by Tom Gabbay
"What are you doing out here?" she asked, unable to hide her amusement at the sight of Ula standing there in her nightshirt and dressing gown. "You know you don't have any shoes on, right?"
Ula shook her head, searching for a rational response. "I was in bed and... and I heard something. There was a noise."
"A noise?" Mia reached into the black cab that had brought her home and paid the driver.
"Yes. A car... It kept honking and it woke me up."
Mia collected her change and the taxi drove off. "It must have been an alarm," she said.
Ula frowned. "Something is wrong," she said.
"Well, you'll catch cold standing there like that." Mia headed up the path toward the house, but stopped halfway when Ula didn't follow. "Ula? Aren't you coming in?"
"I... I don't think I can."
"What do you mean you can't? Why not?"
"I'm stuck."
"Stuck?"
"Yes, I... I can’t seem to move."
Mia took a few steps back toward Ula. "Well, it's your own fault, isn't it?" she said.
"My fault?"
"Of course it is!"
Ula frowned. "I... I don't understand."
Mia sighed in frustration. "Well, you see, you're in control now, so you can do whatever you want. If you can't move it's because you don't want to."
"I do want to," Ula said, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "But I can't seem to go forward and I can't go back."
Mia shrugged. "Maybe you should just leave then."
"Leave?"
"Yes. Leave."
"How can I leave when I'm stuck?"
"Drink the water," Mia replied.
"The water?"
"Yes."
"What water?"
"Just drink it, Ula." Mia's voice was suddenly mixed with Erik's.
"Go ahead," they said in unison. "Drink."
20.
The sensation of the cold, wet liquid against her lips was enough to pull Ula out of the dream. She allowed a few drops to seep into her mouth before opening her eyes.
"Welcome back," Erik said.
Ula pushed his hand away, spilling the water across her chest, then she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Feeling dizzy and vaguely nauseous, she removed the E.I.R. from her head and looked around the attic in an attempt to get her bearings.
"There was quite a bit of brain activity," Erik said as he returned to the computer station to check the data. "And you were in almost constant REM. How much do you remember?" He picked up his camera but put it back down when Ula gave him a look.
"How long this time?" she asked, rubbing her temples.
"I woke you after thirty minutes. I'm afraid that a longer period would make it too difficult for you to make a complete account of the memory."
Ula frowned. "What day is it?"
"Saturday."
"Day or night?"
"Morning. A few minutes past eleven o'clock."
Ula bowed her head and closed her eyes, which only made her feel more lightheaded. "I don't remember starting the session," she said.
"Interesting." Erik made a note in the logbook. "But perhaps not so surprising. Your brain has quite a lot to process at the moment. More important is what you're able to recall from the experience."
Ula located her cane and dismounted from the subject chair. "I don't want to talk about it," she said as she headed toward the stairway.
"But you must talk about it... Ula? Where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well," she replied as she disappeared down the steps. "I'm going to lie down."
Erik sat back and took a deep breath. Ula's emotional reaction to the memories was becoming increasingly troublesome. If she was now going to refuse to share her experiences, the study would be doomed, which simply wasn't an option. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he wasn't about to let it slip away.
Following Ula downstairs, he tapped several times on her bedroom door before getting a response. "Go away," she finally said.
"All right," he replied. "I'll do that. But I want you to know that if I leave now, I'll not be coming back." He waited for an answer, but there was none, so he continued. "And Ula... you should know also that I will be taking the memory files with me. The original and the backup copy. I feel this is justified since I was the one who -- "
The door opened and Ula appeared. "You can't do that," she said, fixing him with a steely gaze.
Erik returned her look for a brief moment, then he turned and walked away. "It's quite a nice day outside," he said without looking back. "Perhaps some fresh air will be useful to our discussion."
The caf was filled with cliques of young mothers and their loud children taking a break from the playground so, in spite of the January chill, Ula chose an outside table. Erik went in to order and came back with two steaming cups of tea.
"Strong with no sugar," he said as he sat down. "Unlike me, who takes two. What can I say? I have a sweet tooth."
Ula saw through his attempt at small talk and had no patience for it. "You can't take the files," she said.
"I don't see why not," he replied. "After all, I was the one who extracted them."
"They'll be useless without my software."
"Precisely." He stirred his tea. "Separately, we have nothing. But if we can find an acceptable way to work together, we will have created something truly revolutionary. Imagine, Ula, the applications a process like this will have. I truly feel that we have a unique opportunity to make an important contribution to science, and even to mankind."
"And here I thought you just wanted to win the Nobel Prize off the back of my work."
An acidic smile formed on Erik's lips. "Whether we like it or not, we find ourselves in a codependent relationship. You can choose, of course, to end it. But if you take that option, I will stand up right now and walk away. With the files."
Ula sat there for a moment, perfectly still, staring into her teacup. "What do you want?" she said without looking up. Erik took his phone out of his pocket, opened the audio recording application, and placed it on the table between them.
"Everything," he said. "All that you can remember."
Ula turned away and gazed out across the open space of the park. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked at an unseen disturbance. When she finally spoke, it was in a whisper.
"She was raped."
The word stunned Erik into silence. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "It's terrible that you had to see this."
"I didn't see it," she replied bitterly. "I experienced it."
Erik nodded. "Yes, I understand." He furrowed his brow and leaned forward. "What can you recall about this incident?"
Ula sighed, then closed her eyes and lowered her head into her hands. "We were in a car," she began slowly. "He'd driven me home... from a party. Yes. That's right. There was a party. Crowds of people and loud music. And drugs... I smoked something..."
"Mia smoked something."
"Yes." Ula acknowledged. "Mia smoked something."
"And what happened in the car?"
"She tried to get out, but he wouldn't let her."
"Can you describe this man?"
"No..." She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up the memory. "It's too dark. I can't see his face."
"A name? Can you recall his name?"
"No, I -- "
"Do you believe this man was the killer?"
"I don't know."
"Did he possess a knife?"
"I don't know," Ula repeated, more forcefully.
"How did the episode end?"
"I don't know!"
"Was this the night she was -- "
"I DON'T KNOW!"
Ula pounded the table, drawing the attention of two young mothers who were leaving the café. They exchanged a look and quickly herded their young ones away, whispering as they went. Erik waited until they were in full retreat before turning back to Ula.
"You must try to remember what happened
next."
"I don't have to try. I know what happened."
Erik frowned. "I don't understand. If you know what happened next, why is it that you don't know how the assault concluded?"
"Because it changed."
"Changed?"
"Yes."
"What changed?"
"The memory."
"In what way did it change?"
"I was there, inside Mia -- in her head -- when she was attacked. But then..."
"Yes?"
"It all changed. Suddenly, I was in my bed... and I was me again."
"You were Ula?"
"Yes."
"What happened then?"
"There was a noise... a car horn. It woke me up. I knew something was wrong. I sensed, somehow, that Mia was in trouble so I rushed outside. But when I got there, it was all different. She was getting out of a taxi and... she was fine. Everything was fine. It was as if the attack had never happened."
Erik sat back in his chair, folded his hands together, and observed Ula for a moment. "Do I understand it correctly that you saw two entirely different memories?"
"Yes."
"And they were in direct opposition to each other?"
"Yes."
He thought about it for another moment. "Which one is correct?"
"I don’t know."
"But you were there, weren't you? At the original event."
"Yes."
"So you must know which scenario actually happened."
She shook her head. "They both happened."
"Of course, I understand. In your mind they both happened. But in reality, only one memory can be correct."
"I don't know. I suppose so."
"It's not a supposition, Ula. It's a fact. There is only one reality and if you don't realise this, well then -- "
"Then what?" She looked up sharply.
"Then we have a significant problem."
She fixed him with a long, cold stare then picked up her cane and stood up. "I don't remember what happened," she snapped. "And to be honest, I don't give a fuck."
"Yes, I can see that," Erik replied, but she was already walking away. He sat there a beat, then sighed and got up to follow.
"Would you like to know what I think?" he said when he'd caught up.
"Not really."
"I think you enjoy being together with her again and you would prefer to stay there, in the past. But your subconscious knows how badly it ends, so it has decided to change the memory in order to create a more satisfying outcome. I believe your personal feelings are corrupting her memory."
Ula shot him a sideways glance. "Go to hell."
Erik shrugged. "It’s not surprising, really. To alter history by changing the memory of it is a natural human trait. But this time, instead of altering your own memory, you are altering hers."
Ula turned to face him. "What's your point?"
"I believe we need to make a change in the protocol."
"What sort of change?"
"Your emotional involvement is making it impossible to gather accurate data. Therefore I suggest that, when we resume the study on Monday morning, you will take my position at the control panel and I will take over as host to the memories."
"And if I don't agree?"
"I'm sorry, Ula, but in that case I will have no choice but to withdraw from the study. And you will lose forever the memory of Mia."
21.
Watching the steady drip, drip, drip of the leaky tap put Ula into a trance-like state. Upon returning to the house she'd quickly stripped off and slipped into a steaming hot bath, hoping it might wash away the bitter aftertaste of Erik's vile betrayal. The thought of him roaming around in Mia's memory, intruding on her secrets -- their secrets -- made her feel physically ill.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift into deeper waters. It was a familiar place, a sanctuary where she could escape the hard edges of the physical world without disturbing the demons that lurked in the dark depths of her unconscious mind. Here, she could be truly alone, and in control.
Ula had always sought out solitude. Even before the accident she'd lived a life of almost complete anonymity, striving to avoid the clumsy awkwardness of social interaction whenever possible. It wasn't that she didn't like people, it was more that she feared them. More specifically, she feared the way they made her feel when it became clear -- which it did almost immediately -- that she had no idea how to act with them. It was as though they all knew the script by heart while she had no idea what her lines were supposed to be. Most of the time it didn't matter as she found most people predictable and tedious, but even when she found someone of interest -- a fellow student or, later, a colleague or co-worker -- something prevented her from being able to connect in the way that others could.
It got worse after the accident. Unwilling to take up her position back at the institute, or to share her findings with its directors, her funding quickly disappeared. She continued her work, alone in the attic, using her trust fund money until it ran out, at which point she had no choice but to write a grant proposal. The initial interest it generated swiftly vanished when Ula failed to appear at the personal interview -- she'd rehearsed the meeting for weeks and even dressed for the occasion, but when it came down to it, she couldn't bring herself to leave the house.
She fell into a deep depression. The more she slept -- which was most of the day -- the more exhausted she felt. And the more exhausted she felt, the more she slept. With curtains drawn and no outside contact, time became a meaningless concept and Ula had no idea how many days or weeks had passed when the bell rang and she found a tall, slightly awkward German intellectual standing on her doorstep. Erik had introduced himself and explained that he'd seen her proposal and would be willing to finance the study himself if she would agree to take him on as a partner. The fact that he didn't bother with small talk and made no effort to ingratiate himself gave Ula the confidence to accept his proposal. That and the knowledge that she had no alternatives.
It was at Erik's insistence that she advertised for a lodger. While he was happy to subsidise the study, he wasn't willing to support Ula herself, no matter how meagre her needs were. And, he argued, it was a terrible waste to have such a big house filled with empty rooms. She put the idea off for as long as she could, but Erik finally placed the ad himself.
Mia had awakened something in Ula. Though blissfully unaware of the effect she was having, the young girl touched a place that had never before been reached by another human being. Perhaps, after a lifetime of emotional exile, Ula needed only the most basic offer of friendship to construct the misguided idea that some deep bond existed between them. Or maybe she simply fell in love, as happens every day. In the end, it didn't matter. Whatever the truth, losing Mia had been a devastating blow, and not a day had gone by since the murder that she hadn't thought about joining her in death. Whatever that might be, it had to be better than the purgatory she existed in now.
"Then do it!"
The voice startled Ula out of her reverie. She shot up out of the water into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around her upper body to cover her nakedness. But looking around the darkened bathroom, she saw that she was alone.
22.
The Met Police tactical unit pulled into Strathan Close at precisely 5:30 AM and came to a stop in front of the target property. The two bedroom council house had been under surveillance for several days following a tip from a neighbour that there was an unusual amount of comings and goings at the premises. When it became clear that many of the comers and goers were known street dealers, a warrant was obtained and the early morning raid was put into effect.
A half-dozen officers, dressed in protective body armour, emerged from the vehicle and moved quietly into position, two men proceeding to the rear exit while the remaining four prepared for a frontal assault. On a signal from the sergeant in charge, the lead man stepped forward and, with one powerful blow from a battering ram, shattered the early morning calm.
The sergeant in charge greeted him with a smile. "Have a seat." he said.
"I ain't sayin' nothing," Peter hissed as he was guided into a chair.
"No need to. I'll do the talking, at least for now."
The sergeant removed a driving licence from the wallet he was holding.
"Peter Greene..." He looked up and smiled again. "I’m arresting you on suspicion of the illegal distribution of a controlled substance. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"
"Fuck you," Peter mumbled.
"I’ll take that as a yes."
"Take it however you want."
"Right. So, then, tell me, Peter..." He looked through the cupboard and drawers as he spoke. "How long have you resided at this address?"
"I didn't say I do, did I?"
"Don't you?"
"I don't have to say nothin'."
"How about the girl?"
"What about her?"
"She live here or just visiting?"
"None of your business."
The sergeant was about to respond when one of his men stepped into the room. "I think you'd better see this," he said, holding out a Nike shoe box. "Found it in the closet, hidden under a pile of dirty pants."
The officer placed the box on the table and removed the lid, revealing a collection of newspaper clippings. Picking out the top article, he unfolded the front page of The Sun, dated 24 September, and displayed it for the sergeant. Above a photo of Mia, smiling and happy, the headline screamed in big, bold ink:
"TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"
