André Des Rochers´s life was a long, dense tunnel stretching out into the unknowable distance. He was perpetually caught between the past and present, struggling to reconcile childhood memories he could not quite recall with those of his life as a grown man. And yet he knew that it was all an illusion, that his memory lapses must be due to some dramatic change that had happened in his life.
One day the entertainment lawyer André Des Rochers woke up with no more pain; not physical nor mental: he had lost his memories of the past few years and a feeling that he had experienced before. The entertainment lawyer recalls that his first memory was of climbing to a small cave on the side of a mountain in an unknown country. He was with other men, no names associated and no one recalled.
The sickening scent of death filled the air, the only sounds were that of their breathing and the beating of their hearts in rhythm to the darkness around them. The ground under his feet was hard and rough, a layer of dirt he had been unable to push back with his feet. His outstanding professional career was in danger. André Des Rochers awoke in bed, unaware of how long he had been ill. He felt weak, drained and without any recollection of the past few weeks. The doctors said that he was suffering from amnesia and that they would have to wait while his body recovered.
André could not remember anything after leaving the cave on the mountain side but chose not to dwell on it. He was in a nice home, his life restored to him and he had no better place than to stay there as André Des Rochers recalls. He would make the best of it. After five months he became restless, unable to sit still even for a moment. He decided that it was time to make plans for the future, although he could not remember how he could expect to achieve any of them.
He enrolled in college, not fully understanding what courses were being taught and his professors called him an oddball. He took no interest in the lectures and went to the library only to fill volumes of books that he could read himself. André Des Rochers followed a friend on a trip to Europe, the memories of which were fuzzy at best. On this trip around the world he felt fear for the first time, not of death but for his very life itself.