"The Veil of Dreams" (Part 1 of 2)

Fog, drab-gray streets. Pre-dawn night, slight graying of sky over calm harbor. The clatter of carriage wheels and hoofbeats on cobbled streets. Urgency. Something wrong. Growing numb...

Katherine started awake, the dream-like impressions already fading. Why did she feel so warm? A fever?

An attempt to put her hand to her head informed her of the restraints. Someone in the room muttered something, probably announcing that she was awake. Restraints? Why were those needed? Katherine struggled to lift her head.

“Dr. Greene, please remain still.” The voice, familiar, but Katherine couldn’t attach to it a name. The accent was American English, but it still sounded wrong. “We’re going to help you.” Though the tone and words were meant to be palliative, Katherine knew what they implied. Or, at least, she knew she should know what they implied.

Someone in a lab coat grabbed hold of her arm and held up a needle. “This is for the fever.” Before Katherine could react, the syringe’s contents were squeezed into her veins, and the world began to fade back out.

“...my God, what is happening to...” someone said, through the haze. “Get me another...”

White coats, bright, bluish light. Impossibly thin needles. Acrid clean smell. Calm voices, fear, uncertainty.

Katherine awoke bathed in sweat as she was lifted from the street. Her hair was loose, and plastered to her skull by the perspiration, tickling her neck and face where the morning breeze caught it. It was well past dawn, and the light streamed down the streets facing the harbor. Fear leaking through from the dream made her struggle feebly against the arms lifting her.

“It’s all right now, my dear.” The voice, familiar. Soothing. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Katherine, the dream fading, placed the voice. “Oswald.” She whispered, that being all she could manage. The fever still had her in its grip, but it was receding. As her husband loaded her into the carriage, Katherine drifted back off, but she still felt Oswald’s heartbeat against her cheek.

“I didn’t jump out of the carriage, Oswald.” The sitting-room was lit only by the embers in the fireplace, and empty but for Oswald Gardner and his wife, leaning against each other on a claw-footed sofa. Above the mantle, a portrait of Oswald’s parents, arms about each others’ waists, smiled elusively down. Katherine’s fever had tapered off during the night, and though she was far from recovered, she was well enough to be out of bed. “No bruises, no scrapes. What else could explain it? I went back - however briefly.”

Oswald clearly didn’t like that line of reasoning. ”Is that all it would take to send you back? A bad fever?” He hugged Katherine closer. “I remembered what you’d told me when I got to the doctor’s and found you missing, and feared the worst. It turns out I was right.”

“No, you weren’t. I’m here.” Katherine caught her husband’s gaze and held it, trying again in vain to recall something about the place where she’d been. It was like trying to remember a bad dream, that is, rather useless. “Though I wish I knew why. I was there, but only for a short time.”

“When you first came here, you thought you’d be going back somewhere quickly.” Oswald reminded her. “Though you couldn’t tell me where or why. Now I think I understand.”

“Oswald, I can’t remember it. It fades like a dream. I remember nothing but being scared and confused.” Katherine was frustrated, and Oswald knew why - she was very bright, and had an almost perfect memory of events. All that memory failed her, though, when it came to remembering the place she came from.

Oswald was silent for a few moments. He believed his wife, but the whole thing had had him worried. Three years prior, when they’d met, Katherine had been wandering the streets of Boston dressed like a man, dazed but certain that any second she’d be vanishing, returning to somewhere she couldn’t quite remember. Oswald had thought she’d been drugged, and given her refuge. He’d thought all that nonsense behind them, now, after twenty-six months of marriage. That it wasn’t worried him.

Katherine broke the silence. “Oswald, I don’t want to go back. I’m happy here. I only remember impressions, but one I don’t remember is happiness.”

“Tell me what I can do, Katherine. Shut you up in a warm room without windows, so you don’t catch ill?” He put a hand to her chin and lifted her drooping gaze. “Tell me what I can do to keep you here.”

Katherine sighed. “I don’t know of anything you can do.”

Oswald shook his head. “I don’t like it. Feeling... powerless.” His family was quite wealthy, so it wasn’t something he often felt. He loved Katherine for all the reasons some of his family had scoffed at his decision to court her - her independence, her irrepressible intellect, even, yes, the mystery of her origins.

“I don’t either. But we don’t have a choice.” Katherine sighed. “Look at it this way - this time we got through. We can only hope that if there’s a next time, the same will happen.”

Desperation. Have to find a way. Uncertainty, fear. White room, bare walls. Needle in hand, hesitation. Is this really necessary? Yes. Brief thought of preparation. The needle descends, the plunger is pressed...

Conrad took his first steps uncertainly. He remembered that he had to do something, but what, and where? His own first name came readily to mind, but everything else was - wait. His left hand clutched a rolled-up bundle of yellow paper which seemed oddly familiar, but in the evening, even the dim illumination of a nearby gas-lamp streetlight wouldn’t be enough to read. Something about this scene was unexpected, though he couldn’t remember what.

The bright, warm light from a nearby window and the sign above that window advertised a tavern or a bar, supposedly the “best place Boston,” so Conrad headed unsteadily for it. Boston, that sounded familiar, but he couldn’t say why. Why couldn’t he remember anything before a minute ago? Did he exist before that - his brain said yes, that he did. Well, what was he doing then? Nothing but haze and impressions answered.

He sat down at a table near the fire and unrolled the paper he’d been clutching. What was on it was in a familiar hand - his own, probably - and he could read it, but he had no memory of writing it.

In case of transitional memory loss:

Your name is Dr. Conrad Pazio. You were born January 15, 1981, and you work in experimental pharmaceuticals at a lab in Boston, Massachusets.

Conrad’s mind took the words and ran with them. Yes, he could now remember a few vague things - textbooks and theories and a lot of work in white-walled labs in a big building. But what was this “lab”? The word conjured an image, but the image was... blurry. He read further, and with each word his mind put more of the foggy picture into focus. 

One thing was for sure, the “Boston” of the note wasn’t the same one advertised on the sign. None of the impressions he remembered fit - where he recalled vague impressions of a clean, white, well-lit place, the Boston of this place seemed dim, slightly dirty, and gray.

There was weight in one of the pockets of the jacket Conrad was wearing - he put a hand in, and withdrew a strange handle with metal studs on one end, a small glass bottle, and two syringes sealed tightly in crinkled, clear wrapping. He knew what they were immediately, though he didn’t know how he knew. In the bottle was a clear, slightly purple-hued liquid - Conrad knew instinctively that that would help him get back to wherever he came from.

Instructions for using everything in his pocket were listed at the bottom of the page, but also there was a command - find Dr. Katherine Greene and being her back. The name conjured up the image of a woman, thirtyish, petite, with glasses and hair collected into a utilitarian ponytail.

So he knew what he was here to do - now how was he going to do it?

Katherine felt well enough the next morning to go for a walk, and Oswald was more than happy to escort her. He knew that in most situations his wife wasn’t as frail or dependant as women were expected to be, but after the close call in the carriage, he was unwilling to let her out of his sight for too long, as if this might keep her from simply vanishing yet again. 

Katherine, for her part, was glad of the company. Oswald was always sharp enough to keep up with her intellectually, which was one of the reasons they’d gotten so close. She’d found out soon after her arrival that this was a rare trait here. 

“Oswald, I had a thought.” Katherine ventured. “If I got here once, and then returned after a short time away during my fever, what’s to stop me from coming back again, if I do vanish?”

Oswald shrugged. “I can’t think of any reason you can’t, my dear, only a fear that you might not remember.”

Katherine smiled. “You think I would not remember you? I hardly think that’s possible.”

Oswald stopped, and faced his wife. “I’ve been thinking too. You can’t remember much about being there when you’re here - I see no reason that won’t work in the other direction as well.”

Katherine furrowed her brows - she hadn’t considered that. “True. But I do remember a few things. Impressions.” She drew him into motion again with gentle pressure on his arm. “Perhaps it will be enough to draw me back.”

Oswald’s brow arched, as if he’d gotten an idea. “Why take that chance? Katherine, you arrived here wearing strange clothes, the clothes of another world. Perhaps a note in your pocket would travel with you, were you to suddenly return again?”

Katherine nodded. “That’s a good idea. I could write a letter to myself, to remind me what I have here.”

“Please, Katherine, let me write it.”Oswald offered. “I need to feel like I’ve done something. I can’t just sit idly by.”

Katherine sympathized. Her husband didn’t have to work, due to his inherited wealth, but he did anyway, managing a newspaper printing business. He’d always been a man who hated being idle. After a moment’s consideration, she nodded her assent. “Seal it up so if it gets wet it isn’t ruined.” Something told Katherine that the fine vellum that Oswald would use for a letter should last longer than printing-press paper, but where she’d learned that she couldn’t recall.

At first, Conrad’s blind search was rather fruitless. No-one seemed to know the name “Dr. Katherine Greene”, and eventually he decided to stop using her title, as it seemed to confuse people. Apparently “everyone knew” that there were only three doctors in town, and they were all middle-aged men.

After an hour or so of arbitrarily asking passerby, Conrad changed tactics to asking about newspaper printers. Maybe, he thought, some random woman appearing in the streets will have been worthy of print. Having seen several people carrying newsprint, he’s sure there’s a printer around. Conrad guesses that, wherever he came from, newspapers also existed, because as soon as he saw one he knew what it was, and some details about how it was made.

That question was more successful, and soon Conrad was on his way to the office of the "Times Modern", a local newspaper. Apparently, it was the third-largest paper in Boston.

Several wrong turns and a few more helpful directions later, Conrad stood in the front of the "Times Modern" print shop. The place, part storage room and part business counter, was filled with tottering stacks of newsprint, mostly blank. At least one stack was the day’s paper. A shop-boy of maybe twelve or thirteen slouched on a stool in the back, probably hoping that Conrad would leave rather than ask something of him.

 “Excuse me, I’m wondering if you have copies of older editions of your paper here?” Conrad asked.

“Plenty of yesterday’s paper around, sir.” He immediately answered.

“I was hoping for something from a bit farther back... three years ago on April 24?” That’s the date that the note had mentioned Katherine disappeared for the first time. Conrad only hoped that time progressed the same here as it did where he’d written his note.

The boy looked at Conrad oddly, but mumbled something about going to check and vanished into the back of the shop. He didn’t sound too hopeful, and he was gone several minutes before returning. “Sorry, sir. Nothin’ that old here.”He didn’t sound too disappointed about that.

“Ah, well.” Conrad frowned, thinking about his next move. “I’m trying to find a friend, who came here a few years ago. Would you know who might be able to help me find her?”

The boy shrugged. “Might try the records at the courthouse, sir. The Times Modern don’t keep track of things like that.”

Conrad, disappointed, left the shop, armed with directions toward the courthouse. Somehow, he knew that the sort of records the courthouse would keep - births, deaths, marriages, penal sentences, and that sort of thing - would probably not help him too much. Still, the boy was right, it was worth a look. Maybe Dr. Greene had broken one of this place’s laws by accident when she arrived. He knew from the way the note was worded that she was still alive, how his former self had known that, though, was unclear.

The Gardners took their dinner without any company, as usual, though given Oswald’s local prominence they could have easily dined with anyone in town. The sun was below the horizon already, and the night was beaten back in the Gardner house only by a network of oil lamps and candles. Katherine was now used to this lighting, but it always reminded her how she’d thought it odd when she first arrived. What, she wondered, was the source of light used where she’d come from? All she remembered was that it was bright.

At dinner, Oswald held up a cream-colored envelope sealed with red wax. “Here’s your letter, Katherine.” He held it out to her over the small dining table they used when no-one else was around.

Katherine took the letter, turning it over in her hands. It felt a bit heavier than she expected, and thicker - perhaps Oswald had needed multiple pages. Her name was written on one side, in Oswald’s bold, yet precise, handwriting, but it was otherwise unmarked. “What does it say?”

“Let’s hope that you do not need to find out, Katherine.” He suggested gravely as a response. “But it’s nothing you don’t already know, Katherine. It is to remind you, in case you forget.”

Katherine smiled. “Thank you, Oswald. By the way, do you suppose that there’s clean butcher’s paper in the kitchen?”

Oswald smiled. “The letter inside the envelope is folded in a sheet of that already.”

Katherine nodded, remembering that she’d reminded Oswald to seal the letter against water. His method would protect the letter well, and since the only thing on the envelope was her name, not much would be lost if it were to be rained on.

One of the servants, a middle-aged, thin, pinched sort of woman, came in quietly, and stood off to the side, waiting for the Gardners to acknowledge her. Oswald didn’t make her wait more than two seconds before turning in that direction. “Yes, Margred?”

“Mister Gardner, there’s a man at the door.” She started. Something was bothering her, both Gardners could tell already.

“What does he want at this hour?” Oswald frowned. It was rare for visitors to come to his house uninvited, and at this hour it was practically unheard of.

“Beg pardon, sir, he’s asking to see Mrs. Gardner. Says it’s urgent.”

Katherine was just as surprised as her husband at this development. She didn’t exactly spend all her time inside the house, but she knew of no reason for anyone to come looking for her at this time of night. She ran through a list of people who she had been interacting with in the week leading up to her illness. The local glassblowers wouldn’t come all the way up here if there was a problem with her order, they’d send a note. The merchant who helped her order books might come up here to deliver one or two, but not at this time of night, and it couldn’t be called urgent. She had given one of her recently brewed chemicals to Dr. Harris, but Harris had gone out of town soon after to administer the concoction to a sick youth several miles away, and was not expected back for some time. Needless to say, a man coming and asking for another man’s wife at the door was rather unheard of, and definitely improper, unless he had a good reason for it.

“Well, see him into the sitting room.” Oswald, similarly unable to come up with an explanation, said. Katherine detected caution in his voice, balanced out with curiosity. “We’ll be along presently.”

“Yes sir.” Margred nodded, and headed back out.

The couple exchanged a look, and both knew without any words that the other had no insights on this matter.

“All right, let’s go meet your visitor.” Oswald stood. Katherine followed suit, and the two walked together to the room where their visitor would be waiting.

Conrad paced in the room he’d been let into, though he’d been asked to take a seat. Sure, there’d only been one “Katherine Greene” in that records book going back ten years, but then again that record was that of a marriage - to Oswald Gardner, whose house he was now in. He struggled to pull an image out of the fog of his memories - he remembered a basic image, but he had no way of knowing how old the memory was. Would he even recognize the person he’s sent himself to rescue?

Footsteps in the hall. More to the point, why had Dr. Greene married? Sure, she probably remembered less than he did about home, but she had to know she wasn’t from this place. She had to feel out of place, as Conrad did.

The door opposite the one that Conrad had been seen in through opened slowly, and a man and a woman entered. The man stood protectively half a step closer to Conrad than the woman, but he didn’t keep the visitor from recognizing his colleague immediately. Memories rushed back, though incompletely - The woman was indeed Katherine Greene, looking a little frail but otherwise far better than - than what? Conrad for a moment would have thought that when he had last seen Dr. Greene, she was ill, perhaps gravely. If only, he mentally grumbled, everything wasn’t so foggy!

Across the room, Katherine’s eyes widened as for her as well memories bubbled up, though they were just as incomplete. “Conrad.” She spoke his name softly.

Oswald turned to his wife. “You know him?” He was confused, and that made him a little angry. “May I suggest we all have a seat, and that you sir explain what is going on?” His tone was more than a little hostile.

“Oswald, I knew him, back - ” She took a deep breath before finishing the sentence. “Back where I was before I came here.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything about that place.” Oswald said, beckoning to the room’s cluster of cushioned chairs. Conrad remained silent, wisely letting Katherine take the lead on the explanation.

“I don’t know, I just - when I looked at him, I remembered some. His name is Doctor Conrad Pazio. I worked with him, before - ” She frowned, a memory escaping her clutches. “Before I came here.”

“If you’ll allow me, sir, I may have more answers than Dr... than your wife.”

“Yes. Please explain.” Oswald was uncomfortable, but curiosity beat out the discomfort. He guided Katherine to one chair, then took the one next to it, gesturing that Conrad should take one opposite them.

Conrad sat down, leaning forward. “When I got here, I didn’t remember anything. But there was a letter in my pocket.” He unfolded the yellow paper and held it up for a moment. “This is my handwriting. I wrote a note to myself, telling me who I am, and why I’m here.”

“You caried things with you.” Katherine said sideways to Oswald, referencing the letter in her pocket. “Sorry, go on.”

“The letter said that three years ago, Dr. Katherine Greene had an accident and vanished without a trace. No-one knew what happened to her, until she reappeared. She was sick, but just as someone tried to help her, she vanished again - this time people saw her fade into nothing.”

“Yes, I was sick a few days ago, and we think I might have gone... back. At least for an hour or so.” Katherine agreed. “But why are you here?”

Conrad looked to Oswald for a moment, then focused directly on Katherine. “I found a way to follow you, but I also found a way to get back. Permanently.” He put a hand into his pocket, and pulled out the little bottle. “I don’t know how it works, only that it will get us back. Maybe on the other side I know more, I do not remember.”

Oswald didn’t like this development, obviously, but he was too polite to throw the man out, even though he was literally trying to take away Katherine forever. He struggled to think of a decorous way to make the visitor leave, but before he did, Katherine beat him to speaking - with a soft laugh, which surprised both men.

“My dear, what’s so funny?” Oswald asked.

“Dr. Pazio, thank you for the thought, but I’m quite content here.” Katherine said with a good-humored shake of the head. “I’d be delighted if you stayed in town for a few days before using your potion, there, but I won’t be joining you.” She looked to Oswald, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m quite settled here, and see no reason to go back.”

Conrad hadn’t expected this. From what snatches he remembered of the Dr. Greene he’d known, and from the wording of the letter, he did not expect that she would so thoughtlessly turn him down. “You don’t want to go back? But - ”

Katherine interrupted him gently. “Conrad, I’ve been here three years. This is home. You want me to give this up to go somewhere I don’t remember except in foggy bits?” She shook her head. “It’s not so hard a decision as you think.”

Conrad stared intently down at the little bottle in his hand. Had he thought of this before coming? What had he wanted to do if Dr. Greene had refused?

The response came not from his mind, but from the weight of that black handle device in his pocket.

Oswald, having regained composure after his wife showed no intention of leaving, spoke up in the growing awkward silence. “Dr. Pazio, we’d be delighted to have you dine with us, if you plan on staying until tomorrow night. Perhaps between the two of you you might remember more of the place you come from. However, it is late now, and we will be retiring soon.”

Conrad took the hint, and stood. “I’ll... Er, It would be a pleasure to dine with you. What time should I arrive?”

“Seven o’clock will do.” Oswald responded, forcing a smile. He’d made the offer out of courtesy, not out of a desire to have this man return. Oh, well, he thought. How bad could one dinner be? A little awkwardness was the price one sometimes paid for courtesy, after all.

Katherine started, something occurring to her. “One moment, Conrad.” She got up and hurried out of the room, returning a few moments later with a small purse. She took out four large coins, and handed them to Conrad. “If you came here anything like me you don’t have any money. This will be more than enough for one night’s stay.”

Conrad accepted the coins. “You are correct again... Mrs. Gardner.” He hesitated on her new surname, but not too much. “Until tomorrow evening then.” After shaking Oswald’s hand, Conrad left, a servant escorting him to the front door.

“Katherine.” Oswald broke the silence, after Dr. Pazio was long gone.

“Yes, dear?” Katherine asked, breaking out of a growing preoccupation with struggling to remember more about her past.

“How well did you know him?”

Katherine gathered together all the memory fragments she had. “I think... we were colleagues. Worked together. I don’t know what we worked on.” Something with white light and needles, maybe.

“You’re sure you and he were never... closer than that?” Oswald suggested.

Katherine bridled at that suggestion, but immediately realized that she genuinely didn’t know for sure. 

“I don’t think so.” She responded eventually. “I remember him... working. But nothing else about him. I didn’t remember anything at all, until I laid eyes on him. I think if we were closer he would have mentioned it.”

Oswald stood, and paced nervously. “Katherine, this is... uncomfortable. When he asked you to leave, I was scared that I might lose you, and - ”

Katherine stood, and stopped Oswald’s pacing by embracing him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere. He probably thought of this as a rescue. But I know the truth. I was rescued that day I came here, and you found me.”

Oswald relaxed, partially because of his wife’s words and partially because of her physical proximity. “You have no regrets at all?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Katherine whispered.

Oswald believed she meant it. That didn’t mean he believed it himself. As long as Conrad was still in Boston, he knew he would be hard-pressed to sleep easy.

Story continues in part 2 (here).