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Because the bastards in gray were trampling me as if I were a mat? No, there was more to the word than that. Mat. The blanket would act like a bath mat if I left it on the floor for the next spray of freezing water. No. What was the significance of mat?
    My heart missed a beat and I leaped to my feet. Mat. It was my name. Matt, with two t s. I slapped the wall for joy and tried to dance a jig. My legs gave way and I dropped onto the blanket. My name was Matt. They hadn’t taken away my identity after all—I had managed to keep something of myself from them.
    I kneeled there with a slack smile on my lips. I was Matt. I was still what I had been before I arrived at this awful place.
    Then I slumped forwards as the realization hit me—I might have known one of my names, but I had no idea of the others. Just as I had no idea of where I was or why I was here. And the next time I was put under the sinister box, I might lose the little that I had managed to salvage.
    Time was running out for Matt, whoever the hell he was.
     
     
    I didn’t know how many more sessions under the machine I endured. Sometimes I could remember that my name was Matt, sometimes not. There were other occasions, the worst ones, when I doubted that I was called Matt at all, and that I was only hallucinating.
    Then everything changed. I was dragged to the treatment room by the silent men in leather aprons. I remembered how asphyxiating it felt when the long box was lowered over me—and then, more quickly than usual, everything turned to black.
    When I came round, I found that I was lying on a comfortable bed, one that seemed to be at the correct angle to the rest of a large room. I was hooked up to numerous machines. I felt as if I were floating, but my mind was sluggish, like it had been chained down. I tried to work out who I was, but failed. I was forced to lie back and look around.
    To my left, beyond a desk equipped with an angled lamp and a computer screen, there was a window. The shackles on my mind immediately loosened at the sight of the trees in the middle distance, a great green carpet of them rising up a slope. This room was obviously above ground level. I tried to get up, but found that my arms and legs were secured. That darkened my mood. I had the feeling that I’d been in captivity before, though nothing specific flashed before me. My memory was sluggish.
    A young woman wearing a white uniform came towards me, a warm smile on her lips. “Good morning,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for a long time.” She took a cell phone from her belt and pressed buttons. She spoke in a low voice and then turned her attention back to me. “How are you feeling?”
    I shrugged. “Like my head’s been filled with cotton wool. What happened?”
    She gave me another smile and started checking the monitors. “The doctor will be here soon.”
    I let the evasive answer go. I could see I wasn’t going to get anything else out of the nurse. A man with a goatee came in. He was wearing a white coat over a gray uniform. I was sure I’d seen both him and his clothing before but, again, I couldn’t come up with any specifics.
    The doctor gave me a tight smile and took my pulse. He then looked at the clipboard on which the nurse had been recording readings from the machines. He gave her a curt nod.
    “You are doing well,” he said, looking at me but avoiding my eyes.
    “Am I?” I said. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me my name.”
    His expression went blank.
    “Or what you’ve been doing to me here?”
    He remained silent.
    “Or even where here is?”
    The two of them moved away. I decided to feign sleep in the hope that would make them drop their guard. That turned out to be a total failure. Not only did they keep their distance, but I fell into a profound slumber.
    For some reason, the image of a bath mat filled my mind before I lost consciousness.
     
     
    I woke up and looked around surreptitiously. The nurse was at her desk, head