Doctor Sax gave me an expensive fix. It initially felt like your everyday screamer. He said, "You could travel through time with a time machine. With this you can travel through fantasies." It was funny to look at and even funnier to taste. You couldn’t hold it but you could taste it and each time it had different lingering after effects. Bordering on sociological cliché, I decided to traverse through the waters of childhood first. The current was too strong for my dinghy. I roared and roared with all my might but my arms were too small. Right before capsizing, the good doctor helped me wade through the stormy seas. For a brief moment there, he reminded me of good ol’ Sister Morphine. I found myself back in the room full of mirrors. He said, "Travel through your fantasies, not your memories." I tried to express how inextricably difficult it was to separate the two. It made me realize that one could escape an apocalyptic pandemic in the outside world but not one brewing inside-one constructed when this fix becomes one with your neural networks. I got transported on an alien island with a lot of unknown flora and fauna. I saw that at the shore, my boat was docked. The little dinghy had become a full-size boat, with a strong oar. The island had its attractions. There were people of diverse demeanors-wise, foolish, clever, sly, fun, boring, backstabbers, honorable fighters and so much more. They all wanted you to join them. They’d provide a social identity, the benefit of collective strength, along with all their virtues and vices. I was however like a set diagram overlapping into too many Venn diagrams-kind of like a product of everyone I’ve known, as Palahniuk would put it. Unable to find a suitable cage or a distinct uniform, I continued to explore this island, with a purple hue, walking along happy and sad roads alike. I came across like-minded individuals, not yet co-opted by the machinations of the island. Together we formed our very own geographically absent island. The island, through your everyday spectacles, looked pretty regular but it was radically different when you were on the fix. For the doctor, silence was the primary language and unlike me, he did not care much for music. Time was non-linear when I was on that island so I cannot account for my total time spent there. When I completed a full circle of the island, I saw my boat had transformed into a sturdy ship with enough space for my crew. We decided to set sail for something geographically definite-not an island, but for the mountains. I am yet to experience what happens when the fix wears down, so don’t ask me. If you’re curious, you could always contact Jackie.