Memorize (Book One)

Dream Pod

He lied flat on his back. Closed his eyes. Gave it all up and waited for his dreams to unfold. He knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Not that he would remember any of it. It was the drill: fantasy, adrenaline, visions beyond the limits of imagination. Everything was permitted, but nothing could be retained.

All he knew was that he would wake up breathing fast, with uncontrollable tears and a palpitating heart. Hands shaking, blood thumping, and usually experiencing a deep feeling of contentment. Sometimes too, he would open his eyes and catch himself roaring with laughter. Anyway, he wouldn't know what it was all about.

Such was the Dream Pod experience: your wish was its command, but the price to pay was to swap the memory of the experience with the feelings it provided.

On some occasions, people had an Uncontrollable Fit in the Pod. The Healing Rescue had to take care of them: it was always solved in a matter of minutes. But Starling had been witness to a few unsettling scenes : getting out of the Pod, he had caught sight of the Rescue members, kneeling urgently beside the body of a person who was in a state hard to describe. Rage or agony, it seemed. Or extreme agitation: something most unwelcome and closely monitored by GloCo.

On B24, where Starling was born, aggressiveness was prohibited. Violence didn't exist. Accidents were as rare as Stardust Rains. People had peaceful relations. But in the Dream Pod, the mind seemed to have a way out of this world. God knows what it was conjuring in those uncanny dream-makers.

As Starling was nestling in his Pod, he found himself in a very unusual condition. He was a man of laughter, spatial lager and friends. He rarely stopped in his tracks to ponder over useless questions and never speculated about the possible consequences of his actions. He was alive, and acted for the best. Did his best. Took the best.

Yet that night, Starling was feeling... down. He kept seeing Jay in his mind. Something was off. Something felt wrong. He knew it was all for the best, but he couldn't help coming back to that night. His friend still hadn't returned. This was a very rare instance of Re-Scheduling Failure. It sometimes happened. For whatever reason, the re-engineering process had partially failed on a nervous level. The solution was simple: it was necessary to do a deeper reset of the brain.

While the initial re-scheduling process was based essentially on erasing cognitive areas and systems and implementing new ones, the R-SF situation called for a different set of actions. Starling had no clue about what was done. He knew what all the inhabitants of B24 knew: it was exceptional, painless, and usually successful. R-SF people had to be helped and cured. Else they could become a danger to others and to themselves. A threat to the community. There was no other solution. But Jay's last words kept echoing in his mind. And Starling was experiencing doubt for the first time of his life.

So that night, he decided to spend a long time in the Pod. Whenever a person felt some sort of weakness or uneasiness, they did just that. A visit to the Pod, and everything was fine again.

The young man stretched his legs, opened his arms and took a deep breath. He buried his head deep in the rest pad, strands of blond hair spreading softly as he reached complete stillness. He felt the smooth surface underneath his body reshaping and re-arranging itself, sustaining each and every of his muscles. The side wings of the Pod gave a gentle push against his arms and legs. There was light in abundance all around him, diffuse and almost liquid-like, and he immediately felt deep warmth and boundless comfort.

Eyes closed, Starling spoke his wish.

The Pod understood, and took him where he wanted to be.