On the table

"What?" was all I could think of to say.

The question was so unexpected, so completely out of left field, that it completely threw me for a moment.

"What's that got to do with anything? Why are you asking - and anyway, how do you know my mother gets migraines?"

"I'm sorry, Alan - I'm getting ahead of myself. Can't resist trying to pin down a pet theory of mine. There is so much you need to need to understand before we come to that."

He reached into a drawer and took something from it. He dropped this, a couple of capsules, onto the table: they landed with a light, rustling sound, which for some reason made me think of insects.

They looked both sinister and entirely banal.

"Do you recognise these, at all?" asked Mr Smith.

I shook my head, puzzled.

"Does the name Lucidar mean anything to you?"

I thought for a moment, but again, shook my head.

"Well, Alan - Lucidar is - was - a treatment for migraine headaches. Your mother was prescribed it for a number of years, according to her medical records, and this period covers the months in which she was pregnant with you.

"There is extremely compelling evidence that this medication" - he indicated the capsules that lay between us on the table - "is directly linked to the circumstances in which you find yourself."



Story begins here.