****
The sun was setting, painting the sky with streams of deep orange and purple. Jason and Charlie stood on an empty, desolate street in front of a rundown storefront. The large window was half-covered with metal bars, and Jason could just make out the tattered sign above it: ‘Memory Wholesaler – Buy, Sell, Rent.’ The place looked like it had not seen any customers for some time.
“To find the memory,” Charlie said as he looked up at Jason, “you must speak with the woman inside. She is very wise, Mister. She’ll tell you what you must do.” As Jason moved towards the door, he looked back at the boy, who had remained in place. “From here on out, you’re on your own, Mister. Good luck.”
A bell rang as Jason walked through the doorway and into the front section of the store. He shuddered as he peered around his new environment. The place smelled foul and a hint of smoke filled the air. Pages of old newspapers littered the floor, and a dead mouse lay pinned in a mousetrap in the corner of the room, flies buzzing around it. But that was just the beginning. All over the walls, large, life-sized photographs had been posted: children, families, epic landscapes and frenzied nightclubs. Each photo had several prices listed on them, some even had prices that had been slashed repeatedly.
Next to them he spied several blown up posters of what looked like the covers of gossip tabloids. Each poster featured an image of an extremely famous celebrity, which was surrounded by headlines of what were probably the key events from their lives. He recognized the smiling face of one of them. Live the famed life of pop-singer extraordinaire, Lady Gaga, it read, from her startling rise to stardom, to her downfall at the hands of a malfunctioning private jet. Every scene, every memory, can be yours! A few prices were scrawled onto the corner of the poster, much higher than the cost of the generic memories he had spotted before. A bad taste filled the back of his mouth as he took it all in.
Remembering the urgency of the task at hand, he snapped out of his daze, walked towards the empty front desk, and rang the bell.
“Hello, Jason,” a familiar voice echoed from the back room. “Good of you to finally make it here in one piece. I’ve been expecting you.” Out from the darkness sauntered a woman around his age, wrapped in dark blue silk from head to toe. A veil covered her mouth, slightly muffling her speech, but her eyes could be seen quite clearly. He recognized them immediately.
“Sophia?” Jason whispered in astonishment.
“How do you like your future, Jason,” the woman replied, ignoring his question, “is it everything you imagined, everything you dreamed of?” She placed a gloved hand onto his arm and slowly traced her fingers down to the memory holding device wired to his veins. For a second she left her hand there, and her eyes locked on his, gazing deep into the recesses of his soul. “It is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it,” she continued as she scanned through the menus on his device.
“It isn’t perfect,” Jason replied in a low tone as he glanced back at the posters on the wall of the memories for sale.
“No, it isn’t,” the woman replied, her hand falling from his arm and onto the desk in between them. “Rather than living life in the here and now, our lives are now an illusion. We obsess over re-experiencing our memories and the feelings associated with them—happiness, adventure, tragedy—instead of focusing on the moment at hand.” She followed Jason’s gaze to the memories for sale on the wall. “Sometimes, we even pay large amounts of money to relive the memories of others. And if we’re desperate to make money, we even give up some of our own forever to make a profit, selling as many memories as we can until there are none left. And when that happens, we realize that we have nothing, and recede into a life of misery and solitude.” Jason remembered the gruesome creature that had attacked him near the alleyway that morning.
“How precious are memories, really,” she asked, “when we buy and sell them like they are nothing more than commodities?”
“Well,” Jason replied, his voice shaking, “I’m looking for a memory that is extremely precious to me. Can you help me find it?”
“I can give you what you have lost,” the woman replied, “but it will cost you.” Confused, Jason moved his hand towards where his wallet would have been before remembering that he was still wearing his morning robe. He searched through the robe’s pockets, but found nothing.
“I don’t have anything to offer you,” he resigned.
The woman stared deep into his eyes, and he detected the hint of a smile underneath her veil. “I believe you do.” She nodded towards the device on his arm. “You have something very valuable, in fact.”
“My memories?” he replied, taken aback. They had already been taken from him once. Was he willing to lose them again?
“To recover what you seek, I require a great sacrifice. You must decide, Jason, what is truly important to you.” He shifted in place. “Make your choice.”
For a moment, he hesitated, remembering the anger, sadness, and regret that he had felt after losing his memories the night before. Then the image of the girl playing the piano flooded back into his mind and his choice became clear. “Take them.”
The woman reached towards the device and plugged a cable into it. Pressing a button, she activated the file transfer. Jason froze as he felt his mind going blank. About a minute later, it was over. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“You will find what was stolen from you just outside that door.” She pointed towards a side door next to the back room as she unplugged the cable from his device. “And Jason. Remember the decision you just made. This memory should never be forgotten.”
He burst through the door and into a damp alleyway, lit only by the streetlights coming from his left. Thunder roared as rain began to pour down, soaking him. Looking to his right, deep into the darkness of the alley, he saw a masked figure. As soon as the man caught a glimpse of him, he darted deeper into the shadows. Jason started after him, throwing off his slippers. “Stop! Thief! Come back here!” he screamed, just making out the figure in front of him. His breathing began to labor as the figure disappeared from the alley and into a dense white fog. “Somebody, help!”
A cold wind hit him like a slap in the face as he flew out of the alley and onto the sidewalk of a busy street. Cars whipped by in both directions. His heart was pounding as he looked left and scanned the sidewalk for the man he sought. Just a few late night revelers. He swung right and looked off into the distance. Nothing. Then he saw him: the figure had disappeared into another alleyway between the buildings across the street.
Not thinking, Jason ran. The first few cars managed to stop in just enough time but the next one skidded through a puddle towards him. He froze, blinded by the headlights, before moving instinctively in a low jump. The car grazed him as he rolled over its hood, falling on the other side as it came to a screeching halt. He swore to himself as he got up and continued across the street.
He entered the alley and was startled to see a dead end. The only way out was a metal ladder leading up to the roof of one of the buildings. The figure was rushing up the ladder hastily, and slipped on a damp rung.
“Get down here!” Jason screamed, running towards him. The man paused to look down at him before reaching for the next rung. Jason lunged for his foot but missed and grabbed a hold of the ladder instead. “No!” he screamed as he reached upwards with all of his might.
Then he caught it, the back of the figure’s shoe. It was soaked from the rain, and his hands struggled to maintain a solid grip. The figure above him was panting heavily, fighting with all of his might to loosen Jason’s grip on his shoe. Jason pulled with everything he had, pushing against the wall with his feet, before the figure finally tumbled down on top of him. Shaken, Jason grabbed the man, who struggled to get away, and pulled his body towards him. He grabbed the man by his collar and lifted him up so that they were face-to-face. The figure’s mask was drenched from the rain and clung to the features of his face. His heart racing, Jason looked directly into the man’s eyes.
> “Why did you do this to me!” Jason screamed. “Why did you take her away?” He shook the figure violently in his grip, screaming at him in agony. “Give me back my memory! Give me back my daughter!” He reached with his hand and tore off the man’s mask, throwing it to the rain-soaked pavement. Looking down at his face, Jason’s heart stopped. A chill ran down his spine and an unfathomable feeling of guilt, shame, and anger swelled within him as he recognized the face before him. It was his own.
Then, in a sudden flash of light, there was nothing.
****
“Honey, we’re home!” Sophia called from the doorway, with little Lily at her side, kicking off her rain boots. “Jason?” she called again.
“In the living room,” he replied.
“Daddy?” Lily said curiously as she inched out of the hallway and into the living room. As Sophia walked over to join them, she heard a sudden outburst of giggles and an unruly clash of musical notes. Jason sat with Lily in front of a brand new grand piano, banging away at the keys with delight.
“Daddy, I love it!” the girl squealed.
“Jason… why?” Sophia mouthed as he looked back at her. She saw the smile on his face, and understood. “Should I grab the camera, to capture the moment?”
Both Jason and Lily turned towards her. “No, honey, don’t worry. The moment is just fine.”
The Lost Memory is part of the In-Futura ( In the future… ) short story collection
To find out more, visit www.JohnKrissilas.com
The Lost Memory Page 4
