 How did Zarwell lose his memories?
[p 135 ] By CHARLES V. DE VET monkey on his back Under the cloud of cast-off identities lay the shape of another man— was it himself? Illustrated by DILLON HE was walking endlessly down a long, glass-walled corridor. Bright sunlight slanted in through one wall, on the blue knapsack across his shoulders. The truth lurked in some corner of his consciousness, but it was not reached by surface awareness. The corridor opened at last into a large high-domed room, much like a railway station or an air terminal. At the first turn he saw that the aisle merely circled the stairway, coming out into the depot again on the other side. It took him only a few seconds to push the case into the compartment, lock it and slide the key along the floor beneath the locker. But the fact that they had been expecting him meant that others would very probably be waiting outside. A tall ruffian, copper-brown face damp with perspiration and body oil, grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him back against the lockers. The floor beneath Zarwell’s feet assumed abruptly the near transfluent consistency of a damp sponge. It rose in a foot-high wave and rolled gently toward the far wall. The floor continued its transmutation, and Zarwell sank deep into viscous depths. ZARWELL found himself standing on a vast plain. He should know all about the instrument, its purpose and workings, but he could not bring his thoughts into rational focus. Zarwell grunted acknowledgment and pushed himself to his feet, apparently unaware that his shirt clung damply to his body. Zarwell was careful not to rest his hand on the flesh searing surface of the stone. The evening meal hour was approaching when he reached the Flats, on the way to his apartment. The only sounds he heard as he passed were the occasional cry of a baby, chronically uncomfortable in the day’s heat, and the lowing of imported cattle waiting in a nearby shed to be shipped to the country. Zarwell passed a group of smaller children playing a desultory game of lic-lic for pieces of candy and cigarettes. [p 139 ] The next morning when Zarwell awoke he lay for a moment, unmoving. The feeling was there again, like a scene waiting only to be gazed at directly to be perceived. Yet always, when his mind lost its sleep-induced [p 140 ] lethargy, the moment of near understanding slipped away. This morning, however, the sense of disorientation did not pass with full wakefulness.
 Zarwell had his memories removed so he could get out of the revolution business.
 A soldier hit Zarwell in the head with the butt of a gun, leaving him with amnesia.  Zarwell was knocked unconscious when a building collapsed around him. He awoke with amnesia.  Zarwell had his memories removed so he could get out of the revolution business.  A bullet grazed Zarwell's head during the last revolution, leaving him with amnesia.