Memorize (Book One)

Time Capsule

So the time had come to make peace with questionings and face the past. He had been wanting this so much that the prospect of finally reaching a part of his goals left him vacant and feverish.

Sitting on his couch, under a showering rain of light drops, in a silence only disturbed by the distant, muted voices of his friends, he felt Kizuna's presence nearby. He also felt the calling of his life, a ferment of something waiting to happen, the mere intuition of stories unfinished.

Jay looked at the Memory Box, following the gaping top edge with his index finger. Smooth and polished, with rounded edges, the container was now ready to unleash its secrets. For an instant, he toyed with the idea of letting go, then he suddenly opened the box and spilled its contents on the couch.

A tidal rush of images assaulted him with a familiar, painful violence. He brought his hands to his ears, trying to deafen the infernal piercing sounds coming from within. Somehow, noise and burning torment distorted the flashes that tried to reach him. With a trembling hand, he picked the first object he had dropped: a pendent, a cobalt gem on a titanium chain. He didn't need to study that one more closely. He remembered everything: the little trinket dangling in the Fields, the twinkling signal, the trap laid by his own friend, the Retrievers, the agony... And as a revenge for all the affliction, her apparition. Hera. Holding the necklace in her hands. He looked down at her, making the silent pledge to never let her go.

You'll always remember us, that way... You see those tiny letters, on each side of my initial? There's one for Dust, and one for Gem. Our babies... I've had it made by the Master of Forbidden Crafts. I know, I shouldn't have... Yes, it was crazy...

And the cascading laugh seemed endless after that. She was enveloped in a mist of shivers and turmoil, but he saw her little sihouette, the unswerving determination in her eyes. She was a maker of hope, and this hope transfered instantly into his blood and brought him boundless comfort and strength.

We'll fight this, right? They don't take the Vows anymore, but we did, didn't we? We'll find a way to stay together. We'll run away, we'll hide if we have to.

It was getting harder and harder to hear her.

This is it, then. I will... I'll join the Outcasts, I'll give it all up. I don't want to live like that. I won't stay behind when they take you. I won't take a life where it's all chosen and planned out for me. And I know you won't either. I know you, Jay...

A new series of images invaded Jay's mind as he picked the second object. Tall, towering pine-trees. An old stone house. Heavily perfumed wisteria foliage. Long rows of men embarking on an exploration mission. Fights and battles. The fresh waters of a little mountain brook. Glimpses of the Earth in the Forbidden Times. Scenes of the Great Disease. Lines of old people with vacant looks. More memories of sufferings. Attempts to heal. The Old Days, again.

The second object was just a pebble. Roundish, white, polished by time. And all Jay could see was an endless shore, and the feeling of water on his body. The wind, interminable, unbroken, howling yet chanting. And a man's soothing voice, bringing echoes of coherence. Acting like a compass in the wilderness.

More images kept piling up, barely more than fleeting reflections bringing along a lot of noise and tears. And the melody of children laughing in the distance.

Hera lying beside him. Moments of eternity mixed with the silence of an unfathomable night. A nightingale. A scrumptious snack. The amazing taste of something that existed only in the Old Days.

We'll hack our way through it, Jay. We'll join the Outcasts. We'll meet again. I won't let you go.

There was a heavier object on the couch. It was a small rectangle, black, shiny and lined with silver. It had a dark spotless upside, and when Jay stroked it, fascinated, an image appeared. A picture of him, a younger version of himself. There was an air of innocence that took him aback. An indescribable surge of pain attacked him simultaneously.

Jay dropped the object. This image of him was surreal. His outfit. The way he made faces. And the garden in the background: this place was familiar. The orchard trees. The sun. The lazy atmosphere. The insects buzzing merrily. The birds. The tiny lizards. A whole universe swirled up inside him. And kept rising, rising up, until it threatened to throttle him.

"There, my little darling. This is my present for your sixteenth birthday... I know you've been dreaming of it. I don't know much about this tech thing, but they say it's the nicest mobile phone you can find these days."

"Oh Granny, that's so cool. I love you Gran!"

Was it possible to dream or imagine something so vivid? Why was all this implanted in his mind? First Hera, then... this.

I'm going mad. Epos was right. I'm done.

The whirlpool of emotions and visions was taking him too far now. His past was reclaiming him in more ways than it was possible to answer for. He had looked back and seen someone else's past, for sure. Again the nightingale and the little mountain brook took over his conscience. And Hera's little hand felt so frail in his bigger hand.

I mustn't give up.

Faces superimposed. Feelings multiplied. He was suffocating now, unable to stop the visions and the sounds. He thought he had cried, but he was speechless. The younger version of himself stared at him and he fell down, his knees hitting the floor, spasms contracting his lungs and stomach. Heartbeats slowing down.

Remember. It is all for the best.

The last thing he saw was her face. Starling was standing there too. Ananda. Arende. Even Epos, who picked up the box and quickly shoved its contents inside.

They were all there. Anchoring him back into the present.

"This is enough!" said Kizuna, throwing the box on the furthest couch. "Seal it back please," she said to Epos.

And Epos did, with an uncanny air of relief on his face.