Memory exhaled. He looked over at the filing cabinet and was glad that he had been so organised. He was now left with the task of pulling the most significant files from the cabinet and remembering in precise detail. He also had very abstract direction from the artistic director, standing over his shoulder with the Tippex, forcing him to change or add to or fabricate certain sections of certain pages. Logic sat in the corner and played with a Rubik's cube. Memory glanced at Logic when the artistic director wasn't looking, a look that silently portrayed righteousness, the kind of look that...