It was a joyous journey Andersset out on ... to reach his goal... but look where he wound up!
Illustrated by EMSH
Anders lay on his bed, fullydressed except for hisshoes and black bow tie,contemplating, with a certain uneasiness,the evening before him.In twenty minutes he would pickup Judy at her apartment, andthat was the uneasy part of it.
He had realized, only secondsago, that he was in love with her.
Well, he'd tell her. The eveningwould be memorable. He wouldpropose, there would be kisses,and the seal of acceptance would,figuratively speaking, be stampedacross his forehead.
Not too pleasant an outlook,he decided. It really would bemuch more comfortable not tobe in love. What had done it?A look, a touch, a thought? Itdidn't take much, he knew, andstretched his arms for a thoroughyawn.
"Help me!" a voice said.
His muscles spasmed, cuttingoff the yawn in mid-moment. Hesat upright on the bed, thengrinned and lay back again.
"You must help me!" the voiceinsisted.
Anders sat up, reached for apolished shoe and fitted it on,giving his full attention to thetying of the laces.
"Can you hear me?" the voiceasked. "You can, can't you?"
That did it. "Yes, I can hearyou," Anders said, still in a highgood humor. "Don't tell meyou're my guilty subconscious,attacking me for a childhoodtrauma I never bothered to resolve.I suppose you want me tojoin a monastery."
"I don't know what you'retalking about," the voice said."I'm no one's subconscious. I'mme. Will you help me?"
Anders believed in voices asmuch as anyone; that is, he didn'tbelieve in them at all, until heheard them. Swiftly he cataloguedthe possibilities. Schizophreniawas the best answer, ofcourse, and one in which his colleagueswould concur. But Andershad a lamentable confidencein his own sanity. In which case—
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I don't know," the voice answered.
Anders realized that the voicewas speaking within his ownmind. Very suspicious.
"You don't know who you are,"Anders stated. "Very well. Whereare you?"
"I don't know that, either."The voice paused, and went on."Look, I know how ridiculousthis must sound. Believe me, I'min some sort of limbo. I don'tknow how I got here or who I am,but I want desperately to getout. Will you help me?"
Still fighting the idea of avoice speaking within his head,Anders knew that his next decisionwas vital. He had to accept—orreject—his own sanity.
He accepted it.
"All right," Anders said, lacingthe other shoe. "I'll grant thatyou're a person in trouble, andthat you're in some sort of telepathiccontact with me. Is thereanything else you can tell me?"
"I'm afraid not," the voice said,with infinite sadness. "You'll haveto find out for yourself."
"Can you contact anyoneelse?"
"No."
"Then how can you talk withme?"
"I don't know."
Anders walked to his bureaumirror and adjusted his blackbow tie, whistling softly under hisbreath. Having just discoveredthat he was in love, he wasn'tgoing to let a little thing like avoice in his mind disturb him.
"I really don't see how I canbe of any help," Anders said,brushing a bit of lint from hisjacket. "You don't know whereyou are, and there don't seem tobe any distinguishing landmarks.How am I to find you?" Heturned and looked around theroom to see if he had forgottenanything.
"I'll know when