I'll tell you a story about a friend of mine & what happened to him five years ago in the year 3026. It is a true account of his dealings with the indescribable evil of archaic thought & narrow-mindedness. Now i know what you're thinking, this story is obviously made up because five years ago was the past & 3026 is the future. Well, what can i say? I guess all i can do is ask you to set aside everything that you've believed up until this point, if only for ten minutes while you read this. I could go into an argument & ask you to prove to me the year isn't 3031, & you could offer me reasons such as the calendar on your wall, or even simpler, pure popular belief, but do you really believe those to be true? If so, why? Is it because it is written in a book, because this is written in a book, yet you say you do not believe it. Well anyways, here's the story, it is absolutely true, that's all i can say.

"My name" he says as long, bony fingers grope scalp under an insignificant growth of stubble, as if trying to massage out an answer. "I'm not sure.... I don't remember. It's been years.... Why?"

"You don't need to know why, just answer the lovin' questions, you miserable lover. It's important."

"I'll give you important," my friend says as he rises & approaches the obviously & significantly smaller man dressed in blue, who simply smiles at the attempt. Three other men dressed in blue intercede. One of them bashes my friend's leg with a nightstick, hard enough to send him sprawling down to his knees. Another comes up behind my fallen friend & begins choking him, night stick pressed so hard into his throat that my friend is barely able to spit out "love you" over the drone of the ventilation system.

Upon receipt of a signal, my friend is let go & falls forwards to his hands & knees trying desperately to gain any available air within the humid corridor. The cold cement is covered in patches of mildew & moss that my friend was trying to remove before he was interrupted. The air is stale & heavy; it actually hurts my friend to breathe so hard. The dim, rusty-orange lights of the corridor let my friend see only shadows as he tries to look up at the men's faces. The smaller man approaches & squats so that his face is almost pressed up against my friend's.

"You'd like to kiss me wouldn't you...? Don't try & deny it; i can see it in your eyes. If i gave you the chance i'd be dead. Don't worry; i won't give you that chance.

Wouldn't want you to do anything you'd regret sooner.

"Look, i don't want any trouble. I just don't remember my name. All i know is my number, 35883. It's all anyone's ever called me since...."

My friend is interrupted by a nightstick striking his head. "Watch your tongue, lover! Another slip like that & you'll be cleaning toxic waste out of the sewers on the surface."

Again my friend gropes his head, only this time it's to feel the welt left behind by the cold steel. "You can't get blood from a stone."

"That's very poetic. It's fortunate that you are not a stone, & that we can indeed get blood from you."

With another strike from a nightstick everything goes blank.

My friend awakens sometime later with a headache & a cloudy feeling throughout, his breathing raspy & laboured. The mindless hum of the massive ventilation fans is a constant reminder of how sore his head is. Water drips on him from the ceiling of the dark cement cube in which he lay, & the realization that he is naked hits just as he hears a voice.

"Well well, look who's up."

My friend turns to locate the origin but is greeted only by the intense shock of a flashlight being shone in his eyes. My friend puts a hand up trying to block the light & turns his head away.

"How's the head?"

Two men appear & grab my friend, who is still too dazed to do anything about it. They dress him in an orange jumpsuit & carry him off to a room that is merely a larger cement cube, brightly lit, with a chair in the very center of the floor being the only furnishing. The walls are gray & dingy; they are water stained in spots. My friend is sat down, strapped to the arms & legs of the chair, & a cable is placed loosely around his neck. He tries to look at his surroundings but closes his eyes tightly as the overpowering light penetrates his eyes & heightens the throbbing in his head. A voice comes from the corner.

"So it is you, Kalif.... When they told me they had found you, well, naturally, i was skeptical. I mean i really thought that you, were gone for good. I had you written off.

"Do i know you?"

"Open your eyes, take a look."

"I can't."

"Trust me."

"I just can't."

"It seems there are a lot of things you can't do these days Kalif. I mean, what's this about you not remembering your name?"

"I don't remember my name, that's it, period."

"Well, let me help you out with that, Kalif." As he speaks the last word he slaps my friend across the face, then repeats this twice more as he speaks "Kalif, Kalif. I'm disappointed that you don't remember. I thought that you had the best chance of all. Don't you remember anything?"

"I remember my number, that's it. Oh, & the fact that i've been kidnapped & brought here for no reason."

"Kidnapped, tisk, tisk Kalif, i'm insulted. Is that anyway to talk to your creator? Oh, & as for your number..." the man rips open the front of my friend's acquired jumpsuit & reads the number. "35883, yes, that's it. Tell me Kalif, is it possible the only reason you remember that is because it is branded on your chest?"

"I don't know."

The cable around my friend's neck tightens & applies just enough pressure on his throat to seriously hinder his ability to breathe. Every muscle in my friend's body clenches in resistance to the sudden change in the immediate possibility of death. After 5 seconds the cable releases causing a relaxation of my friend's posture & a new realization of the value of the oxygen deprived air.

"Oh yes, i almost forgot..." with a mild hint of laughter "forgot... every time you say that you don't know something, the cable around your neck will tighten for a slightly longer period than the last. My apologies for not mentioning it sooner, slipped my mind."

The man walks over & stands directly in front of my friend, leaning over so that his face is within inches of my friend's. Of course my friend only knows this by the fact that his heat & breath seep over with every word the man spews.

"Well, well, well, what are we going to do with you Kalif?"

"I don't kn...."

"You see, you're learning already. I knew you were one of my better works."

"Love you! Stop talking all this shit."

"Ahh, well, a small amount of progress is progress nonetheless. Don't you want to know where you come from Kalif? What you were like before? Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"I haven't given it much thought."

"Perhaps you should. All i offer is information. All i offer is your past."

"I don't really give a shit about the past, all i want is to be left alone."

"Do you really think that you have a choice in this? Now tell me, what's your name?"

"I don't know."

The words slip out before my friend even knows what he is saying, & just as quickly the cable tightens. My friend gasps for air having used all of what he had in the last outburst.

"You're starting to aggravate me Kalif. I've been calling you Kalif since you got here & i haven't called you anything else, so i ask you, what do you think your name is Kalif?"

"I told you already; i don't know you lov...."

The cable tightens again cutting my friend off mid-sentence.

"I know that you're intelligent; i made sure of that personally. Are you sure that you don't have any idea what it could possibly be?"

"Positive."

"'Tis a shame, i can't imagine a more pathetic existence than not knowing your own name, or where you come from, long lost school chums, or perhaps even a first kiss.

A tear begins to form in my friend's eye.