The Gift of Remembering

by C. L. Shaffer

  "I was banged up a bit. But I'm fine now. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to make you feel bad."

  "Why would I—" Chris ran his hand through his hair. "You didn't tell me because of my connection to The . . . Discord."

  "I thought it would upset you that they'd hurt me, even if it was indirectly."

  Oddly enough, Chris was somewhat relieved by his daughter's decision not to tell him. The fact that she cared enough to conceal the information demonstrated that The Firsts hadn't completely hardened her. However, her reason for marrying Wallace was still troubling. It seemed she felt she owed him something.

  He kept that thought to himself as the waiter came to their table. "What do you recommend?" he asked his daughter, somewhat overwhelmed by the wide range of choices.

  "The filet mignon is quite good."

  Chris took her recommendation and ordered the filet, and the waiter headed back to the kitchen. Chris leaned forward. "How are The Firsts able to offer such a selection? It's nothing like the little eatery I go to where, maybe, on a good day, there are three things on the menu."

  Tia put her hand to her mouth as if to conceal a giggle. "Father, you're like a kid in a candy store."

  Chris sat back in his chair. "Sorry. I guess it's been a while since I've had steak or anything like it."

  "Having a car, an apartment, and food in your stomach isn't good enough for you?"

  "Well, a hologram once offered me land."

  Tia laughed out loud. "You are funny, father."

  Chris could feel his chest tighten. "But why didn't I receive the land I was promised?"

  Tia pushed up the gold bracelet on her arm that had fallen during her moment of hilarity. "Well, they didn't quite get what they wanted, did they?"

  "I've not heard any complaints," Chris said, playing dumb.

  "Perhaps not, but the reason you haven't been highly rewarded is that we didn't find anything significant from processing Irene Duncan," Tia explained, looking down at the table. "A computer virus ate away most of her memories. What was left offered no secret location or anything about The Discord." His daughter flashed him a glance. "The best they could piece together was that Mac and Irene were in some kind of relationship since she was always at his house."

  Chris glimpsed back at Ollie, who may have done what Chris asked, but as a kind of revolt against Chris's blackmailing, arranged Mac's memories in such a way to suggest an affair had occurred between Mac and Irene.

  "Of course," Tia continued, "none of that was your fault, but it was still a dead end. You were rewarded for bringing in Irene. That's all. And to be honest, I'm not sure you would have gotten even that if it wasn't for me."

  Chris sniffed a laugh.

  His daughter glared at him, but the expression quickly softened. "Now, father, I don't want to compete with you. I get enough of that as it is." She rested her hands on his. "Can we just be a father and daughter, sharing a nice meal?"

  "That's just it. Are we really a father," he said and then pointed at her, "and a daughter?"

  She blinked as her mouth fell open a little. "Why would you say such a thing? I know we're not technically father and daughter, but I've always thought of you as my father."

  "I appreciate and cherish that but . . ."

  "What?"

  "How much do you remember about your mother?"

  Tia put her chin into the air. "I remember she was brave."

  "Yes, of course. But what else?"

  "I'd prefer not to remember most of it, if I'm honest."

  "Are you sure it's a choice?"

  She inhaled loudly. "What are you getting at? I don't want to remember because my mother died during that blasted war." She raised her voice at the end, causing some of the other patrons to turn in her direction. Perhaps noticing their reaction, she inclined toward him. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

  Seeing the waiter coming their way with their entrées, Chris held back his answer. After thanking the waiter, he cut into his filet. His mouth watered as he brought the piece to his mouth. As he chewed, the meat melted in his mouth. It was almost too good to be true.

  "It's good, isn't it?" Tia asked, apparently seeing her father enjoying the meal.

  "It is," he answered with his mouthful. He knifed out another sampling and laughed quietly at the fortune of it all. It had been so long since he'd had real meat. And a funny thought drifted into his mind. If anything could persuade him into dropping his and Irene's plan, it would be the promise of having more food like this.

  …

  Having his fill, Chris wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I can't describe how wonderful that was."

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Tia offered. "I suppose I'll have to invite you out to dinner to make sure you get a proper meal once in a while."

  Chris smiled at her. "I would like that very much."

  "Did you want dessert?"

  Chris patted his stomach. "Oh, no. I'm way too full."

  "Do you mind if I have some? They have the best crème brûlée I've ever tasted."

  "Go right ahead."

  As Tia gestured for the waiter, Chris noticed Ollie and his guest standing from their table, gathering their items to leave. He glanced in Chris's direction and began to walk toward him.

  Moving around the waiter, who was making his way back to the kitchen, Ollie held out his hand to Chris. "Good to see you, Chris."

  Chris gripped Ollie's hand. "Nice to see you too, Ollie."

  Ollie seemed unaffected as he slipped his hand from Chris's and motioned to his guest standing beside him. "This is my wife, Patrice."

  Chris greeted Patrice politely and introduced his daughter.

  Ollie offered an unnecessary bow. "It's my pleasure. You probably were unaware of this, but your father and I go way back. We served in the war together."

  Tia peered at Chris from across the table. "I was unaware of that."

  "I didn't mean to interrupt your dinner. I just wanted to introduce myself." Ollie bowed once more before heading toward the exit with his wife.

  Tia raised her eyebrows in a look of surprise. "You knew Ollie during the war?"

  "Yeah," Chris said, watching the flames in the fireplace. "He's just one of the many men I served with."

  "He's being investigated."

  Chris's breath caught, but he remained visibly calm as he kept his attention on the fire. "Really? What for?"

  "They're looking into the source of the virus that corrupted Irene Duncan's memory. The machine you chose was a machine Ollie Crowder repaired."

  "But Ollie isn’t a programmer. He’s more of a . . . mechanic."

  "He could have inserted a flash drive with a virus on it into the machine. The Firsts are checking every possibility."

  Chris picked up his napkin and pretended to wipe his face. He needed to conceal his look of concern that was slowly turning into worry. Ollie had introduced himself for a reason. He'd probably found out he was being investigated and figured if he was going down, he would take Chris along with him.

  When Tia's crème brûlée arrived, it nearly made Chris sick to his stomach watching her eat. He'd been distracted by her fancy restaurant and her fancy food. He needed to set the course right and complete what he'd come there to do. Time was running out. It wouldn't be long until the thin thread he'd tied everything together with would break. "You asked me earlier why I mentioned your mother."

  "Yes, and it appears you want to address that unpleasant memory once again."

  "The truth is, I thought you would be curious about her now that you are getting married and eventually will have a family of your own. It would be good to have some history about where you came from to share with your kids."

  Tia laughed through a spoonful of crème brûlée. "It's going to be a long time before Wallace and I have children. We're both too mission-oriented."

  "I'm glad to hear that," Chris offered truthfully, "but it still would be good to know your history."

  Tia scooped up anothe
r spoonful of her dessert. "I suppose that's true. I did love my mother. I remember that, but I don't recall much else." Tia paused and stared at the corner of the table, seeming distracted by a thought. She then returned her attention to Chris. "To be honest, I wouldn't know where to start. Maybe you could help me fill in the gaps?"

  Chris placed his napkin on the table. "I'm afraid your mother didn't talk too much about her past. I know she had an aunt. Her name was Beatrice Kline. Maybe to find out more, you could look to The Firsts. Were you aware they store the memories of those they've processed?"

  "Yes, but I'm surprised you know that."

  "Some overly enthusiastic IT person once told me. But I thought you could begin with those stored memories. Look up this Beatrice Kline to see if she was processed. Maybe her memories will provide some information. I'd be happy to come with you."

  "I would need permission to view stored memories," Tia explained, scraping the sides of her bowl.

  "From whom?"

  She lifted her attention from her dessert. "My fellow council members, of course." She dumped her elbows on the table. "What did you think, father? That there's some all-powerful man behind the curtain in charge of everything? No, it's me and about a hundred other people running things." She paused. "And you could be one of us if you played your cards right."

  "I appreciate that, but I don't understand why you would need permission. Just do it. It sounds like you're in charge just as much as they are."

  "I suppose that's true," she said, taking one last helping of her dessert.

  Chapter 26

  The stored memories were kept in a location similar to Mayfield City. Chris, however, noted a few differences from the grey cement, labor-focused city he resided in. On the main avenue, freshly planted trees lined the street while colorful flower planters highlighted shops and other building fronts. A central park held a large fountain that sprayed its water into the air as people sat around chatting, sunbathing, or reading books. This was The Firsts' playground.

  "Those who received a higher reward live here," Tia said, snapping her compact closed.

  Chris could have guessed as much as he traveled in the back seat of Tia's limo. They were heading toward a temple-like structure positioned high on a hill, which Tia had pointed out earlier as their destination. As they approached the building, they were met by security.

  Tia leaned out her window. "Hello, Rudy. How are you, today?" she said casually to the young guard who emerged from the security hut.

  "Hello, Miss Forester. I'm fine."

  "We're here for our visit. You were informed I was coming today, correct?"

  Rudy placed his hands on the wide belt that circled his mid-section, which held a gun and a few other security guard essentials. He bent down to peer into the backseat of the limo. "We don't often get such short notice, Miss Forester. I have to say this whole thing is a bit unorthodox."

  "I know Rudy, but Trevor McAllister told you I would be coming today."

  "I take orders from Phillip McAllister, not his son, Trevor."

  "I'm sure that's true, Rudy, but I would hate for news about how I was delayed to get back to Phillip."

  Rudy straightened and backed away. "Of course, Miss Forester." Rudy gestured to his fellow guard to raise the boom gate. "Have a good day, Miss Forester." He tipped his hat as the limo drove past the guardhouse.

  Tia repositioned herself in her seat. "I hated to threaten him like that. But really, if a McAllister tells you to do something—you do it."

  "I suppose Rudy was just doing his job."

  "Rudy's job was to let me through without question."

  Chris noticed that his daughter's lackadaisical attitude was vanishing. He wondered why. But he put the thought aside. "I didn't know you were friends with Phillip McAllister's son."

  "What?" she asked, turning quickly to him as if he'd forced her from an important reflection. "I suppose you don't know a lot of things. Most of which happened while you were . . . away."

  Chris tried to look past her comment, which was full of blame for things he couldn't go back and undo. "Trevor is a pretty decent chap," he offered instead, "at least from what I've heard."

  A smile appeared on his daughter's face. "Yes, I think so."

  Chris thought back to their evening together and the way his daughter had searched the restaurant for someone. At the time, he didn't know who she was looking for, but now he had a pretty good idea. "Was Trevor the person you were hoping to see the other night at the restaurant?"

  Tia folded her arms in front of her. "Possibly."

  Chris exhaled. "You know, you don't have to marry Wallace if you don't want to."

  She raised her nose into the air. "As I told you, Wallace saved my life." She glared at him with a look of accusation.

  "Tia, I—"

  "We're here," she stated as the limo pulled in front of the building.

  …

  As father and daughter ascended the building's stone steps, two armed guards opened the massive front doors. Shedding the sunglasses she'd put on as she exited the limo, Tia offered one of the guards a pleased expression. He nodded in return.

  Entering the building, its interior continued the design of an ancient temple. Concrete, square columns lined the promenade. The columns led back into a larger room where a long window, situated high up the wall, allowed beams of light to fill the space with a yellowish haze.

  "I feel like Indiana Jones."

  "Who?"

  Chris snorted in apparent disappointment. "Never mind," he said and returned to looking about the impressive room. "Who designed this?"

  "Carlos Mendez." Tia glanced up at the high stone ceiling. "I like the design, and after what happened to me, I appreciate a good sturdy structure." She glanced over at Chris. "Apparently, Mendez was inspired by someone named . . . Wright?"

  Chris thought for a moment, thinking the name sounded familiar. "You must mean Frank Lloyd Wright. He designed some buildings that sort of resembled this."

  "Did you know him?"

  Chris chuckled. "He was before my time, but he was a famous architect."

  "Oh," Tia sounded, seeming a little confused. "I don't recall a lot before the war. I suppose I was rather young."

  "You weren't that young."

  Tia peered at him with a look of uncertainty on her face. It was the first time since he'd reunited with her that she'd appeared less than confident. Perhaps something was crumbling within her.

  "Where are the servers with all the memories?"

  "Well." Tia strolled toward one of the many columns situated about the space. "That's my contribution to the design." She faced the column. "Passcode 985487," she said into the pillar. A hologram-styled screen projected itself in front of the stone.

  "Cool." Chris moved closer to get a better look.

  Tia grinned, seeming pleased by his reaction. "They relocated the servers from the old city a few weeks ago. I've only seen all of this once when it went operational. I was a part of a larger team, and my job was to create a program to inform us of any potential personality threats by those in the new locations."

  "Sounds helpful," Chris said, keeping his newly formed opinion of The Firsts to himself.

  Tia began interacting with the image projected in front of the column. Appearing to arrive at the program she wanted, she lowered her hands. "Search, Beatrice Kline, location—" She looked over at Chris. "Do you know where she was born?"

  "Ah, I remember your mother once saying she was from Columbus, Ohio."

  Tia spoke the place of birth into the system and then narrowed the search by typing in "review highlights." A still framed image appeared on the screen. It was of a stuffed animal held within the small hands of a child. An arrow blinked overtop of the video. Tia tapped on the arrow, and the image began to play as if it were a movie from the child's perspective. "This was when Beatrice was young, so I assume mother wasn't born yet." Tia clicked on the small fast-forward icon near the bottom. The video sped through
an early life made up of mostly toys, friends, and parents. The child's experiences melded slowly into adolescence and then into her teenage years, which yielded the usual stuff of a first kiss, school dances, team sports, and vast amounts of romantic movies.

  And then what appeared to be a major fight broke out between Beatrice and her parents. Tia slowed the film down to watch it more carefully. As the heated moment ended, she fast-forwarded again. The video streamed on, and it became clear that the argument was the incident that propelled Beatrice out into the world prematurely at the age of sixteen.

  Beatrice had taken several low-paying jobs to support herself, but she continued her studies, nevertheless. She earned a GED and eventually took some night classes in early childhood education at a local community college.

  Chris remembered from Beatrice's reference check that she served as a nanny for two other households before she came to work for their family. His anticipation grew as he viewed those experiences, but he noticed Tia growing impatient.

  She huffed twice before turning to him. "Do you mind if I fast-forward more quickly through this? I haven't seen any indication of my mother in Beatrice's life yet."

  "No, go right ahead," Chris said as he prepared himself for what he knew would now come more quickly.

  Tia hit the fast-forward button again, increasing the speed. Leaving the second home after the two children she cared for were grown, Beatrice set out to find another position. Chris remembered that only Irene was at home when Beatrice came for her interview. Beatrice was one of several applicants his wife had chosen to meet. The plan was that Irene would pick the most suitable candidate, and Chris would then talk with that person.

  As this recollection began to play out on the video, Tia raised her hand and pressed pause. "Why is Irene Duncan interviewing Beatrice?"

  Chris pointed at the screen. "Let's find out."

  Tia pushed play, and the scene eventually rolled into Chris greeting Beatrice at the door. He ushered her to the living room, where Irene was already sitting on the couch. Taking a seat next to her, he put his arm around Irene after offering Beatrice a seat across from them.