The Lost Memory
A Short Story by John Krissilas
Cover Illustration by Genesis Ocampo
The Lost Memory
In the future... memories and thoughts are stored on devices strapped to our arms, freeing our minds from the need to remember. This seemed like the perfect kind of future for Jason, a father who prides himself on the size of his family photo and video collection. But when Jason encounters a figure who strikes a chord in the deepest recesses of his heart, he comes to the realization that he would give it all up in order to find his “Lost Memory”.
“Lily! What have you done?!”
Jason stared at his computer monitor in disbelief. A horrible, sinking feeling entered his stomach, slowly making its way up to his chest. Breathing became harder as his eyes scanned through the folders on his hard drive. Everything was gone. Everything. His initial shock began to transform into an uncontrollable anger.
“Sorry, Daddy,” squeaked a tiny voice from the doorway. Two magnificent blue eyes—both filling with tears—peered into the room, before quickly disappearing from view. Little Lily knew she had done something very bad.
“I can’t believe it,” Jason sighed to himself. “Every single file. Gone.” He looked back towards the empty doorway and whispered, “How could you have done this?”
****
That night, Jason was as restless as he had ever been. He had tossed and turned in bed for hours before resolving to simply lie there, staring at the ceiling.
“Jason, I’m sorry about the files,” his wife Sophia whispered to him sternly as she turned to face him. She exhaled deeply, examining his face, looking for a reaction. He was unmoved. “All of your work files are backed up at the office, anyways. I think you should just forget about it, forgive her, and get some sleep.”
His eyes glanced towards her, but only for a second. “It’s not the work files, Sophia, it’s everything else. All of the photos that we’ve taken over all these years, they’re all gone. Our honeymoon, our trip to Belize, Lily when she was just a baby, my mother just before she passed away—all gone.”
“I know, sweetie,” she replied as she turned away from him, “but they’re just photos.”
“They’re not just photos, Sophia, they’re memories. And they’re lost forever.”
****
Jason suddenly sat up in bed, startled. Blood rushed towards his head. His eyes were blurry and sweat dripped down his forehead. Something had woken him. He sat there for a moment, listening intently. Silence.
Then he heard it, a faint banging. Somebody was knocking at the door. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get up, he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 5:52. For a moment, he froze, deciding whether to answer the door or to ignore it and go back to sleep. He looked back towards Sophia, who slept undisturbed. Then he heard the banging once again, louder this time. The decision was made. He got up off the bed, put on his slippers, wrapped himself in his crimson robe, and headed downstairs.
The banging rang in his ears as he approached the front door. Peering through the peep hole, he saw the neighbourhood paperboy, Charlie. He couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, and he was barely tall enough to even be seen through the peep hole. His tousled red hair seemed fitting for this time of the morning.
“Jesus, Charlie, what are you thinking,” Jason muttered to himself as he unlocked the door. Taking in a deep breath, he turned the knob and swung the door open.
“Hi, Mister,” the boy said innocently, standing in place, both of his hands in his pockets. The day’s newspaper lay rolled up at his feet. An early morning fog enveloped the entire neighbourhood street in a white haze, obscuring everything in Jason’s gaze other than the boy standing before him. Exhaling sharply, he stepped through the doorway and bent down to pick up the paper.
“Morning, Charlie,” he said as he rose. “Isn’t it a bit too early f—.” He froze. The newspaper dropped to his feet. He was no longer standing at the doorstep of his house. Not even close. “What the…” he whispered as he took in his new surroundings: tall, twisting skyscrapers that disappeared into the fog, flashing bright neon lights that directed the barely audible traffic, dark, rain-soaked city streets. The sound of police sirens echoed in the distance. They were coming closer. Wispy grey clouds filled the air between the skyscrapers, casting a dark shadow across the city block.
“Where are we?” he asked, watching his breath turn to vapor before his eyes. A cool breeze blew past them, causing him to shiver and tighten the belt around his robe.
In a matter-of-fact kind of way, Charlie replied, “The future.”
The Lost Memory Page 1
