She did not need to be parading around in public looking like some sort of half-wit bobble headed sex doll “What in hell happened to you? What are y...u thinking? Are you going out like that?”She stopped at the bottom of the stairs with a large smile and pirouetted for me “You like it dad?”“Hell no I don’t like it, what is all this crap?”She wasn’t deterred by my scorn “I’m going to Rosalind’s costume party, I’m a pop singer, ‘Pinky White Diva’ pretty cool don’t you think?”“No, I don’t think, why. I received a text from her asking to meet again after work outside her work place (which is literally outside my ex's house) We spoke on the field for 15 minutes before I offered to take her back mine.When we finally got there it was already dark I was incredibly tired and just wanted to hold and talk to her whilst watching a famous American TV show. I began to fall asleep on her stomach whilst she stroked the back of my neck, suddenly I kept looking at her flat stomach, smooth legs and her. ”“Will you be there, Dao?” I had to yell as well over the sound of the engine. “Yes, but not in the party. I will take you back after party finished.”We came alongside the boat and someone offered me a hand to step up onto a gangway. Everything was a blur as I stepped onto the main deck blazing with lights. My head spun, and I steadied myself by leaning against a wall. Spotting a restroom, I staggered inside and leant on the counter to steady myself. I looked into the mirror and a woman I had. Tamara?! It was his wife, of that there was no doubt. But the images soon faded in the memory, growing muted and distant, soon lost completely. Gene in the now looked on as his early brain erased one detail after another, first of Tamara’s presence that day on the hill overlooking the factory, then of other details. Poppy’s face. He had met her in person! Then of more and more. Schematics. Conversations. Plans. The Chancellor! The man who he would later know as Victor was there in his head.