The Memory Painter

When Bryan opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. He was no longer bound in a straitjacket, locked up in the psychiatric ward Conrad had secreted him away to. He was far, far away, trapped inside a hallucination brought on by the drug the orderlies had given him.

He was sitting onboard the T, moving toward an unknown destination. An old couple behind him was talking in Russian, arguing over Nikola Tesla’s theory of electromagnetism. Two seats away, another couple was speaking German, debating Freud’s construct of the ego, Jung’s definition of the collective unconscious, and the demise of the two men’s friendship.

Bryan’s head started to throb and he grew nauseous. Everyone in the car was speaking a language other than English—and Bryan could understand them all.

The train stopped, and he looked up to see Christiaan Huygens stepping into the car, holding the clock that Barbara had found. He took a seat across from Bryan and stared at him all the way to the next station. The ticking pendulum inside the clock grew louder and louder.

The doors opened, and in stepped Alexander Pushkin followed by Lord Asano.

Bryan pressed hard on his temples and focused on his mantra as the train began to move. I am here now. I’m here now. I’m here now. I’m here now.

The train stopped. The doors opened. And in stepped a hundred people from every time in history imaginable. Bryan knew them all.

He could barely breathe. All the people in his paintings had come to life and decided to ride the subway with him. Everyone stared at him—except Michael, who was sitting beside him, looking out the window. Still, the train did not move. Bryan realized they were waiting for someone.

The Egyptian goddess was the last to board. She escorted Origenes Adamantius onto the train and helped him find a place to sit. His frailty stood in stark contrast to her vitality. After she seated the old priest, she started to walk down the aisle toward Bryan.

When she reached him, she leaned in and spoke softly. “You see time as a stream, a continuous river flowing forward, and you are swimming in it, alone. But it is not. Imagine all your lives at once, all the pieces of your soul boarding the same train. Where are you going? Karma is a distraction to keep you sitting here. See your soul outside of time, and you will arrive at your destination.”