Jay had blakouts now for many years – ever since the accident. He would forget things too – be watching a movie and half-way through he couldn’t remember what he was watching. He knew where he came from though – an old stock French family – long since transplanted to New Brunswick because of his father’s job running a major part of the CN railroad.
Jay had been a computer whiz before the accident – able to network together the diverse hardware cast-offs his small town in New Brunswick had managed to snag from the seeming far off metropolises of Montreal, Boston, and other places – in fact his small town was located near one of the premier tech dumping grounds – a pit stop before the piles of mother boards, chips, half-destroyed cell phones would accumulate before being recycled for rare earth minerals and scraps in some godforsaken – even much more polluted dumps – for this was the chief industry now off in Mexico, places in Africa, and South East Asia – but for Jay, for then, the pickings were good.
And his very unconventional way of stringing the parts together turned heads all over New Brunswick – and are what led to the accident.