Unremembered

  Zen shuts his eyes and rubs his face. When his eyes open again, I see that they’re tormented and bloodshot.

  ‘You thought you had friends,’ he clarifies. ‘You thought you had a whole life outside of the compound. With family and birthday parties and shopping sprees at the mall. But none of it was real. It was all fake.’

  ‘Fake?’ I repeat dubiously. ‘How do you fake friends?’

  ‘By implanting artificial memories of them into your brain.’

  I shake my head, refusing to believe it. ‘No. I would be able to tell the difference.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ he says. ‘You can’t. No one can. They have computer programs that can generate such flawless memories that the brain can’t differentiate them from the real ones. They fill your mind with these happy, comforting experiences that blend right in like they belong there. It’s all the same to you. Once the memory has been uploaded, whether or not it really happened is irrelevant. Your brain thinks it did.’

  I feel hot tears pricking my eyes. ‘I just don’t understand why anyone would do that,’ I choke out. ‘Why would they need to implant happy memories in my brain?’

  ‘To replace the unpleasant ones,’ Zen replies darkly. ‘It was part of a grand illusion. To hide the fact that you were actually a prisoner. They decorated your cell to look like a real house, they crammed your head full of bogus memories. All so they could continue to do whatever horrendous things they were doing to you and you would never even know. Because you could never remember.’

  My head is starting to throb. I stand up and pace the floor. Counting the tiles. The tables. The chairs. But it’s pointless. Nothing alleviates this sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘What kind of horrendous things?’ I’m finally able to ask.

  ‘That I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘Although I’ve assumed it had to be pretty bad if Diotech went to so much trouble to cover it up. We were never able to figure it out because every time they took you from the house, you came back with a memory of something blissful and benign. A trip to the beach. A sleepover at a friend’s house. Always these perfect little excursions.’

  My feet slow to a halt. Something is happening. His words must have triggered some kind of reaction because I can feel another memory forming.

  I look anxiously towards the hard drive, wondering what horrors it has in store for me now. Wondering if I can even cope with whatever it’s about to show me when I can barely handle what I’ve already seen.

  I reach up towards the sides of my face, ready to rip the rubber discs from my skin. But it’s too late. The images have already infiltrated my brain. They’ve already started their dizzying chaotic loops.

  My hands fall limp at my sides as I surrender.

  I close my eyes and let go. Because I don’t have a choice.

  ‘Do you have to leave so soon?’

  I recognize my own voice. I’m speaking to someone.

  I glance up to see him. Rio. Standing by the front door.

  My front door.

  It’s the same living room.

  The same house.

  He nods solemnly. ‘Yes. I’m sorry, Sera. But I have to get back to work.’ He raises his finger to the white plate on the wall. The electronic door beeps.

  ‘When will you be home?’ I ask.

  Home.

  The word yanks me out.

  Did he live with me?

  In the barn he told me that I was his greatest creation. Does that mean he’s my . . .

  But I can’t bring myself to think it.

  Instead I remind myself what Zen said. It was all a manipulation. A lie. None of it was real.

  ‘I’ll be back in a few hours,’ Rio replies. But he doesn’t leave right away. He lingers by the door, hesitating, before turning back slowly and asking, ‘Did you have fun today?’ His voice is light and cheerful but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t match.

  Regret?

  Sorrow?

  Remorse?

  Guilt.

  The girl in the memory was the one who asked the question but now I’m the one who answers it. I didn’t recognize it back then when I was standing in that living room. I didn’t have the right frame of reference. But now I do. Because I’ve been haunted by that very same emotion. And it leaves a mark.

  A mark that looks like that.

  ‘Yes!’ I say, swooning slightly. ‘It was a perfect day.’

  He smiles. A sad, tired smile that almost looks like something else entirely. ‘Good. I’m glad.’

  The room fades to white.

  I keep my eyes closed. Even though I know it’s over. I can’t face reality yet. I’m not sure I even know what that is any more.

  ‘A perfect day.’

  That was my response.

  Exactly as Zen described.

  But Rio wasn’t really asking me about my day. He was asking if I believed the lie. He was making sure the memory implant was a success.

  My eyes snap open and land directly on the door. The muscles in my legs explode with fire. I heed their request and break for the door, crossing the room in a blur.

  I can’t stay here another minute.

  Zen leaps from his chair but doesn’t attempt to chase after me. I think he knows he’ll never be able to keep up. Instead he tries to apprehend me with his words.

  ‘Sera. Please. Don’t.’

  It works. The anguish in his voice brings me to a stop just short of the door.

  ‘You can’t keep running away every time you’re afraid,’ he cautions me. ‘At some point you have to stay and fight for what you know is right.’

  I stare longingly at the door handle, my fingers twitching. My whole body screaming.

  ‘I stole these memories from Diotech so that I could show you. So you could see it for yourself. Because I need you to trust me. And I knew you wouldn’t believe me any other way.’ His voice cracks, but the intensity never breaks. ‘Sera, please,’ he implores. ‘I need you back on my side.’

  Despite every impulse that’s urging me out that door, I turn and glance back, moisture pooling on the surface of my eyes.

  ‘I know how hard it is for you to hear all of this,’ Zen continues, ‘because I’ve watched you learn the truth before. When we discovered it together. But we had more time then. To let it sink in. We don’t have that luxury now. They’re coming for you. They won’t stop until they find you. And they will take you back there.’

  The first tear leaks out, tracing a crooked line down my cheek. ‘Was none of my life real?’ I whisper.

  He exhales, his shoulders falling. ‘I was real,’ he says.

  He takes one step towards me. Then another. Moving slowly as though he was approaching a frightened injured animal in the woods. And I guess that’s what I must look like right now. It’s certainly how I feel.

  He stops only inches away. Then he reaches out and cups my locket in his hand.

  ‘That’s why I put the pebble in here,’ he says. ‘So if you were ever in doubt, you could touch it and feel it and know that what we had was never fake. It was never generated by a computer and implanted in your brain. It was always real.’

  I begin to shiver. It starts out small. A delicate tremble. But then it grows. Stronger and harder, until I’m shaking violently. My teeth chattering. My body convulsing.

  Zen runs to the makeshift bed in the centre of the classroom and returns with the blanket. As soon as he wraps it around me, I crumple. Every muscle from my head to my feet giving out one by one, like a chain reaction.

  Zen catches me just before I hit the floor. Then, in one fluid motion, he drapes my limp hand around the back of his neck, bends down and, with his elbow tucked under my knees, scoops me effortlessly into his arms.

  My head sags against his chest as he carries me back to the foam pad on the floor and lowers me to it. I collapse on my side, my legs rejoicing and my head sinking eagerly into the pillow. It’s only now that I realize how tired I am.

  I pe
er up at the clock on the wall. It’s 3:42 in the morning.

  ‘What about my mother?’ I utter dazedly. My voice strangled. ‘Did I ever meet her?’

  Zen walks back to the table and switches off the hard drive. From here I can see the soft green glow dim and finally extinguish. ‘You thought you did.’

  ‘Did I even have one?’

  ‘Not like the one you remembered. She was a figment just like the rest of them. But as for a real mother –’ he shakes his head forlornly – ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘And Rio. Is he . . . was he my father?’

  This time, I manage to get the word out.

  Zen’s fists clench into balls and I can see him eyeing the gun on the table. ‘That man is not your father,’ he growls.

  ‘But he lived with me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he concedes. ‘But he was also the one who was controlling your mind. He is not to be trusted under any circumstances.’

  I think about the person I saw in the barn. When I looked into his placid greenish-grey eyes, I saw something there. Something I couldn’t pinpoint. But it made me want to protect him from harm.

  Was that just residue from a series of fabricated memories?

  Or was it something real?

  I wonder if I’ll ever know.

  Despite the warm blanket around me, my whole body has turned numb. But at least I’ve stopped shivering.

  ‘Zen?’ I ask softly.

  He sits down on the floor next to my head. ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘If so many of my memories weren’t real, how do I know I can even trust the ones you showed me?’

  He pulls his knees to his chest and clasps his hands around his ankles. ‘You can’t,’ he admits. ‘You can’t trust any memories. They’re too easily manipulated. You can only trust what you feel. What you know to be true.’

  ‘But,’ I protest, desperation seeping in, ‘what if I don’t—’

  ‘Shh,’ he says. ‘A part of you will always know. You just have to figure out which part to listen to.’

  He scoots in closer and begins to run his fingers through my hair.

  His presence has a calming effect on me. And I’m grateful that he’s here. That he’s the one telling me all of this. Even though I know how much it pains him to do it. He’s like a shield that I’m able to place between myself and the truth. Softening the blow to some extent. Absorbing a tiny fraction of the impact. Making it just the slightest bit less horrible.

  And now I understand why I called him Zen.

  I can feel my eyelids start to sag. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

  ‘Don’t fight it, Sera,’ he tells me. ‘Sleep. I’ll stay up.’

  But I’m afraid of the silence. Afraid of the thoughts it will bring. And of the memories that I, ironically, once longed for more than anything.

  ‘Keep talking,’ I slur through drooping lips.

  He chuckles. ‘What do you want me to talk about?’

  ‘Tell me more about the locket,’ I say.

  ‘I had it especially designed for you.’ I can hear the wistfulness in his voice. ‘You always loved that symbol. The eternal knot. You said it looked like two intertwined hearts. Forever connected. Forever linked.’

  ‘How many times did I forget you?’ My voice is hoarse and barely audible.

  He sighs. ‘Too many to count.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I offer weakly.

  But he laughs again. ‘It’s not your fault.’ I can hear the soft rustle of his fingers running through my hair. ‘Besides, the joke was on them. Because I was never really gone.’

  I nod weakly into the pillow.

  I want to tell him that I understand. That I’m starting to get it. That I think maybe he’s always been there. Lingering somewhere inside of me. Clinging desperately.

  Revealing himself in subtle ways that I just couldn’t understand.

  Even though I still don’t remember any of the details he’s told me, I feel the shadows of our past together. It continues to run through my veins. It echoes in his laugh. It’s reflected in his eyes.

  Reminding me that I’m safe here. With him.

  Like clues left behind for me to find. Clues that somehow made their mark in permanent ink.

  Perhaps some things simply can’t be erased.

  He bends down and whispers softly in my ear, ‘Are you asleep?’

  ‘No,’ I murmur.

  ‘I want to try something.’

  He gently places two fingertips against my forehead, directly above the bridge of my nose.

  Instantly the skin between my eyes flares with a soothing white heat. Exactly like it did when I saw him outside the hospital. And in the parking lot of the supermarket. Except this time it’s even hotter. It runs deeper. More intense than it’s ever been before.

  And then, in a flash, I know why.

  A memory comes pouring in.

  I open my eyes just long enough to see the tiny silver cube sitting on the table above us. No longer lit up. No longer transmitting a signal. Off.

  Which means this memory isn’t coming from a stolen hard drive. It’s coming from me. From somewhere within. Where it’s been hiding this whole time. Waiting.

  The midday sun is bright in the sky. Shining down on us. Illuminating my tiny world.

  A world that has gotten infinitely bigger since he entered it.

  Zen and I lie together on the small patch of grass that makes up my front lawn. I’m on my back and he’s pressed up against my side, his arm draped over my stomach. The sunlight warming our faces.

  The air is quiet. We’re alone.

  It’s my favourite place to be.

  Alone. With him.

  But I know it won’t last for long. It never does.

  ‘What if they erase you again?’ I ask. My voice trembles with fear.

  I know the truth. About how they’ve been the ones choosing what I remember. And what I forget.

  It terrifies me.

  And I don’t know what to do next.

  Zen shifts beside me and props himself up on his elbow. I can see my own eyes reflected in his. Like two mirrors bouncing light off each other for eternity.

  ‘They haven’t been able to completely erase me yet.’

  ‘But they’ve tried,’ I point out. ‘What if they try again? What if the next time they succeed?’

  ‘We’ll just have to come up with a sign,’ he suggests, flashing me that playful, lopsided grin I’ve come to love so much.

  ‘What kind of sign?’

  ‘Something that they can’t take away.’

  I feel the tears stinging my eyes. The truth kills me a little more every minute. ‘But they can take anything away,’ I cry. ‘Anything they want. Whenever they want.’

  But Zen simply smiles, shakes his head, and reaches out to touch my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘They can’t take everything.’ One tear manages to break free from my eye and he catches it on the tip of his finger. ‘They can’t take away a feeling. They can’t take this.’

  Then he presses two fingers to my forehead. I close my eyes and absorb the heat from his skin, letting it sink in. Deep in. Past my mind. Past my overactive, calculating brain. Past my subconscious. Into the place where moments like this live.

  Forever.

  He leans forward and replaces his fingertips with his lips. The switch is so fluid I never feel the break. The heat never cools.

  Then his lips move to meet mine. I anticipate them. I crave them. Our mouths meld together. Our two separate breaths become one inhale and one exhale. I lose myself. I lose time.

  When he pulls away, he locks on to my eyes again. ‘Now,’ he tells me, gently stroking my hair, ‘whenever I touch your forehead you’ll remember this moment. Or at the very least, you’ll remember that there once was a moment. And that it was perfect.’

  A peaceful aura settles around me. It blocks out every noise. Every sensation. Except the feeling of Zen’s touch. I burrow deeper under the blanket and reach u
p to clasp his hand in mine. I pull it down and tuck it between my arms, close to my heart, squeezing it tightly to my chest.

  ‘Do you remember?’ he asks, leaning in and pressing his lips to my cheek.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘Always yes.’

  PART 3

  THE SURRENDER

  29

  AIR

  I’m on a beach. I watch three faceless figures play in the water. Swimming further and further away. They call to me.

  ‘Sera! Come on!’

  But I don’t go to them. Despite the fact that they are my best friends.

  I just watch as they get smaller and smaller.

  A giant wave crashes down, sucking all three of them into its powerful undertow. One of them manages to surface and scream. But her voice is quickly snubbed out by the sound of water. She struggles against the current but it’s merciless. Whipping her this way and that. Never letting up. Never surrendering.

  She is no match. And I watch her go down again.

  I jump to my feet and run towards the water, bracing myself against the cold as another large wave buries my feet. I dive headfirst under the next one, the horizon disappearing in a flash of blue.

  I am submerged now. Paddling hard. Frantically.

  I open my eyes.

  I can see everything clearly. The seaweed. The coral blowing in an underwater breeze. A small school of sand-coloured fish.

  Their perfect harmonious formation breaks and they scatter as I swim through them, searching for my friends.

  I can still hear their screams.

  Even down here.

  My hair swirls around my head, blocking my view. I push it back and search harder. They have to be here somewhere!

  But they are nowhere. Vanished. Swallowed by the ocean.

  I see light above me. It’s an unusual colour. Not yellow like the sun. But fluorescent white.

  I swim towards it, feeling my lungs slowly contracting.

  I need to breathe.

  My arm reaches up to break the surface. I anticipate the feeling of the warm beach air. But it never comes.

  My hand smashes against something hard. A smooth, solid surface. A glass ceiling. Holding me captive under the water.

  I flatten my palm and press upward but it doesn’t budge. I feel around for an edge. An opening.