he hadn’t recognized her, and neither could he remember growing up with her, or anything that they had done together when they were children. The name ‘Sue’ meant nothing.
    Still – it was possible that Doctor Connor was right, and that when he saw her in the flesh, and heard her talk, he would remember her.
    He was still standing there, looking out of the window, when he heard somebody coming into the room behind him, without knocking.
    He turned around and saw that it was a tall, gray-haired man in a silvery-gray suit. He had a long, narrow face, with that slightly yellowish look of a faded suntan. His eyes were hooded and he had a thin, curved nose, which gave him the appearance of an elderly bird of prey.
    He gave Michael a lipless smile and held out his hand.
    â€˜Mr Merrick! Gregory! It’s very good to see you up and about! My name is Kingsley Vane. I’m the medical director of Trinity-Shasta Clinic.’
    Michael hesitated for a moment and then shook Kingsley Vane’s hand. It was a strange handshake, dry and elusive, as if a snake were slithering out of his grasp.
    â€˜I’ve been watching your progress closely, ever since you were brought in here,’ said Kingsley Vane. ‘Do sit down; I know that you’ve been suffering some pain in your knees.’
    Michael returned to his armchair. Kingsley Vane leaned back against the side of his bed, with his arms folded.
    â€˜How are you feeling in yourself, Mr Merrick? You don’t mind if I call you Gregory, do you?’
    â€˜Confused, mainly,’ Michael admitted. ‘Confused and kind of depressed. I want to get out of here and get on with my life but since I can’t remember anything about my life, not a single goddamned thing, I don’t see how I can get on with it.’
    â€˜I do understand,’ said Kingsley Vane, nodding. ‘I remember that one of our amnesia patients described his condition as being like losing his place in a book he was reading, only he had lost the book, too.’
    â€˜Yes. That sums it up pretty well. Except that I can’t even remember the
title
of the book, so that I can order another copy.’
    Kingsley Vane said, ‘Believe me, Gregory, we’re doing everything we can to restore your memory, and our expertise in post-traumatic care is second to none. As you’ll discover when you leave the clinic and take up residence with Mrs Weston, several Trinity residents are former or ongoing patients of ours. That’s part of the reason they live here, to have continuing access to our aftercare facilities.’
    He gave Michael another thin smile. ‘From our point of view, Gregory, we
care
about our patients, not just while they’re here in the clinic proper, but long after they’ve been discharged. Post-traumatic care never really ends, ever.’
    â€˜I guess it ends when you die.’
    Kingsley Vane said nothing to that, but continued to smile at him. After a while, he unfolded his arms, stood up straight and said, ‘Anyhow, I very much hope that you’ll be comfortable with Mrs Weston. If you’re not, for any reason at all, please let Doctor Connor know immediately, won’t you? We need you to be stable, and positive. Your amnesia therapy will be much more effective if you are.’
    â€˜OK, thank you,’ said Michael.
    Kingsley Vane