The citizens around me went up and down the escalator, almost like zombies, as if I was stuck inside a Terry Gilliam film. Everyone around me socializing and indulging in conversations of which all I could hear were murmurs. To my left was a silly man wearing a yellow tie humming familiar tunes, and to my right, a tall tin-man that had a pocket book for a belly. This seemed to be a very industrial gala, very modern and electronic. We were being served adrenochrome mixed with champagne in fancy glasses along-side green slimy slugs in toothpicks, which I dare not touch. It has been five minutes since I told myself that this was insane. Someone has to put a stop to whoever is feeding this madness.
I excused myself from the tin-man who was telling me about his ideas on business cycles and market structures. Had I continued to listen I would probably have died, I hear two men have already died that night because of being in the same situation. And so I rushed, faster than the tin man could have blinked and walked as far as I could.
The Russian vegans (a prominent group who controlled organized crime) seemed to be laid back and non-murderous at the time so I join their company. One of them, Vladimir Ilyich, approached me and gave me a purple cigar. Then there it was, striking me right in the face. It was all making so much sense. I’ve finally found a connection between Korsakoff and B12 deficiency. I never thought it would be the vegans who would enlighten me about this certain topic. I closed my eyes then opened them once more, and there I was in lying in a different place, a dark gray room with bright lights staring right at me, and voices and beeps. Beside me, was the man with the yellow tie once more, only this time he wasn’t feeling silly, not a bit. I did not know who he was but somehow I felt compelled to ask him one question:
“Who is sergei korsakoff?”
The man with the yellow tie nodded then said, “I have been expecting you, follow me…”