I opened the front door and went out, closing it gently behind me. I was on a porch of red enameled concrete. There were three steps down to the walk. I had never seen them before.
It was evening. Somewhere down the block a woman was calling someone named Johnny. Across the street a man was going up the walk to the house from his car. Next door a skinny man with a large Adam's apple was mowing the lawn. He saw me and waved at me. A nervous smile flitted over his lips.
"Hi, Orville," he called.
But my name wasn't Orville, and I had never seen these houses, these people. I had never before been in this neighborhood.
Or had I? Was it possible to have amnesia while in familiar surroundings?
I considered the possibility, then rejected it. I was positive I had never been here before. I was certain my name wasn't Orville.
I knew who I was, and I knew my name was Fred Martin. Why, ten minutes ago I had been....
The man across the street had just opened the door to enter the house, but now neither he nor the house were there. In their place was Thordsen's bench. Around me were the dim outlines of the lab.
I tried to remember what I had been doing. I turned to my bench and groped for the light switch.