It felt like a gargantuan achievement – I’m someone who regularly forgets the most important item on a shopping list

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There’s a scene from the 2010s series Sherlock that I think about a lot. Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) visits his “mind palace” to figure out how he and his friend/minion John Watson (Martin Freeman) got drugged. Words, phrases and images float around his head, and he moves them around with his hands.

“It’s a memory technique,” Watson explains to a confused onlooker. “You plot a map of a location – it doesn’t have to be a real place – and then you deposit memories there.” Theoretically, he says, you can never forget anything, he says: “All you have to do is find your way back to it.”

Can one really relax while being prodded by large robotic arms?

I am alone in a dimly lit room, splayed face down on a table. Megan Thee Stallion’s Mamushi is bumping from a speaker, and on a large screen, two white circles roam up and down an outline of my body.

Am I at an exclusive German sex club at 2am?