Once my nose got used to the smell of my room, I went to the plastic white drawers. They were two large drawers, and dust covered the entire piece of furniture. I opened the top drawer, and inside there was an assortment of small items: deodorant, cheap jewelry, condoms, and several crystals of different kinds. On top of all of it was a loose sheet of paper, face down. I could see writing in black ink on the other side. I took the sheet of paper and read the note.
Note to self:
If you're reading this and have no idea what's going on, the moon dust worked. You've finally gotten past the first stage. If things go according to plan, everything else will fall into place. Don't concern yourself with most things. Everything you see around you is a lie. Don't believe in any of it for a second. You were meant to go back to that place, but there are people out there who want to stop you. We had to wipe your memories so that you wouldn't be attached to this world anymore. Don't worry, none of it is real. Harry and Stu aren't real, even if they seem like it. No one is. You have to act fast before your memories start coming back. Meet Summer at Excelsior. She'll help you.
2627 Park Ave
I checked the bottom drawer. Inside there was a laptop, a cellphone, and a wallet. I took out the cellphone and wallet. The cellphone was an antiquated model with a traditional number pad. I turned the cellphone on and started looking through it. No contacts. No messages. According to the operating system, there was a SIM card inside, so it had service. I opened the wallet. There was nothing in it except for several hundred-dollar bills. I took the money out and counted it. Three thousand dollars cash. I put the phone and wallet in my pockets. I lifted the laptop out of the drawer, and underneath it was a large pile of hundred-dollar bills. I set the laptop on the floor next to me, took all the money out, and counted it. Eight thousand three hundred dollars.
It seemed that, evidently, I was some kind of lunatic.
But I couldn't understand why I seemed more level-headed. Clearly, the guy who was supposed to be me had his head completely screwed off. For some reason, I was a paranoid dipshit. None of this seemed to make any sense. First stage? Nothing is real? It all felt like some kind of practical joke. I also couldn't understand why I wouldn't want my memories to come back. If I had to go back to some place, it wouldn't make sense for me to not even know where I've been. I must be some kind of idiot, but that wouldn't explain how I found myself with thousands of dollars in cash seemingly thrown into a cheap plastic set of drawers. And if there are people who want to stop me, it seemed ridiculous that I wouldn't know who they were.
I put the loose cash back in the drawer. I looked at the laptop, and it was a small silver thing with a bunch of stickers on it. One sticker said "2RARE2DIE" in a punk-looking font. Another was a wacky drawing of some floating eye monster. Another was a drawing of a sword that had the word "Excelsior" engraved in it. I decided that I didn't need more of my insanity to parse through, so I put the laptop back in the drawer and closed it. I left my room, closed the door behind me, and walked down the hallway back to the living room. That smell of wet roses was even more pungent. I saw Harry sitting on the couch drinking a beer. He was still shirtless.
"Still got that brain damage, pal?" Harry asked, sipping his beer.
I took a seat next to him. "Apparently amnesia is a common side effect of the moon dust," I said. "That's what the reports on Room of Mush said, anyway."
"Yeah, I'd take what a lot of those guys on there say with a grain of salt. Lots of them just make shit up to scare people."
I winced. "Why?"
"Eh, people with nothing better to do, I guess. Just how the internet is these days, man. Oh, you gotta remember the internet, right?"
"Vaguely," I said. I sat there and thought about it for a few moments. "You use it on your computer and read stuff, watch videos, right? All the computers are connected."
"That's what they say, anyway. I don't know how any of that shit works, and I don't want to. Gives me the creeps, honestly. People watch these videos of Mexican guys getting their heads cut off with chainsaws and they think it's cool. Fuck that shit. I just wanna blow my glass and smoke some grass, know what I mean?"
"Blow your glass?"
Harry picked up his pipe off the table and showed it to me. "Who do you think made this beauty? Been blowing glass since I was twelve, bucko. Best in the business."
It made me sad that I didn't remember.
Bitcoin address: bc1qtgqvj6qjxnaxkns20x5rcwnxvv3jqzhduvvxfc