As days went on, his observations of his "Crown time" became short experiments. He filmed himself when he wore it. And also, if he wandered off-screen, he kept a recording device in his coat pocket. It was on constantly, in case he had an episode without the crown on.
Every night, he would also keep a log of what was happening when he wasn't wearing the crown. He would write down whether or not he had an "episode", if anything was changing, everything.
He had to know of everything that was happening to him.
He began feeling stressed and looked for some form of entertainment beyond the TV.
He did love music.
He went down to the store and picked up a keyboard. He began singing and writing music. It was fun and helped him relax. But he felt he needed something else to let out his anger on. With his car, he picked up a drum set.
He had no idea how to use any of it though.
A quick search on his computer resulted in video recordings of lessons for how to play the drums. Or "skins and tubs" as some people called them.
That certainly helped.
A week passed. The phone rang.
"Betty? My princess?" He asked, picking it up. There was nobody on the other line. It was just a recording saying that his phone bill was due. He hung it up without a second thought. About an hour after that call, he remembered that he forgot to pay the phone bill.
When did get forget that again?
"I need more than just video footage and my journal." Simon muttered, coming home one day with a scrapbook. For several days, he filled the pages of it with his past. Newspaper clippings, pictures taken, notes written, everything had to go into the book.
He also made sure to take a picture of him as he currently was, for the record.
He opened a notebook and began writing at night.
"Day thirty, one month wearing the crown," he said as he wrote. He paused. A vision forced its way into his mind. He saw planes flying, colliding, and dropping bombs that made mushroom clouds. When the vision ended, he gasped for breath. Brief shadows of spirits floated in front of his eyes. He shook his head.
"Visions are getting stronger." He said, "But they all have the same ending. Mushroom clouds everywhere. And I am writing this when I am not wearing the crown. I had an episode Monday. I got into a fight with somebody. My face still feels sore." He paused and reached over for a thermometer. "In one vision, I noticed a date. It will be coming next month, but I didn't know what day. My hair is beginning to change color as well, turning a lighter shade of brown. The world feels warmer, slightly. My temperature..." He put the thermometer in his mouth and waited. When he heard it beep, he looked at the result.
"What?" He asked. He tried it again, but got the same result. He sighed and wrote it down.
"My temperature has begun to decrease. It is now 32.3 degrees Celsius. Gunther is still alive and well." Simon wrote.
"Wear me..." Came a low whisper. Simon looked at the crown sitting on the coffee table. Gunther hid beneath it.
"Wear me Simon... You need me..." The crown whispered
"I must go now. The crown has something to say." He ended his journal and put the crown on.
It kept saying that the power of the ice and frost will save him, but Simon didn't know what it meant, really. Did it have something to do with his temperature dropping?
The crown was changing him physically, yes, but how deep did it go?
A couple times after wearing the crown, he felt a kind of... A kind of power, within him. It was like he felt a frosty wind within him bursting to get out. But he would play on his keyboard or drums and push the feeling away.
Gunther rolled his ball against Simons's leg to get his attention. This night, it was one of the few times he succeeded, without being scolded for it.
"What is it boy?" He asked. Gunther led him to his food. It was running low.
"I'll get you more food tomorrow." He sighed. "Right now, I need to talk to the crown."
Gunther was more worried for his master and friend now than he ever was. He repeated himself from yesterday after he showed him his food.
"Maybe I should write that down to remind myself." Simon said. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and wrote the message down and put it on the kitchen counter.
There, he found two more messages.
"Get Gunther food" was written on both of them. Simon stared at them in shock.
"I... I don't remember writing these." He said. He ran to his journal and recorded this new discovery.
"My memory is failing. I need this journal and my scrapbook now more than ever." He wrote, "I need it in case I forget everything. And I have a hunch, eventually I will."