Chapter 4.
The screen went blank; then the browser screen came back up.
Aaron sat there, trying to sort out all the information he had just been bombarded with. All of what he had just heard made perfect sense. What surprised him most was that he was taking it so well. Restoring a memory, (a complete memory!) was an enormous undertaking . . . wasn’t it? Well, there was nothing for it. He was dealing with it pretty well, he thought.
He typed in the two words, and there it was . . . a dark blue screen with the prompt he had just told himself about. (?!) When he clicked ‘exit,’ the browser screen came back again. Just to experiment, he typed the word ‘music.’ Up popped the familiar list of sites anyone would see. He backed out to the browser and typed IT’S TIME. There was the blue screen again. This time when he typed MUSIC, two prompts came up:
Listen
Exit
He clicked ‘Listen’ and was suddenly awash in the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. Almost immediately he felt as though he was floating, careless, in a place foreign but vaguely familiar. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling carry him away. Too soon this beautiful music began to fade. When it was finally completely gone, he opened his eyes, feeling refreshed and relaxed. The room was dark. He was slumped in his chair, one arm dangling at his side. His cat was curled up in his lap. Apparently he had been “out” for some time.
Feeling refreshed and invigorated, he straightened up in his chair and looked at the screen. The browser had replaced the blue screen. He typed IT’S TIME, and again the blue one reappeared. He typed ‘music’ again. But this time he kept his eyes open, watching the screen. Another set of prompts appeared as the first two faded out. No music followed.
Recall
Add New
Exit
He clicked Recall. A list of unfamiliar titles appeared, filling the page with 4 columns. He scrolled down through what seemed to be an endless list, finally coming to the last page, which was only partially filled. The last entry was just a line with no title. When he clicked it a blank document appeared. Out of curiosity, he typed, “What’s going on” and clicked the ‘transmit’ button in the top left corner of the tool bar. Almost immediately, the cursor disappeared and a female face appeared.
“Welcome back! Are you feeling better? It’s been a long time.”
Startled, Aaron typed, “Who are you?”
“I’m Asha. You’re not fully yourself yet, are you?”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” He said aloud. Then remembering, he began typing. Before he had made two keystrokes, the face on the screen responded.
“You can type if you wish, but it isn’t really necessary. The program recognizes your voice patterns. Maybe you ought to spend some more time reading in your archives. They’ll help you get back up to speed. Then when you feel up to it, give me a call. OK?”
The face on the screen disappeared and the 4 columns reappeared, just as he had left them. He clicked on the blank line and said, “Are you there?” No response. He tried typing instead, “I’m ready now.” No response. He tried again. Again, no response. Just the blue screen.
Sitting there in confused silence, he tried to absorb what had just happened. He felt overwhelmed and somewhat frightened. Then an idea popped into his head. He checked his watch, and then said aloud, ‘music.’
Immediately his mind was filled with those beautiful sounds. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. When he felt like he had become more relaxed, he opened his eyes. There were the three prompts.
Recall
Add New
Exit
He clicked Exit, and then checked his watch. Only a few minutes had passed. So, he did have control! He wasn’t totally at the mercy of the program. The music had been mesmerizing the first time he accessed it, and he had allowed it to carry him away. Apparently there was some sort of power present that had influence over him if he chose to allow it. But if he chose not to, somehow the program knew it, and closed.
“Who’s this Asha person?” He said to myself as he sat there motionless in front of the screen. “And what was this about an archive?” Then it dawned on him; that’s where he was now! He was back at the blank document. “Anybody there?” He said aloud. The words appeared there on the line.
He waited for some sort of response, but nothing came. The tool bar at the top of the screen read ARCHIVE-NEW DOCUMENT. Of course there wouldn’t be a response. He was at the wrong place in the computer. He closed the document without saving and returned to the blue screen. He said “anybody there” again. The face of this Asha person reappeared.
“That was quick. What’s on your mind?” she said.
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? And who are you?”
“Look, Broc. . . .”
“That’s my last name! My first name’s Aaron! What’s going on?” Aaron demanded.
“OK. Settle down for a second. It’s obvious you’re not up to speed yet. It’d be easier for both of us if you’d just go to your archives and read the last few entries. Since you wrote them, they’d make more sense to you than if I tried to explain what you’re going through right now.”
“Why didn’t you answer the last time I called?”
“There’s a sub-routine in the program that won’t allow it. If you or anyone else tries to exit the program and then re-enter within a specified amount of time, it locks you out. It’s a sort of fail-safe routine that you created.
“I created?”
“Yes. You really need to do some review, Broc. I can tell you’re really distraught right now. Just go to your archive and read for a while. That’ll do you a world of good.”
“OK. But first . . .”
“Look. You’re only getting yourself all worked up, and it isn’t helping. Please trust me on this. You’ve been through this many times before. If you’ll just review what you’ve read, it’ll really make you feel better. I’m going to leave you alone for a while so you can work this out on your own. OK? Talk to you later.”
Her face disappeared and the ARCHIVE screen reappeared. Aaron tried several more times to reconnect, but nothing happened. Finally giving in, he pulled up the archive screen, scrolled down to the last page, and clicked on the last archive entry: