Remember Me (ONC2020) ✔

Chapter 2

In a small, sterile room, Solara inspected the black cap in her hand, ensuring the camera chips and infrared light emitters were secure on its soft material. It still amazed her something as simple as shooting light into the brain, descattering the particles, and recording the signal allowed her to capture the human experience.

"Ready, Mr. Benito?" she asked.

The middle-aged man's body twitched, his face and arms covered in cuts and bruises. Despite her idyllic intentions of helping the blind to savour a sunset or the paralyzed to run a marathon, money dictated the memories she captured. Those with it didn't have the most savoury desires.

"Yes, I suppose... yes." Mr. Benito couldn't meet her eyes.

"It's best to remember why you're doing this. It'll help get you through it."

She placed an infrared cap on her patient's head, and he lay back on the cushioned, reclining chair. Mr. Benito quivered under her scrutiny then focused on a painting of a tree's silhouette basking in glowing sunset rays. Red, orange, pink and purple hues offered the only colour in the blindingly white closet of an office. The artist would despise having his work associated with the memory-capturing business. He'd painted it for her to remind her not to dwell on the absence of light as the day was extinguished, but the beauty it brought to life.

Solara wanted the piece to inspire the same hope in her patients as it had for her. Someday, they'd support themselves or their families off their next great experience and no longer require her services. She, however, would continue to be a cog in the Lower to Upper-Caldozza machine for years to come.

As she opened the memory-recording app on her tablet, loud knocks caused Mr. Benito to jump. She furrowed her brow. She had no upcoming meetings, and her sister, who owned the restaurant downstairs, screened the visitors allowed up here. Could it be the authorities investigating her patient's strange side-effects? Solara had warned the girl to see a doctor if she continued to experience gaps.

When the knocks reverberated again, she set down the tablet, poured Mr. Benito another glass of relaxant tea, and strode through the unattended lobby to the door. A familiar man with bags under his eyes and black hair sticking up at all angles stood on the balcony before her with his hands shoved in his pockets. Hands that used to guide her through things that terrified her like riverbank jumping and motorbike driving, and that pulled her back to reality when her world came crashing down. Her heart raced as her hand shot up to smooth her hair. Ten years may have passed, but he still made her feel like a tongue-tied schoolgirl.

After looking over her lab coat, he stepped back. Solara fought the urge to comfort him like when they were kids, before the demands and ethics of her career came between them.

"Sorry, I need your help," Runan muttered to his shoes.

Her eyes widened. The last conversation they'd had years ago made her seem like the last person he'd ever want to visit. Ten years of silence between them since that night confirmed it. He must be desperate. The memory specialist community was abuzz with the news of his sister. No one had handled her memories, but more experienced extractors had processed the witnesses. The rumours were gory.

Solara stepped toward him and smiled. "I'm with a patient, but he's my last one. I can meet you downstairs afterwards."

Runan scratched his unkempt beard and nodded.

As he retreated down the stairs, she added, "I heard the news. It's a devastating loss. She always inspired me to dream big."

Stiffening, Runan looked everywhere but Solara. "Basil noodles with hot sauce and chicken?"