Remember (21 page)

"It is a pleasure to meet you two."
It feels strange and somewhat uncomfortable seeing Gary’s world, it's a little too perfect.

"Have any of you heard from David?" Gary asks.

"He just called me. He's running a little bit late," Sarah answers.

"Sure, we have plenty of time. How is life going?" Gary asks.

"Nothing I can't handle," Sarah answers. Confidence and bravado come off Mulligan in waves.

"Good. No problems," Sanathy replies.

"I'm just a little exhausted, with the long, arduous journey."
That could have been sarcastic, if I tried harder.
The hot lights mix with the cool air blowing through the window at my back.

"I didn't think a 2 hour trip was that hard to complete," Gary says.

"What do you two do?"

"I'm in adverts for Technovation," Veena says.

Ad biz with such a terse response?
"That sounds interesting. What are you currently working on?"

"Yes it is. The latest is for micro-tech. I'm sure you have worked with it in research."

What question did she say yes to?
"Yes, Gary's study uses regular tech for a similar case."

"Yes. Conor has been shadowing me with my latest study. You know, about dream collection and interpretation," Gary adds.

I slip off my jacket finally overcome by the heat.

"That is one possible use for micro-tech," the advertiser says.

"You've finally arrived, David," Gary says suddenly, content for some odd reason.

David takes a seat besides Sarah. "Come on, it's only 5 minutes." David stares at someone new, me.

"I'm Conor Abby."

"Hi. David Walcott." Walcott extends his hand across to me awkwardly avoiding the intervening glass, which I then shake.

"Are we ready to order?" Sanathy asks.

"Sure, if we all are in agreement." David continues looking around for dissent. His fawn colored hair forms whorls across his head, interlinked and scattering at the edge.

We start looking over the menus (pads for everyone). Each dish appears with a few sides. I'm unsure what to order. I try looking through the options. Everyone else ordered something already through an inset glass ring around the unclothed table. I meander, still looking. They engage in polite convo amongst themselves. I choose something and put down the menu. We start sending our orders. Most of them ventured into similar things. I decide to order the exact same thing as someone else. No escape from what I have just ordered, better or worse.

"I just can't believe how much tech affects our lives," Gary comments.

"Yes, so many uses. I can't even imagine how it would be without it."

Walcott gives another example. "Take my job, for example. Modifying DNA would be much more difficult."

"What do you do, David?"

"I'm a geneticist. I meet with people that have genetic disease and work on repairing the error. Before the numerous tech innovations, viruses where the best option," he answers.

"We sure have come a long way from caveman times," Sarah says snapping back from wonder gazing.

"David, how many people do you treat, normally?" Gary inquiries.

"I've never had more than two or three at a time. We like to joke about how the changes we make last more than a few lifetimes,” David replies.

I laugh out of politeness while everyone else nods knowingly. This discussion rambles on solely for the newcomer, me.

"It is surprising that some small changes can have such a big impact. The fact is a miniscule percentage of DNA is different among totally different people," Walcott continues.

"Those are the facts, when it comes to the fragility of life," Gary says relieved that topic is dead and buried.

"Anyway, enough about my career. How are you guys doing?" The young geneticist gazes around to everyone.

"I forgot to give you this mp," Mulligan says. She gives Walcott a sticker, a memory patch of our convo so far. Did I imagine Sarah's hair flash crimson? Must have. Trading mp’s reveals a close connection between those two.

"The food is here."

A waiter comes with a big tray. Three of us get plates. Soon, he comes back with another tray for me and Gary. We start eating. I get chunks of heavily seasoned vegetables, chutneys of the savory variety, multilayered broths, and fluffy, airy bread. I start eating by hand with everyone else (watching Irena at lunch helps). Everything has a complex taste, all savory containing hints of the unknown. Not to mention the heat, which varies.

“Do any of you guys think I should get a go-seat?" David asks with minimal expectations. The speed of answer and response changes to something manageable under the chewing and swallowing.

Sanathy answers with a wondering expression. "Why do you want one anyway? Can't you just borrow one from your apartment?"

"I would, it is just that the apartment doesn't have enough. I can't find one when I need to go somewhere. Hence, being late," Walcott replies.

My mind forces a whiny note to his voice. A brief quietness overtakes the talking as everyone chews together.

“I personally think you should get one," Gary says.

"Not everyone hails from a high socioeconomic class, such as you," Veena counters.

"You all know my dad makes me earn it. You should also know, he has cut me off," Gary responds.

"Calm down, I'm just pulling your leg." A simile lights up Sanathy's face.

"I think you should work the system. If you send in enough complaints, you will probably get one," Sarah suggests.

"You are just saying that because you are part of that system. I've written it up two times, already," Walcott infers in my mind. Their discussions echo something from back home.

"Actually, I'm one of the many checks integral to one of the governments many systems," Mulligan adds.

"We are in agreement. You should look at the options more," Gary concludes. He stamps out the oncoming argument.

"What do you do for the government, anyway, Sarah?"

"I'm in truth verification. After a suspect's conviction, they undergo a memory wipe. I make sure they truthfully utter what they remember during memory reconstruction," Sarah answers.

"That makes some sense, if you think about it. Memories can't be truly erased. The pathways connecting with the stored info are just cutoff. The reconstruction helps connect the damaged paths," Gary adds. The dialogue livens up as the eating reaches an end.

"I think career lawbreakers are still able to hide some info. My job is to prevent it," truth verification specialist says.

"You have a consuming job."

"It's more routine than you might think.”

The waiter comes by, takes our empty plates, leaves behind the bill, and a small dish. Each of us takes a handful of the mixture inside, fennel seed mixed with small candies. It replaces all the tastes in my mouth with something refreshing and floral.

We collectively pass the bill around. Each person pays with collected meals. I get 3.2 meals per day. I've plenty to pay 1.5 meals for a dinner out.

"Is it okay for me to jet? It has been fun, we should do this again sometime," Sanathy says.

"Me too." David squeezes Sarah’s shoulder and leaves with Sanathy.

"Hey guys. Do you mind if I pick your brains about something," The bureaucrat says to Gary and me.

"Sure," Gary says.

"Not a problem."

"I just have a quick question. Is it possible to check the success of a memory wipe?" Mulligan asks unmoving.

"As far as I know, it's possible. Why, are you having doubts?" Gary replies with his own question.

"The person I'm working with keeps hiding the truth. This is his first offense. It just shouldn't be happening," Sarah answers, looking away from us to the neighboring window.

"I can send you the details on how to check if the wipe worked. I'll also review the wipe methodology and see if it can be goofed up," Gary proposes placing his placid hands over the table.

"I have some questions for you, Sarah, if that is okay."

"Shoot." Resounds with a fragment of annoyance.

"I've been wondering about the wipe and recovery process. What is the purpose?"

"I think it has to do with wrongful conviction. It happens a miniscule percentage of the time, but when it does… pretty bad. First, a second innocent person is punished. Also, the real perpetrator receives the freedom to commit more acts," Mulligan replies matter-of-factly.

"If it is so useful, why is it done after conviction? Doing it before makes more sense."

"Going through the memory wipe is rigorous. It shouldn't be undertaken without exhausting all the other options first. As it turns out, most of the people in the program ask to enter," Sarah responds woefully.

"It is ingenious. You give an easy way to prove innocence. This lures convicts to prove their guilt, nearly always."

"Thanks for your time, Gary, Conor."

"See you around, Sarah."

"It was fun." Sarah flashes a smile.

Tues 6/13/17 10:17 a.m.

B
rain wave diagrams of each sleep stage appear grossly enlarged at my back. "Dreaming happens during all five stages of sleep. Until now, a complete record evaded the grasp of science. A scattered and truncated account establishes the majority of dream theory.

The limited record stems from interrupted sleep. Awakening during the dream phase triggers memory of the dream, usually accompanied by quick loss of detail. The intensity of dreams increase in deeper stages of sleep. The chance of waking up responds inversely."

A series of negative dreams we saw during our study comprises the next visual, all stills. "The REM sleep state was associated with negative dreams based on incomplete data. Prior studies infer about the dream state from ideas established in an awakened state. After sleep grogginess, tends to be the biggest promoter of these ideas.

Dreaming is known to have a measurable impact on other aspects of life."

(—)

"The dreams accumulate for a total of 30 days. Three AIs, my colleague, and I view each dream. Any available memory record enters our consensus. We arrive at an overall impression, positive or negative." Gary says.

The next picture is a chart showing all the data and a close up. "The study concludes that most REM dreams are positive overall. The percentage remembered tends to be skewed to the negative," Gary finishes.

We head off the stage, congratulating each other on a job well done and land in our seats as the next presentation gets started. How energy production methods vary in their sustainability? They modeled the two competing methods of energy creation: solar and nuclear fusion.

(—)

I rush around in a flurry eating up the remaining 10 minutes before the bus arrives. Rifling through my bags verifies if I have everything. One drawer needs empting, which I now shovel into my suitcase. I run out the door, lug along my suitcase, enter the elevator, and jog to the lobby. I meet up with Gary at the entrance just as the green bus pulls out.

Nothing ends up right. I struggled every step of the way, waking up already late. Tomorrow, my study subjects arrive. I can't let this happen. My thoughts circle back, too late.

Gary approaches with a worried forehead. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine."

He smiles. "Don't worry about it. We can always just take a go-seat."

"I didn't think about that."

Gary calls up a go-seat with his tech, I repeat. Two roll out of the closet. A second leg drops, supporting the single big ball wheel. We load our luggage onto the hooks at the back. I climb up the seat with the handy step.

"Don't forget to set the destination and arrival time."

"Just about to do that." I enter the info. It shows a start button. I select go. A footrest swivels around to under my feet. The go-seat glides through the doorway. It grows taller and faster once on the road. The ride runs surprisingly smooth.

Gary comes up next to me. "How are you doing?"

"Still fine."

His seat swivels towards me. "Good to hear. You just had a dejected look on your face."

"Nothing was going right. Hopefully, things get better."

"I’m sure it will."

Before we know it, we reach the destination. We get off with all our baggage, scurry up the station steps — among a multitude of passengers — dropping off our bags and suitcases, board the train, and take a seat. The bad luck turned. Good. I read through the list of people joining my study and start scheduling times to do the subject prep.

Thurs 6/15/17 6:17 a.m.

I
enter a room engulfed in white tile. Dark gray streams of concrete stand still solidified within the field, ripples and all. Four pictures adorn the entirety of four walls. One in a clear glass frame profiles a fjord revealing its depth and security. The one in the steel frame depicts a temperate rainforest abundant in tall trees and carpeted by lush fern undergrowth. A picture of a glacial lake framed with mountains stands at my back, dominating a light wood frame. The blue water enters the spider-webbed fissures and crevasses inherent to the white and blue bespectacled glacier. The last one presents a steep mountain top, the sheer cliffs allowing just a tenuous foothold for the resident snows. The frame consists of the igneous glass mineral, obsidian. In the center of the space, a reflective, metal, human-esque sculpture floats up. I go to it. Upon a touch, it transforms into a grey padded body suit. The intricate stitching featuring a zipper that moves down the side of the neck, runs over the shoulder, across the torso, and down one leg — both sides identical.

I slip the suit on, zip up the sleeves. It fits perfectly. My hand now shows a contorted reflection through to the floor below. The entire room alienates with a somber metallic sheen, and the pictures morph to perfect mirrors. I try to look at myself, just to see the opposite wall. Moving closer and closer changes nothing. I reach out and see a ripple in the reflection. The truth of my invisibility dawns on me.