Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favourite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember. Still going strong with the placeholder image for now but should change soon.

Episode 6 – February 2016

Finally, good things are happening.

Steve has really warmed to me since the whole meltdown/church/coffee kerfuffle. He seems to be in a better mood, is more positive around me and started helping me get adjusted to my new life. He helped me get some maps from bookstore, got me my second  new laptop (don’t ask), synced it to my smartphone and installed some proper software, plus he introduced me to the sweet concept of instant coffee. It’s still a vile beverage when consumed without sugar, but at least it takes the labour out of making it. Oh, funny thing. When he’s really relaxed, he starts calling me Anthony instead of Archi. I haven’t brought it up with him yet. I like the name, but it’s not really me.

I’ve also been thinking about about the future, about what my life should be like. I suppose I could focus on who I was and where I came from, but does that really matter if I don’t remember? I look in the mirror every day and see an unfamiliar face, an unknown person that’s supposed to be me… but I don’t know anything about this person. I don’t know if he loved coffee, if he was mean to the cleaning lady, if he was a Trekkie, or a superstar in the kitchen. I know nothing about him, except that he’s not in here. Not the slightest trace. If I am the sum total of my experiences, and my experiences stretch back for about 10 weeks (give or take the stay in a hospital bed), what does it matter what came before? I got, perhaps reluctantly, perhaps not, what many people only dream of; a fresh start, a clean slate, tabula rasa. And that is who I am now. This is who’s going to go forward.

Well… Not really a total tabula rasa, since I can write and walk and talk and all that, which is still freaking me out. And I can juggle. With 3 apples and a knife at the same time. Found that out today. Didn’t know how to stop though.

I think what I need now, are experiences and goals. I lack the former to be able to make quality decisions on the latter. I need to build a foundation to make decisions from. Most places I’ve read claim that travelling nurtures the mind, body and soul, so that’s what I intend to do. And Steve is helping me decide where. We went over some ideas for destinations, like touring the capitals of Europe, going to Qatar to see a safer part of the Middle East, hike the Serengeti and visit ancient ruins in Mexico, plus he gave me advice on how to avoid getting hustled, mugged and/or killed by less savoury individuals in most of those places. He was quite, um… colourful, when it came to self defence. We even put up a map on the wall and riddled it with pins and notes. We also talked about Willy for a bit, when I felt comfortable enough to reveal that I’d snuck out. He seemed unsurprised. Go figure.

Besides that, the rest of my week has been exclusively about computers. Like I mentioned, Steve helped me with the initial setup, but I’ve done some studying myself. I’ve gone through:

• a comprehensive history of computing
• taking apart and rebuilding a fried laptop (not that it works)
• completing basic, advanced and superuser courses
• written scripts just for fun
• learning a bit of coding (C++ and Perl with a dash of Lisp and a sprinkle of Python)
• reading up on the fundamentals of hacking and cracking, which appears to be more about mindset and social engineering.

And I bought myself some screen glasses with blue filters to stop myself from getting massive headaches from staring at the screen for dozens of hours. I need a resting/sleeping schedule or I might exhaust myself again, which is probably what happened last week. All work and no sleep makes Archi a dull, head-thumping-against-the-floor boy.

Still haven’t told Steve about the memory stick, the cracking of which has been a source of much frustration and procrastination, but I’m OK with not telling him. Everyone needs their little secrets and I only have this one. The second new laptop is nice, the first one I got on Monday also got fried by the memory stick when I failed to authenticate the password. Must be some kind of zero day exploit that has gone undetected or intentionally unaddressed. Pretty substantial one at that. Or the memory stick is intentionally designed to fry electronics. If I don’t get anywhere by next week, I might need to open it up. This is quite vexatious yet oddly thrilling, like I’m the central protagonist in some elaborate mystery story dodging detection while desperately searching for clues to my past all the while an unknown shadowy adversary watches from afar. Silly, but exciting!

Going to finish up now. Inger is coming by tonight for dinner with me and Steve. It was Steve’s suggestion since we’re stopping with the daily blood tests and it might be nice to do a wrap up with her. Not sure about the ‘nice’ aspect. I don’t like the woman and I feel that her ‘origin story’ about me is utter bovine fecal matter, but as long as she doesn’t fling it at the oscillating unit I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t know. Need to figure this out.

Still. I think I’m OK. I feel OK.

End of episode 6. Share, like and follow for weekly updates. Thank you for reading.

Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favorite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember. And hopefully the last week with the placeholder image. New cool art commissioned. Exciting stuff!

Episode 5 – February 2016

This week marked a change in my relationship with Steve. A little at least. It all started when we were out picking up more project materials and I had a bit of a meltdown or rather I screamed at him to leave me alone. I felt exasperated with everything. When I had calmed down sufficiently, I told him I was scared and confused and felt that nobody trusted me, and that I wanted to leave, so he… sat me down, bought me coffee and listened. It was almost like he knew me personally and cared about how I felt. We spoke for some three hours straight, and I wrote down some of the things he told me.

“I am here to keep you safe and make sure you can function. Finding you unconscious proved that you are not ready for all this. We need you to recover fully”

and….

“Of course you don’t trust us. It’s sensible not to trust people you don’t know and you don’t know anyone. Not everyone in the world is there to help you, nor intends to help you. Most people are decent enough, but every once in awhile you get a rotten egg. Whether they were cracked from the start, or dropped and broken along the way, doesn’t matter, it only takes one egg to foul life’s cake.”

and…

“Everyone has to do things they don’t like, all the time. Life really is about doing the bad things so the good things can come into the light. Complaining about it doesn’t help. Just crack on and be done with it, so you don’t have to repeat it later.”

I’m not entirely sure about the cake bit and what cracking on means, but I think I got the gist of it. And then we went to church to seek ‘higher counsel’, as he put it. Which was code for speaking with the vicar and ingesting an obscene amount of pastry and coffee. More damn coffee. I read somewhere that this is tea country, that they broke and warred with half the known world for the damn stuff for hundreds of years, and they keep giving me coffee?! Must make them a sort of heathens. Anyway, he was nice and all, but the whole conversation boiled down to:

“The people here care about you and want the best for you. Steve is one of our most devout patrons. Donates to church and helps us. Trust in God and Steve, to help and guide you on your journey.”

I’m a little bit at odds with Steve’s pragmatism. We went home (or whatever you call it) and it’s been better between us. Not really friends, more of an acceptable companion, like a friendly colleague or a talking dog. (I watched UP this morning.)  

The only other thing on note this week, which I didn’t share with Steve, is the contents of the memory stick. Went to Willy and asked to if I could borrow his computer, but he doesn’t have one, so we went to the library. At night, since Steve would have followed me during the day. He told me most libraries have computers for public use, which they charge a symbolic fee for, but I could use one for free. So I plugged in the little thing on some boxy thing with a CRT monitor attached, and got prompted with a password window. No amount of guessing worked. And quite disconcertingly so, the computer did a hard shut down after the tenth attempt, resulting in a bit of black smoke smelling of burnt plastic. What kind of security is this? This is spy movie weird. Like something a Bourne or Bond would be playing with. Willy wasn’t too happy, but there was nothing we could do about it. So we’re going to see the new moon tonight with his wife instead. And I will have to find some other way of accessing this thing.

At least things are better. Going to order a laptop tomorrow. See if I can teach myself to hack this thing. Carefully.

Bit more OK now. Suspicious, but OK.

End of episode 5. Share, like and follow for weekly updates. Thank you for reading. 

Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favorite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember.

Episode 4 – February 2016

I am not OK. I’m back at the apartment and everything feels wrong. It’s been a week since my last entry, and I feel like I’ve lost my grip on everything. Over the weekend I was told that I “fell asleep” and woke up back at the institute three days later. Three days later. The last thing I remember is coming back from moon gazing with Willy Sunday night and then nothing. No horrible dreams of the void, no impression, nothing. Just blackness, and a bump on the back of my head. Did I hurt myself? Was I attacked? Steve claimed he found me on the floor and rushed me to the institute, but if he was really that concerned, he should have taken me to directly to a hospital, or a maybe vet’s office. Ok, fine. I suppose it worked out well but it’s worrisome.

At least Inger told me a story when I woke up, because that’s what it was, an absurd story, a fucking fairy tale! Supposedly, and I do mean supposedly, I woke up back in November at the institute after they had freed me from a block of ice. A block of ice… Ice? Seriously?!  I was apparently part of an expedition in Greenland when a freak temperature change melted part of a glacier and washed me away. A local hunter found me frozen solid (I’m guessing she meant to say extreme hypothermia, but she said block-o-icicle) as the only survivor. They subsequently decided to transport me to the institute to get me out. Again, she said ice-o-blockified.

This is just what they told me. I have no recollection of any of it. Does this sound even remotely likely?! I’m not entirely sure, but can you freeze and thaw a human without injury? Memory loss is one thing, I researched the problems regarding cryogenics, seems applicable enough, and came to the conclusion that if I was frozen solid I should be mush by now. Water expands when crystallizing into ice, destroys the cellular wall, when defrosted I would slowly fall apart. Nobody can survive that, irrespective of what Disney thought. And if it supposedly is hypothermia + memory loss, then why the secrecy? I mean, an apartment in a small village with a chaperone and no attempt to rationalize my situation until weeks later. No, Koldberg is hiding something. Even the nurse is a bit flustered to see me lately.

Now, the Koldberg Institute itself is a bit of a mystery. According to their website it’s a ‘think tank that works with advanced applications of emerging technologies’, specifically related to superconductors and quantum computing. Which raises a somewhat pertinent question. Why does a think tank working on computing have a fully functional medical bay staffed with a nurse? Not a permanent purpose-built medical bay; but rather a room that looks like somebody commandeered the break room. It even had a fridge with magnets and a coffeemaker next to my bed. Coffee can solve a lot of problems (Willy’s claim, not mine) but head trauma is probably not one of them.

I don’t know what to do now. I still have the memory stick I found last week, it must be the key to solving something. First of all, where did it come from? Who even knows I’m here? I suppose everyone at the institute could have been briefed about it, meaning dozens of people would know the address. But why? I have so many questions but don’t know if anyone is telling me the truth. There is a truth out there… there has to be. It’s only a matter of finding it.

And again, this writing thing is not helping. How can I even write anything? Why do I have this skill if I can’t remember how I got it? Not even glimpses of crying at a school desk comes to mind. It’s all empty. But I can write. I feel scared.

I’m not OK.

End of episode 4. Share, like and follow for weekly updates. Thank you for reading.

Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favorite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember.

Episode 3 – January 2016

I‘ve had horrible dreams since my first journal entry and I’m not sure what to make of them. I keep experiencing a persistent darkness or void or lack of anything. It’s like everything ceases to exist inside me and I have nothing to grab on to. I don’t know if it’s related to the medication, which I stopped taking completely, but my mind seems clear and crisp despite the dreams. I can read an average novel in a mere 2-3 hours, my podcasts and audiobooks (which are the coolest things) run at 5 times their normal speed, and I can even follow TV shows in the background. Except I had to turn the TV off to keep the commercial breaks from distracting me, and to avoid disturbing Steve at night. Apparently I kept him up one night too many and he chewed me out during breakfast. Verbally, of course; I wouldn’t fit in his maw.

We’ve been to the institute every morning for therapy sessions (which I suppose have been useful), more blood tests and next week I’ll be doing cat scans. Why I would need to scan a cat is unclear to me. I mean, what does a cat have to do with a medical scan. Anyway, I did get to talk more about the future, how I’m coping with other people, what I think of my progress, which is nice. Except they didn’t tell me my backstory this time either. The briefing was postponed despite their promises, because apparently I’m still too fragile. According to my lead caretaker, who finally told me her name, Inger Koldberg, it was unclear if I could handle that kind of shock. I requested that she should tell me the truth. She subsequently stood up and yelled that I couldn’t handle the truth, looked slightly embarrassed, and sat back down mumbling something to herself. I’m not sure what to make of this.

I met Willy again last night. After the initial embarrassment he told me that he is a practicing druid and that he’s observing the lunar phases as a sign of respect to nature. He invited me back for soup and moonlight. Sounds nice. I think I’m going to try to make more friends around here. Would be nice to visit others people (friends?) more often. I feel kinda lonely back at the studio.

Oh, and despite Steve’s less than social demeanor, we’ve been out a lot this week. Besides the institute, we went to the library and the church several times, we found a hardware store where he picked up rolls of plastic sheeting and box cutters for a project he’s doing (though he didn’t tell me what) AND he gave me a smartphone, this really cool sleek black thing… Actually the institute gave me the smartphone, but I like to think of it as a present from Steve since it came from him. The instructions were to keep it with me at all times and use the apps to record any thoughts or questions that might come up. The phone even has Steve’s (not that I need it) and Inger’s contact information so I can reach out whenever I feel like it. And a map app. I used it to see where we are exactly. Sure, they told me we’re in a country called England, but at least now I have some sense of what that means.

Got to finish this up now. Willy told me that there would be a waning gibbous moon tonight and that he would bring homemade pea soup, so I’m going to sneak out after Steve’s gone to bed. Not sure what a waning gibbous moon means, but some things have to be experienced first hand rather than read about beforehand.

Quick note: I just researched this CAT scan on the internet and it’s short for computerised tomography, which I will now have to read up on. I feel a little stupid thinking it was about a cat, but none of the lab techs corrected me.

Quick note 2: I found a small memory stick with the Koldberg Institute logo on when I came back from moon watching (had to look up what a memory stick is). Somebody must have slid it under the door during the night. I don’t think it’s Steve’s doing, so I’ve decided to keep it to myself for now. I will try to open it on the landlord’s computer tomorrow.

And a waning gibbous moon just means Earth’s shadow has started moving across its surface. Still very awesome.

And I think I’m ok. Or I’m going to be.

End of episode 3. Share, like and follow for weekly updates. Thank you for reading.

Welcome to the next episode of Archi’s Diary, a weekly entry in my favorite amnesiac’s journal as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember.

Episode 2 – January 2016

I guess I won’t be seeing anything bigger than a ‘village’ for now. My caretakers feel that my re-introduction into society should be gradual and that I should not overindulge due to my frail physical and mental state. So I’ve been confined to my room, limited to visits to the institute and occasional walks through the village with Steve. Steve works for the institute. He’s been with me since I arrived. He is my custodian and lives in the room across the hallway. As it turns out Steve needs to sleep at night which apparently I don’t. Not right now at least. Haven’t slept much since I stopped with the pills. So I sneak out when I can, just to see around a bit. I’ve enjoyed a sky full of stars and a bright crescent moon (had to look up the moon phases to know that) and stayed a while to see if I could meet people except not many are out at 4 am. I still like the night. It’s cool and quiet and crisp and it’s nice to be solitary. Lets you think more clearly. I did meet an old man once I’ll refer to as Willy in the future, since that’s what he was flaunting.  

I’ve also been listening to music day and night, and the stuff can be amazing. I found this Spotify thing on the internet and it just keeps going and going with new stuff. I find it emotional sometimes. I laugh, I cry, my heart races up and down, but the quality varies. I do not understand how this Justin Bieber is considered good. I found a Mozart which was excellent, and an Edith Piaf that felt painful, this Bieber just repeats himself. Says baby a lot.

Besides going to the institute daily for blood tests and cognitive evaluations, I’ve been going on day trips with Steve. He doesn’t seem very happy with me, like I’ve done something personal against him. Maybe there is some drama I’m responsible for. Like maybe my former me slept with his sister, which should not be of his concern. I tried asking him, but he’s very private about everything…. Anyway, he arranged for me to visit some places people usually go to.

We went to the local library early in the week. It’s a small building just next door and it was practically empty. I mean, it’s full of books, like thousands of them… a wondrous place. Granted, my experience is rather limited but the potential seems endless. I mean you can learn all sorts of stuff from books. I got a library card with Steve’s help and walked out with a few recommended books. And one on Ninjutsu. Figured I had to start somewhere.

We  also went to the local church on Sunday and it was also almost empty, not to mention that the vicar was of little use. He told me that, in short, an immortal god manifested itself on earth to be sacrificed for our sins (sins that the god had created for us for stuff it had deemed as wrong), then returned to life, which does not seem like much of a sacrifice. He told me that we should pray to this god because it’s good for us, but he did not provide any reason that wasn’t fear. Seems fishy to me. While there, Steve went to a booth of some kind to talk with the vicar. Later I sneaked a peek inside and there it was just a small room with a grate. Why couldn’t they just talk to each other like I did earlier?

Anyway, then I got try coffee at a local coffee shop today. Man, that stuff is really bitter. I’ve read online that it’s one of the most consumed beverages in the world. But why? With milk and honey it’s tolerable, but still a bit boring. Must be an acquired taste. Steve seemed to like his without anything extra. I like mine with milk and honey.

Good news; next week I should be briefed on how I lost my memory. When they did my blood tests they didn’t think I was ready yet. I feel like I am ready to know, but apparently there are some concerns. Not that they told me what those were, just said ‘not ready’. I really want to know, need to know. I mean, I can’t help running scenarios in my head of what happened to me, or what my life is or was before, or why I can write this clearly. Why can I write this clearly? I need to know. Why is Steve so annoyed with me? Did I do something bad to him? (I hope not, he’s pretty big.) And do I have a family that misses me? That wasn’t all good news, was it?

Bad news is, when I go to sleep, I dream of emptiness. It’s not that I don’t dream, I do dream. The dreams are just of emptiness, like something is supposed to be there, but isn’t. Not sure what that means. The landlord apparently dreams of picking tiny horses on a field like flowers. I don’t know what that means either, but I would like to dream that. Seems absurd, but nicer than emptiness.

I hope I’m ok. I really do.

I’ll write more next week.

Good night.

And that’s it for episode 2. 

Thank you for reading. If you like  work you should share, like and follow for my blog for weekly updates. It’s what Willy would do.

As part of increasing my writing output, I’ve decided to experiment a bit in a format that is new-ish to me. I’ve kept a personal journal at times, which I updated rather infrequently, but felt that the format could be fun to play with creatively. So I started outlining various ideas in journal/diary form that slowly morphed into the idea of Archi’s Diary, which will be a weekly update from my favorite amnesiac’s journal, as he tries to adjust to a world he doesn’t remember. I’m still working on stylistic elements but for now here is the opening episode of Archi’s Diary.

Episode 1 – January 2016

Hello world. I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to write this, so I’ll just address it to a third party that’s me. Is that okay? Yes, it is. I can make that decision. Oddly it feels like exposition for myself. I looked up writing and rhetorical devices just to check. Also, it feels like talking to myself. Is that weird? I’m sure it is…

I’m Archi, or Archimedes according to my birth certificate, but the technicians here call me Archi which sounds nicer. This is my last week at the Koldberg Institute, and it’s been terrifying and amazing and complicated. I should probably say that I suffer from some kind of amnesia, so everything feels new and weird. My contact at the institute suggested that I keep a journal to put my thoughts straight, and compile any questions I might have for my caretakers, which I can say is a lot. Like hundreds of questions every day.

As I write this, my memories feel limited to the past six weeks of training and anything prior to that is shrouded in darkness, as if my head was pumped full of cotton candy and whacked with a bat a few times. The medicine they gave me is supposed to help with that. One good thing, and don’t know if this has to do with the amnesia, is that I seem to be very good at learning and recalling what I’ve learned. It’s all been one long learning process with language, social skills, why I use a toothbrush, telling time and so on being jammed into my head.

Today I was placed in this small apartment that I’m sitting in now. They tell me I’m in a ‘village’. Must mean it’s smaller compared to the other descriptors like ‘city’ or ‘metropolis’. I have to look that up on that internet the owners gave me access to.

I feel lucky to be taken such good care of… This is my life:

• Small studio apartment plus a small stipend from the institute.
• A satchel with clothes and the tablet I am writing this on.
• Nice neighbors that give me coffee for free.
• My blank slate ready to fill in.

My agenda for the next week looks pretty promising. They told me that revealing what little they know about my past could result in a *shock* and a *catastrophic failure in aligning current self with actual self*. Whatever that means.

A note on food:

I have no frame of reference when it comes to food except what they served at the cafeteria at the institute, which wasn’t really the best culinary experience according to the guards. Tried chocolate once, it was amazing. I hope to find more now that I’m out. Also decided to try a bunch of different foodstuffs starting with cinnamon cereal this morning. It was heavenly.

Questions to look up:

• Who am I? Do I have a family?
• How many people are there in this village or even the world?
• What is this church thing?
• I heard the driver mention a justinbieber. Is this a person?
• How come I can write this well, but not remember anything?

I guess it’s time to play catch-up on life. It’s now late afternoon, time to try this internet thing.

And that’s it. Will be playing with formatting, cover and content for the next couple of episodes, but do tag along. I promise, it will be worth it. For now the plan is for 50 journal entries and should Archi make it to 2017 and still feel fun, possibly another 50. Who knows. 

Thank you for reading. Do share, like and subscribe. It makes life better all-round.