Robert Rankin - The Brightonomicon

'Searching for your wallet?' said Mr Rune. 'Lost to the sea, I suspect.'

'But I-' And I scratched at my towel-enshrouded head. 'I cannot remember my name. I have lost my memory.' 'It will no doubt return presently. More Scotch?'

I nodded bleakly and did rackings of the brain. I had lost my memory. I had no recollection of who I was, where I lived or indeed what I had been doing wherever I had just been doing it. Although I remembered something of the sea.

'You are in Brighton,' said Mr Rune, refreshing my glass, 'in my rooms at forty-nine Grand Parade. Our paths have not crossed by accident. We are all subject to the laws of karma. It is therefore certain that you would have found me sooner or later, but it is convenient that you should have done so now, rather than later, as it were.'

'I fail to understand.' I was shivering more than ever now and Mr Rune was coming in and out of focus. I was far from well, which was hardly surprising as I had so recently been dead. 'I do not think I can talk any more,' I said. 'In fact, I think I am going to-' Pass out. And I did. ? I awoke the next time to discover myself in a cosy room. I lifted the covers of the cosy bed to discover myself naked beneath them. And for a moment I smiled somewhat, because now I did recall that I was in Brighton with a girlfriend whose name momentarily eluded me.

I turned to view this lovely and to make certain suggestions as to how we might begin our day. But I found myself alone. And bewildered.

And then the door to the cosy room opened and a great big man walked in. And the terrible circumstances of the previous night (well, some of them, at least) came rushing back.

'Mister Hugo Rune,' said I and took to shivering once again. 'Rizla,' said Mr Rune, 'I have brought you breakfast.'

'Rizla?' I said and I shook my head. 'I do not think that my name is Rizla.'

'So what might it be, then?' Mr Rune placed a tray upon a bedside table, a tray generously burdened with a fry-up of heroic proportions.

'My name is-' And my memory returned to me – not of my name, but of the memory that I could not remember it. So to speak.

'Fear not,' said Mr Rune, 'it will return. But for now Rizla is as good a name as any.' 'It's not,' I protested. 'It's a rubbish name.' 'It will serve for the present. Enjoy your repast.' And he departed, slamming the door behind him. I ate and I cogitated. The meal restored my body, but I remained troubled to my very soul. I did not know who I was, where I had been born, whether I had family or not. It was a horrible thing to experience and it brought me nearly to the point of tears. I maintained, however, a stiff upper lip. Of one thing I did feel certain: I was a brave young man, fifteen to sixteen years of age, by my reckoning, and I also felt certain that I would soon clear up the matter of my identity and return to wherever I had come from and into the arms of those who loved me. Assuming that there were those who loved me.

I felt some pangs of sadness and doubt regarding this. Perhaps I was an orphan boy. Perhaps my childhood had been the stuff of horror. Perhaps I had done questionable things.

The door opened and Mr Rune stuck his overlarge head around it. 'Such thoughts will give you a headache,' said he, 'and no practical good will come from them. Finish your breakfast and join me in my study. We have matters to discuss.' I did as I was bid, wrapped myself up in the bed sheet and joined Hugo Rune, who was sitting in his study. I had taken in certain details of this curious room upon the previous night, but now, with sunlight tumbling in through the casement windows, I was afforded a clearer view of it and absorbed fully its true and wondrous nature.

The room was well furnished with comfortable chairs of the Victorian persuasion and much period knick-knackery in the shape of mysterious curiosities. There were beasts encased by domes of glass that looked like mythical creatures to me, and there were canes and swords and muskets, too. I spied a brass astrolabe and numerous pieces of ancient scientific equipment, all brazen cogs and ball-governors. An ornate oak dining table surrounded by heavily carved Gothic chairs stood near a decorative drinks cabinet, and there were many, many leather-bound books on shelves and in piles and willy-nilly here and there and in sundry other places. One wall was all but covered by a great street map of Brighton, and upon this map were traced a number of figures resembling men and animals, following the lines of various roads, which put me in mind of pictures I had seen of the Nasca Plains. Which cheered me slightly, because it meant that there were some things that I could remember -books I had read, things that I had seen – although as to where and when, these details remained a mystery.

'What an extraordinary room,' I observed. 'You must surely have travelled all over the world to have amassed such an eclectic collection of ephemera.'

Mr Rune clapped his great hands together. 'Excellent,' said he. 'An articulate young man – a rare thing indeed in this benighted age. Sit yourself down next to me.'

I settled myself into the comfortable chair with which I had made my acquaintance the previous night. 'I still feel unwell,' I said. 'And I think I should not be taking up your time. As soon as I am dressed I will be off upon my way. If you saved my life, sir, then I thank you for it, but I must go now and somehow find out who I am.'

'And how do you propose to go about this?' Mr Rune held a schooner of sherry in one hand, and although I felt that it was somewhat early in the morning to be drinking, clearly he did not. He tossed the sherry down his throat and repeated, 'How do you propose to go about this?'

'I will call in at the nearest police station and report myself missing,' I declared.

Mr Rune laughed a big laugh deep from his belly regions. 'That should be entertaining,' he said. 'I hope you won't mind if I accompany you to the police station. I have some business there myself' 'I have no objections whatever,' I said.

'Good,' said he. 'Good. But before we do so, let me suggest to you that we don't.' 'Oh?' said I. 'And why not?'

'Well,' said Mr Rune, 'if, as has already troubled your mind, you have loved ones, they will surely shortly report you missing. Would you not think this probable?' 'I would,' I said.

'Then perhaps you should wait for them to do so. Keep an eye out for articles in the newspapers regarding missing persons. Wait for your photograph and name to turn up.' I made doubtful sounds. 'Perhaps you need the toilet,' said Mr Rune. 'They were not those kind of doubtful sounds.' 'Pardon me.' 'I still think the police station would be the best option.' Mr Rune did noddings of the head. 'The policemen might fingerprint you,' he suggested. 'They might,' I said.

'Which could prove calamitous should you turn out to be a criminal on the run from justice.'

'I am no criminal!' said I and rose from my chair, losing both my bed sheet and my modesty in doing so. I hastily retrieved the sheet and took to re-covering myself.

'Are you absolutely certain of your innocence?' Mr Rune arched a hairless eyebrow. 'Perhaps it is fortuitous that you have forgotten who you are. Perhaps you do not wish to remember your name.'

'Nonsense,' I said. 'I am no criminal. I know that I am not. I am honest, me. I would surely know if I was not.' 'You might not be being honest with yourself.' 'I want my clothes,' I said. 'I want to leave.'

Mr Rune set his empty glass aside and took to the filling of the largest smoking pipe that I felt certain I had ever observed.

'You're not really certain about anything,' he said, looking up at me between fillings. 'I have an offer that I wish to make to you. As I told you last night, I do not believe that our paths have crossed through chance alone. I do not believe in chance. Fate brought you to me. I saved your life and I did so that your life should receive a purpose that it previously lacked. Throw in your lot with me and I can promise you great things.' 'What manner of great things?' I enquired. 'Great things of a spiritual nature.'