The Man who was Drowned

A man escapes from the mysterious Foundation and seeks solace amongst the waves. Recaptured and placed under confinement, he has little way of finding the answers he so desperately seeks. Why is he here? What is the Foundation? And most importantly, what is his name? Subject to forces beyond his control and seemingly helpless, there appears no end in sight.

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9. The Door

 

“Lay the tray down on the desk and get out.” There was a level of stress in her voice, indicating she was not at all happy at being forced to abandon her daily routine and eat dinner in her office. Luckily for him she did not glance up at him yet continued to stare at her work. If she had recognised him, it would have ruined all chance of his plan coming to fruition. He was escorted out of the room and back down the corridor, the guard seemingly anxious that they should not linger on the third floor for a second longer than necessary.

 

As he was escorted back through the complex maze of corridors, he made certain they were following the same path by which they had arrived. Everything hinged on that one door. They reached a fork in the corridor and when the guard lingered a second too long before making a choice he knew it was time to act. He could not afford to be led astray. His hands were in his pockets, and his fingers clasped the handle of the knife as he span around and repeatedly stabbed at the guard. The unexpectedness and the ferocity of the attack took the guard by surprise, and before he could properly react the blade had been sunk several times into his stomach then been moved up to pierce his throat. Blood gushing, the guard collapsed on the floor dead.

 

He knew he did not have much time. The guard had not made much noise and there appeared to be nobody else patrolling this floor, relying on the guard at the foot at the stairs to ward off intruders. He briefly considered moving to eliminate the second guard before he got suspicious, then decided it too risky. Blood was soaking into the carpet as he reached down and cut at the chain of keys attached to the guard's waist and freed them. Doubling back on himself, he went to seek out the door.

 

No, no, no, yes. Here it was, the seventh door along. He fumbled around for a few precious minutes finding the right key to fit the lock and the door swung open. Confusion was what awaited him as he entered. It was a cleaning cupboard, stocked with brushes, mops and a range of liquids which lined the shelves. Frustrated, he returned to the corridor, having wasted valuable time accessing the wrong door. He returned to the end of the corridor to retrace his steps and to ensure he found the right one this time. He found he had simply miscounted, the door he required was the one to the left of the cupboard.

 

After repeating the same process of trial and error in locating the key, he opened this second door. It looked like storage, yet he knew. He knew that somewhere among these filing cabinets were the crucial clues which would help him piece together his identity. He closed the door behind him. It was dark, and he fumbled around for a few moments before he found the light switch. Opening the first filing cabinet, he pulled out a document and began to read. #246845. It was time to find out what on earth he was doing here.  

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