Strangers

from his chair, moved to the nearby window, shoved his trembling hands in his pockets, and stared out at the snow-covered lawn. "A self-imposed, naturally generated Azrael Block? Such a thing isn't possible. The human mind will not, of its own volition, put itself at risk of death merely to conceal something from itself. An Azrael Block is always an externally applied control. If you've encountered such a barrier, then someone planted it in her mind."
        "You're saying she's been brainwashed? Ridiculous. She's no spy."
        "I'm sure she's not."
        "She's no Russian. So why would she've been brainwashed? Ordinary citizens don't become targets for that sort of thing."
        Alex turned from the window and faced Pablo. "This is just an educated guess… but perhaps she accidentally saw something she was not supposed to see. Something extremely important, secret. Subsequently, she was subjected to a sophisticated process of memory repression, to make sure she never told anyone about it."
        Pablo stared at him, astonished. "But what could she possibly have seen to've made such extreme measures necessary?"
        Alex shrugged.
        "And who could've tampered with her mind?"
        Alex said, "The Russians, the CIA, the Israeli Mossad, Britain's MI6 - any organization with the knowledge of how such things are done."..
        "I don't think she's traveled outside the U S., which leaves the CIA."
        "Not necessarily. All the others operate in this country for their own purposes. Besides, intelligence organizations are not the only groups whore familiar with mind-control techniques. So are some crackpot religious cults, fanatical political fringe groups… others. Knowledge spreads fast, and evil knowledge spreads faster. If people like that want her to forget something, you sure don't want to help her remember. It wouldn't be healthy for either you or her, Pablo."
        "I can't believe-"
        "Believe," Alex said somberly.
        "But these fugues, these sudden fears of black gloves and helmets… these would seem to indicate that her memory block is cracking. Yet the people you've mentioned wouldn't have done a half-baked job, would they? If they'd implanted a block, it would be perfect."
        Alex returned to his chair, sat, leaned forward, fixing Pablo with an intense gaze, obviously striving to impress him with the gravity of the situation. "That's what worries me most, old friend. Ordinarily, such a firmly implanted mental barrier would never weaken on its own. The people capable of doing this to your lady-friend are absolutely expert at it. They wouldn't screw up. So her recent problems, her deteriorating psychological condition, can mean only one thing."
        "Yes?"
        "The forbidden memories, the secrets buried behind this Azrael Block, are apparently so explosive, so frightening, so traumatic, that not even an expertly engineered barrier can contain them. Buried in this woman is a shocking memory of immense power, and it's straining to break out of its prison in her subconscious, into her conscious mind. These objects that trigger her blackouts - the gloves, the sink drain - are very likely elements of those repressed memories. When she fixates on one of these things, she's close to a breakthrough, trembling on the edge of remembrance. Then her program kicks in, and she blacks out."
        Pablo's heart quickened with excitement. "Then, after all, it might be possible to use hypnotic regression to probe at this Azrael Block, widen the cracks already in it, without driving her into a coma. One would have to be extremely cautious, of course, but with-"
        "You're not listening to me!" Alex said, bolting up again. He stood between their chairs, looming over Pablo, pointing one trembling finger at him. "This is incredibly dangerous. You've stumbled into something much too big for you to handle. If you help her to remember, you're going to make powerful enemies somewhere."
        "She's a sweet girl, and her life is in ruins because of this."
        "You can't help her. You're too old, and you're just one man."
        "Listen, maybe you don't understand enough of the situation. I haven't told you her name or profession, but I'll tell you now that-"
        "I don't want to know who she is!" Alex said, his eyes widening.
        "She's a physician," Pablo persisted. "Or almost. She's spent the past fourteen years training herself for medical