Remember

by Karthikeyan, Girish

  Motive

  Fri 6/9/17 8:22 a.m.

  "Hey, Claire." I meet up with her just as we both leave for work.

  "You look good, considering." I appraise her clothing choices today. A skirt to just below the knee of large decorative cutouts backed in a lighter black and a dark red top with billowy sleeves under a two-button jacket.

  "You have mastered the artful doge." My whisper reaches her ears with a sideways look directed at me.

  "With or without you, everything went as planned." She reacts with normal speech.

  "I'm not so sure.” Another whisper from me. “Why did you go down there in the first place?" An edge of something, bitterness or accusation, not sure which, accompanied everything I said.

  "I actually go there once a week or more often. I help them keep the place up and updated." Claire presses down on the elevator and we wait.

  What’s taking so long? "Are you sure that's it?"

  "Believe what you want. I don't drink, sims or otherwise." She crosses her arms — her lighted cufflinks glaring out.

  "Good to know." I enter the opening doors with a spin.

  Claire drops her arms and accompanies me in. "How is your study coming along?"

  "Good, I'd have to say." I look away from the reflection of her.

  Claire rolls her eyes up and nods a few times. "I’ll not be busy until 9, today.”

  "Is it okay if I stop by and distribute my survey?" I try looking for anything interesting up on the ceiling but just see the convex mirror above.

  "Sure, see you then."

  Claire rushes out of the elevator like always. With the survey figured out, what’s left? The classes and tech. Hopefully, I garner enough subjects by next week. Just fifteen joined in the first week of the 2-week window. Gary’s gadabout laugh guides me over to him. What can be so funny?

  "Hi, Gary." An empathetic smile follows suit.

  "Oh, it's you," Gary says, still laughing.

  A moment of puzzlement. "What is so funny?"

  "Just watch this dream."

  I pull over my chair, sit down, and we watch the dream. I come into an apartment with groceries, putting them on a table. Something slips under my foot. I go out the window and struggle to stand on a fire escape. Slips follow everywhere I feel stable again… and again. I grab the rail for another try. My hands meet a rail covered in banana peel, where I slip again and tumbling down the stairs. It ends there.

  How can that make him laugh so hard? "It isn't that funny.”

  "It wasn't the first time for me either."

  "It seems almost scary in a murderous way." Qualifying my answer?

  "If you watch it a few times, it becomes less scary and funnier."

  I just humor his ideas. It’s just a sim recording. "I guess I can see it now. Just add a comedy sound track and it's all set."

  "How is your project coming?" Gary switches roles like shoes.

  "Okay. I just have a lot to do." My okays mean okay, unlike some other people.

  Gary disconnects me from his desk after just a month of membership. "I'll let you get back to it."

  The cold shoulder disappears with rush of hurry. Shoot, almost 9. I better see Claire before it’s too late. The survey can wait, but I should fit it in if I can. I stop by my desk to get it. Also, ask about the number of people who entered the study.

  "Hi, Claire, do you still have enough time?"

  She continues hurriedly. "Yes. Give me the survey."

  "There you go." I put the pad on the counter and slide it over.

  She checks the length, one page. A ream of pages comes out from behind the counter, out of which she counts ten. "Okay, here is a stack of pads."

  "What is different with these pads?"

  Claire puts the survey pads on the counter and presses an invisible button. "They just allow editing without a tech link. I know that all pads should work this way, they just don't." Most likely a frequent question.

  "I can do the transferring and copying." I collect the pads and align them.

  "Actually you don’t need to. I will have them loaded soon." She looks at the clock and slows down. "Okay."

  "Just come to the computer and sign out the pads." Claire dismounts the counter chair and holds it for me.

  "Sure." I take the seat and a small sticky appears with a checkout form I fill out. I get down and come back around. "I was just wondering how to get more people to apply."

  "Do not worry about it. Somehow, the studies always get a good number of participants. You cannot be so concerned with what ifs."

  That triggers my memory of a conversation from a few weeks ago during the tech support appointment that first night. She doesn’t do anything halfway. That must trigger some worry for someone like her. "I'm not, if anyone it's you."

  She comes across and right next to me. She takes one step back so her wide puffy skirt doesn’t touch me. "Seriously, why?"

  I laugh, turning to her. "You are so conservative. You don't do anything fun, ever."

  She glares at me to overcome her reddening face while it dissipates. "You are talking about that article. Just because I care more about stuff does not make me a worrier."

  I push my advantage. "Give me an example, if you're so sure about it."

  "Take my hospital stay. If I was just thinking about what ifs, I would have had more issues recovering."

  "Ha! From what I know, they didn't give you much choice."

  She retreats, walks a few feet away, and turns back to me. "I had to devote myself to getting better, without thinking about what I was returning to."

  "Say for example, you just worried about doubts, how would things have turned out?" We hear someone enter.

  "We’ll pick this up some other time."

  "See you then." I doge Zhou and leave the door wide open.

  I put the stack of pads in my desk, the surveys all finished. What are the basics of teaching? An outline comes to me first. The four main lobes of the brain (frontal, parietal, occipital, and temporal), other parts (cerebellum, medulla oblongata), and pictures. Next, list the types of cells in the nervous system.

  (—)

  Let me look at tech triggers during a break from the outline. I start going through the possible triggers (some cue that can activate tech), in this case images or videos. Something you will not see just by going about daily life. The first one features a sunrise on a strange landscape, everything redder, colors actually reversed, still beautiful, just different. I inspect a few more. The last one offers a slow pulsing light. The thought of okay passes through my head, and I'm back at home. What happened?

  I lost an hour or so, which doesn't make any sense. Everything seems the same at the office after returning. What is happening to me? After I looked at the last trigger, it happened. Better not look at it again. I learn more about that trigger though. The description says a great trigger. Prior uses include experimental medical procedures and tech research, especially by government agencies. Still nonsense. I try to forget the mystery for a while, at least. I see Dr. Mekova, Gary, and Claire all eating.

  (—)

  Lunch was pretty uneventful with everyone ogling Mekova's studies. No new updates on the investigation of the office break in. Gary's new study focuses on impacts of dream content over awake time.

  Empty Promises

  Fri 6/9/17 1:17 p.m.

  How to present the info remains a sticking point. Most teachers just put up the stuff that needs copying down. The students pay attention to the teacher and transcribe the notes at the same time. I have to find a better way.

  The hard part, how to improve. Just showing pictures and talking brings up the question of giving enough time to write required notes. First, can they understand what I say? Second, can they remember long enough to note it down? Still no good.

  Just show the important stuff with the pictures and say the other stuff. They just stop listening to the lecture. They see the important info posted somewhere. Understanding reduces along with app
lications. Just stuck, again.

  I look around and see Mekova. Why am I always calling her Mekova? She exited a room along the wall that I never noticed before. Mekova — Irena might just help me with elucidating the class. She taught for years, 5. I pass the room she just came out of, Authorized Personnel Only: Genetic Mod Room.

  We meet just before the last row of desks. "Hi, Irena, I was just about to come to your office."

  "I have to check the progress of my DNA mod." She offers to walk with me to her office.

  I accept and start asking my questions. "Sure, I'm just kind of stuck with how to teach people."

  "I have few ideas, I can share with you."

  "I thought so. You were a professor, right?" For the first time today, I notice her clothes, a pink paisley button down with the now characteristic cutout and a pleated skirt with a sheer green under skirt just an inch or 2 longer.

  "Yes," Irena says as we get to her office.

  "So, what can you tell me?"

  "I can suggest stuff based on how I used to do it. I gave the students a copy of the notes after they got to the class. This gives them more time to just absorb the lecture, without having to be concerned about taking notes. Of course, the students who need to take notes still do." She settles in the desk chair.

  I sit against the back wall on a displaced chair from across the desk. "Let me just process that. You give the notes in class. They have to attend the class to get the notes. Otherwise, why even attend the class? I'm not enthusiastic with that solution. Do you have any other ideas?"

  "That is all I have, I'm afraid. It has been a long time since I stopped teaching."

  A long time, but she’s just 5 years older than me, 29. "I'll think of something, I'm sure."

  "About the investigation, I actually did get some news. This convo should be kept in the strictest confidence, especially with Gary always around. If Kiros, Gary's father takes interest, this could escalate rapidly. Claire found an unknown access id on my computer." She digs around the desk in search of something.

  "That is great news. We'll finally know who went into your office."

  She extracts a creased pad that smooths out as she slides back and spins around on the chair. "It's good, if you don't consider the fact the id can't be traced to a person."

  "What are they going to do about it?"

  Irena fingers that necklace. "I'm not sure what is going to happen next. I imagine they will try some other avenues of investigation. Here is the report Claire sent up." She holds it out to me.

  "Good. Let me take a minute to look it over." I extend my hand to receive the pad with the black letters SECURITY running down the side.

  "Okay, there isn't much there."

  I start reading it:

  Day submitted:

  Wednesday

  Loc submitted:

  Mount. Overlook

  Case: #5538-2541-3641

  Date: 6/7/17

  Backtrace performed by Katarina Genovese

  Results: Unknown id found

  A backtrace completed to determine if sensitive info went to an outside party. On the morning of the seventh, an intruder gained access to the office of Dr. Irena Mekova, Director of Research, Stephens Institute of Neuroscience Research and Treatment. The backtrace revealed that an unauthorized id gained access. The retrieved id is 452-686-0505. As of 6/9/17, the id cannot be identified.

  I look up to her. "It looks like just bad news."

  "At least, they could find an id."

  "What is the next step?" I return the pad to her.

  "Not much, just wait for the final investigation report."

  "Thank you for the assist. I have one more question. How are you mutating the cells?"

  She deposits the pad onto the desk and turns back to answer. "That room I just came out of is designed to contain a special kind of tech. It does the changes to the DNA, in this case adding select sequences that alter the behavior of individual cells. As you probably know, these modifications remain almost unchanged among multicellular animals. Any changes on the cellular level won’t make it through to larger organisms. The containment ensures only the targeted cells are affected."

  That makes sense. If you change the properties of the cell wall, that doesn’t affect a unicellular organism much but causes huge issues in plants where extracellular communication is even more important. “That sounds very interesting."

  "I hope you have good luck with your study. Remember, you are going with Gary to present next week."

  The memory of Gary including me on a casual group message returns to me. It stated a convention takes place on June twelfth, next Monday. I replied with a contingent yes, if someone hadn’t already accepted. "I almost let it slip my mind."

  She returns to work, and I leave her to it. Irena's advice doesn't help much. I just have to figure out what works for me.

  (—)

  I head into the elevator hallway for home. Claire walks with some guy a little ahead. I decide to just go to the elevator, the only way to go. An uncomfortable situation at the elevator feels inevitable. We all gather there. She is with Zhou Chen. I try not to look at them.

  "Hey, Conor," Claire says.

  I look away from Zhou in an A-line skirt and focus on Claire.

  She wears a short skirt suspending a loose weave of black knotted strands reaching the floor. The same top from before now with a more open spade shaped neckline.

  "I didn't see you two." A little more awkward than expected.

  "We are going to see Ian and Corrine, from a few days ago," Claire adds, as we all enter the elevator, even though we are going opposite ways.

  "They were fun to hang around with. They are also good at making sims." I fill in the blanks for Zhou and immediately regret it.

  "Claire has the best friends. I'm sure you know that," Zhou says.

  A long silence ensues after Zhou's last, almost rude comment. He intimates I don't even know Claire. I surely know her more than him. "Have a good time. I'm going home to get some more work done," I say as I get off the downward spiral.

  "We will," Zhou's voice fades as I walk away.

  Offer Tendered

  Fri 6/9/17 6:09 p.m.

  So Zhou Chen and Claire, didn't see that coming. I just want to go to bed, with a long day ahead. Everything needs packing before my trip. My apartment greets me into its dark space, offering only the lights from the street. A dark figure towers halfway along the window. Who is that person? Why are they in my apartment?

  "Hold on a second," a deep gravelly voice says.

  Everything around me slides across the room to him — like someone installed a conveyor belt without telling me — parting everything in the way. "I'm calling security. You better leave before they get here." Please just leave. I don't know what else to do. Even my own apartment is helping him. The idea of calling security comes up as my only option. If I leave, what's to stop him from coming with me? Where can I go, anyway?

  "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. If that was the case, you wouldn't even know I was here."

  Chills. "I want you to leave, right know." What else can I do? Calm down. Just talk with security.

  "Don't bother calling. I am security."

  Finally, someone hangs up. I search for something I can do. What? What can I possibly do? He won't allow me call security. Who else can I call? Claire? What can she do? She is with Zhou. Gary? Yes, call Gary. I start calling.

  "Mr. Abby, please take a seat. We wouldn't want you to succumb to the stress."

  Patronizing attitude. "I want you to leave."

  "I'll make a deal with you. I hope to have established the fact I'm not here to hurt you. After, I have said what I've come to say, you won't have to see me again. Will you listen to what I have to offer your?"

  Coddling. I might as well give him a chance, so I decide to sit down on the window seat. He sits on the table dragged over with me. The brim of his hat renders his face hidden, even now from my low perch and the pearly lum
inescence of moonlight.

  "Okay, what do you have to say?" My voice takes on a new cadence that can only be described as confidence from a place of strength I didn’t know I had.

  "You can help your government."

  "Who are you, again?" I just recite from an imaginary rolodex of what info I’m missing. Who are you? Why should I listen to you? What are you asking? All not exactly in that order.

  "I'm government Agent 2645. Here's my badge." He takes out a metal keychain of a 3-D earth wrapped by a cube from a hidden pocket. He keeps it on the table, where it glows from the light above or by itself.

  I keep looking at it as it starts to move. The thing before my eyes melts away — forgotten — leaving me with the idea he is Agent 2645, utterly convinced and not quite sure why.

  "You are in a unique position at the Stephens Institute, a cutting edge research facility. You can see how that would be helpful."

  I speak louder. "I ask again, why does this matter?" I'm starting to get aggravated over the undue uncertainty earlier. He better get to the point and quick.

  "Some unnamed third parties can be exploited with any info you provide. After the info is published, counter-measures can be developed."

  Ambiguous bullshit. "How does this concern me?"

  He crosses his legs bridging the gap between us, easy for someone over 2 meters. He returns the badge to his pocket while it lights through the slits between his fingers. "Having a governmental favor could help you out. As you should know, you're the primary suspect in the trespass of Dr. Mekova's office. Whether that is indeed the case, is irrelevant for the purposes of this conversation. If you were to be convicted, your life would become much more complicated than it already is."

  How is my life complicated? "So you are saying I'm going to be convicted of trespassing, if I don't help you get what you want?"