I was reading this book about Salvador Dalí when the idea hit me. Amazing artist; helped invent surrealism, a new spin on cubism, which in turn was nearsighted impressionism gone conceptual...

 

Anyway.

 

Thing about Dalí is, he produced an amazing number of absolutely deranged masterpieces. By comparison, I've created... well. I've painted a few pictures, done a show, sold a couple. I can draw a lamp that looks like a lamp and another one that doesn't but makes you feel the essence of lampishness.

 

But Dalí I am not. What I am is... frankly, I'm a failed inventor. I perfected an image booster for Betamax, and by the time I got it modified for VHS, the DVD was out. Now they're doing Hi-Def without me. Forty-seven patents and nothing to show for it.

 

Dalí got stupendously wealthy with his art while I'm living on ramen packets and my wife — ex-wife — is living with a stockbroker. The obvious thing for me to do was to learn more about him and see if he had any special techniques I could borrow, and maybe adapt. Apart from being born a century ago, that is. Time travel is beyond me.

 

It turns out Dalí's usual trick to tap into his subconscious was to lie on a couch while dozing, a fork held between his fingers over a plate on the floor. He'd fall asleep, and after a minute the fork would fall and hit the plate, and the noise would wake him up. He would then mine the vast riches exposed in those brief glimpses of his dream state for inspiration, and jot down quick notes or leap up overpowered by a fever of creation and paint the hell out of a canvas.

 

So I figured, what the hell, I'll give it a try. What could go wrong? And it worked. First try, I came up with a grand idea for a machine that would amplify my alpha waves. It was brilliant, based on simple EM flux principles — nothing I didn't have lying around, just some electrical coils, a basic Faraday cage, and a nine-volt. Two hours with a soldering iron and I was done.

 

So simple! Why has no one done this before?

 

It's now time to give it a test. I'll keep notes.

 

- Mad laughter. Just incessant laughing, constantly. There were no visions, just the sound. It hurt to hear it.

- Lovely lady. She seems so sad. I know her... except now that I think on it, I'm sure I don't.

- Marvelous city, golden in the dawn light. Looking out over the rooftops from my window, down toward the harbor, where a ship is just coming in, full of strange cargoes. Oh, the light on the old slate roofs, still wet from the morning rain... glass balls sparkling in the lightning rods, the gambrels and gables and spires... Why does this make me think of cats?

- Strange chittering noise, not laughter this time but more like a million rats in a tiny cage, little nails squeaking as they scrape the metal floor

- Someone is driving and it's not me. We're going far too fast, weaving in and out of traffic, the city skyline flashes by as we cross the bridge... I crane to see who's under the driver's helmet... An empty suit, leather, empty gloves, there's no one at the wheel... God, that wasn't fun.

- Bugs bugs bugs bugs BUGS bugs bugs they're everywhere in my nose crawling down my throat I cough and choke up bugs but there are more they're aah they're

 

Good Christ, that was terrifying!

 

I can't hold the pen, the memories are so fresh and real. I get up, walk to the kitchen, pour some hot water, make tea. I lift the cup to my lips and sip. The memories are fading, and I'm torn between Oh Hell and Thank God. I take up my notebook again and record that last vision as I pace the crappy linoleum in my tiny kitchen.

 

Dimly it strikes me I'm only using my right hand, but not why. My left is cramped. That must be it.

 

My forehead itches, and I raise my left hand to scratch, only to find I'm still grasping the fork. I stare.

 

Cramp has frozen my hand into a fist. That happens sometimes when I'm lying on it, it falls asleep and the muscles clench, but as soon as I wake it relaxes and...

 

Agh! A bug on my hand, a cockroach, waving its feelers at me! I knock it down, but two more are on the back of my other hand, and more are climbing my pants my legs under my sleeves AAAH NO bugsbugs bugs BUGS in my nose

 

Drop the fork drop the fork DROP THE FORK PLEASE DROP THE