He picked up the cannibalized soldering iron and the broken element and took them out to his father’s garage, where he dumped them on the junk table. On the way to the garage, he passed his father, but neither acknowledged the presence of the other. This was as Marty wanted it.

          Back in his room, he sat and read for a while, then went down to tea when called. His salad was delicious. Then, as he chewed one of the tomatoes from the greenhouse, his mother looked at his father and asked – quietly – what had happened to the greenhouse.

          Marty’s father indicated Marty.

          “Clumsy over there fell into one of the panes. Him and the greenhouse lived to tell the tale though.”

          Marty stopped chewing. Suddenly the tomato didn’t taste like tomato any more. It tasted of flesh – raw, bloody flesh. Staring at his father, daring him to say one word, Marty spat the tomato pulp out onto his plate. There was silence at the table. Expectations of imminent violence hung palpably in the air.

          Marty’s father carried on eating his meal as though nothing unusual had happened. As though nothing had happened at all.

          Marty got up from the table and walked out of the room. In his bedroom, he put some music on his tape recorder and lay on his bed, listening to the slow beat of Barclay James Harvest’s Negative Earth.

          He drifted off to sleep within minutes.

*

When Ambler awoke, his lethargy was gone. He felt vibrant and alive. He opened his eyes and knew where he was immediately. He also knew what he’d undergone. He sat up and saw Doctor Xavier watching him.

          “You do know you were using one particular subconscious memory to suppress another, don’t you?” the doctor asked without preamble.

          Ambler nodded.

          “I was actually using it to suppress many,” he admitted.

          “How many of them do you know?

          “Not many of them – most of them are like that one – just bits of static imagery, nothing more.”

          “Then how do you know they need suppressing?”

          “Because they’re suppressed. I don’t do it consciously.”

          “You need to examine them. You have time to take a look at one more today and still have counseling. Or we can concentrate on the one experienced today. You choose.”

          Ambler considered. Two memories in one day. How would that make him feel? Would it be too much? He decided to ask.

          “Can I handle two, doctor?”

          “You have already handled them,” Doctor Xavier answered. “The question now is, do you want to see in full the memory beneath the memory?”

          “Yes,” Ambler answered without hesitation.

          “In that case, Mister Ambler, is there one particular subconscious memory you wish to have made conscious?”

*

Is There One Particular Subconscious Memory You Wish To Have Made Conscious?

© R J Dent (2009)

www.rjdent.com