My memory begins as I was still half way submerged in the grimy water of a New York City harbor. My hands were tightly gripped on a weathered rotting ladder and as I pulled myself up, my feet found the bottom rungs.
Once I completed my ascent, I caught my breath on the warming asphalt. Only a few meters away was a busy urban street that led into Manhattan.
It was interesting that I knew this, given that I could not remember what I had been doing in the water. To make matters worse, I was wearing only a speedo. Fortunately, I had also been wearing a diving mask, which I promptly removed.
Some bystanders took notice of me as I began walking towards the nearby street. Not far from my accession point, I rather clumsily stumbled across my car. (I say clumsily, because I had no knowledge that it would be waiting for me.)
Before I climbed in, I took a look across the bay, trying hard to imagine what led to this situation and what could possibly be normal about it.
Despite my inability to remember any details about who I was and how I had arrived here, I was easily able to navigate my car through seemingly unfamiliar streets to police headquarters.
After I parked, which I have no memory of - so it is just as likely I abandon the vehicle anywhere convenient, I entered the building still quite wet and still wearing only speedos. The flippers on my feet made strange penguin-esqe sounds as they lapped against the marble floor. I had discarded the accompanying diving mask on the passenger seat of the car, having no logical reason to take it with me inside my place of work.
That’s right, I am a detective with the NYPD. I can’t tell you how I know this, but the casual nods I receive from people and the fact that no one has attempted to stop me, confirm this.
I overhear a confrontation of some kind but feel that – in my current state, it is best not to get involved, so I proceed to the nearby elevator. As the door opens, I am certain which floor is my destination.
“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story.” Homer,