Past Lives

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Ignatius stood motionless while Stroud slowly injected the contents of the syringe into the subject who was already heavily sedated and couldn’t quite keep his eyelids open for more than a few seconds at a time. Although it was quiet inside the room the muted sound of religious chant came from somewhere else inside the building. It contrasted with the distant sound of a muezzin calling the Muslim faithful to prayer at the end of another long, hot day — everyday sounds of Jerusalem.

‘You can begin now,’ said Stroud.

‘Tell me your name,’ said Ignatius. His voice had a calm hypnotic quality.

‘Saul... Saul Abe.’

‘What do you do, Saul Abe?’

‘I’m... a builder.’

‘Where?’

‘In Jerusalem.’

‘What are you building?’

The question seemed to cause the man distress. He started to fight for breath.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘The... stone!’

‘What about the stone?’

‘It’s falling on my legs!’ Abe let out a scream of pain.

‘What’s happened?’ insisted the calm voice.

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