Remember

by Karthikeyan, Girish

  Some people will end up getting the tech, and the others get nothing. I take out the node. Now, wait for a participant to show up.

  Someone comes and settles on the lab chair. I put the node over the outside of his forearm (accessory cephalic vein). It starts dispensing.

  "Let me just get some background info, okay?"

  "Sure." He sits there like a stick, permitting just his mouth to move.

  "I have your name. Yuri Yana-kos-kov right?" Did I pronounce that right?

  "Yes."

  "What is your interest in the study?"

  "Mostly, just the free class,” He pokes at his temple. “I've been constantly trying to improve my knowledge on a wide range of subjects."

  I press both sides of the node to release it. "You're all done. Thank you for answering my questions. When you have finished your survey, just leave it on that side table, in the conference room."

  Yuri jumps to his feet. "Not a problem."

  (—)

  The next group will enter around 1. I take a break on the balcony. It hangs outside the conference room sliding door. Everything seems better out here. In fact, the first time I've been happy, since the dinner out with Gary's friends. Everything just makes a little more sense, clarity. I can just escape my worries to be out here. With a slight sadness, I go back inside.

  As I enter the office for my lunch, Claire, Gary, and Dr. Mekova are already eating at a conference table. I get my food and join them. They are having a convo about the trip

  "The highlight was meeting up with some of my old friends. We had a great time at 'Masala', one of my father's restaurants," Gary says. He scoops more salmon out of the parchment paper structure and puts it on his salad.

  "It has been ages, since I've seen any of my friends in person. We each live in such geographically different locals." Irena looks wistfully upward at some long remembered memory.

  "As for me, I see them about once a week," Claire answers. Claire reaches into the mysterious messenger bag and pulls out a container of trail mix with lots of different nuts.

  "That is good," Irena says. She pierces a vegetable chunk the jumped from her devastated lasagna with an unusually harpoon-like knife.

  Knowing Gary, he has covered everything else. "The food was also fantastic. I was surprised it wasn't that spicy… Hmm… Irena, how is your study going?" I put Irena on the spot.

  "It is going well. The first batch of cells is ready to be tested. I'll be spending a lot of time down in the basement, with the animals," Irena replies, more than happy with the isolation.

  "What about you, Gary?" Claire managed to open the snap-top container with one hand and without any difficulty. Now she sprinkles the mix into her leafy burrito before each bite.

  "I've come up with something. Can positive or negative dreams have a measurable and cumulative effect over time?" Gary responds in a dryness yet utilized. He starts chewing his wild salad of salmon, juniper berries, blueberries, dandelion, and various small green leaves for a sparse lunch compared to his normal.

  "That will give me a chance to explore AI sim. The AI's can give a realistic sensory experience of a situation, and they want to do it." Claire's look expresses something, strangely, like glee. “Does anyone want some?” She slides her trail mix around. We all take some of her homemade treat.

  "That could come in handy." Gary leans back with satisfaction and loudly crunches on the sesame seeds, roasted peanuts, and rolled oats crispy as potato chips.

  "My study is going good. Half of the subjects have been takes in." My culinary expertise extends to ramen with dehydrated vegetables over a campfire. The pasta in front of me is a fusion of Italian and Indian with the spice of chili powder, the tanginess of parmesan, and the nutty sweetness of roasted spaghetti squash.

  "How are your preparations for your class going?" Irena inquires.

  "Good. I planned almost 3 weeks out."

  Closure

  Thurs 6/15/17 4:36 p.m.

  At the end of the day, I revel the hour without any subjects. I house all the surveys in my desk, and assemble the data upload. The computer processes all the data and classifies the subjects based on their levels of happiness. The two groups on opposite ends of the spectrum stay controls. The middle groups make up the two test groups. One with the tech and one without compete for results.

  I can't help thinking about the chance of working for the government. Lying to people keeps coming up in my head. I distance myself from everyone in my life. My parents disappeared without a trace. They've taken vacations longer than a month, before. I just can't find any sign they even exist. What is happening to everyone? My job at the university, I can't locate anyone I worked with, let alone the university. What is going on here? Maybe the government could help me find out.

  The gaping holes leave me unsettled, but I push that feeling away. Do I have to betray anyone in the process? Dr. Mekova stuck her neck out to help me and I took advantage of it. Then again, I'm just giving an interested party a preview. The studies enter the public eye a week or two after I remand the content to them anyway. It amounts to just a few weeks. It doesn’t change anything too much. No one gets hurt.

  That reminds me, I should talk with Dr. Mekova. Did she learn who did it? The break-in went on the cams, right? Claire found an id that accessed Dr. Mekova's computer. The techie or someone just needs to cross-reference the id with a master list. I hope Irena gets some closure.

  She sits at her desk, looking stressed. At the moment, she messages her temples and stares at her computer. This reminds me how much time changes things. She crammed an array of pads, beakers, test tub holders, pens, and even the fine dust found in the labs onto the once almost obsessively clean glass surface. She can’t lift a finger to that keyboard, so I accept the window ledge near her desk.

  "Hi, Dr. Mekova."

  She jolts back at my presence and chokes out, "Thanks for checking in on me."

  I take a seat in the chair pulled up to the right edge of her desk, to be eye to eye. "You definitely look better than last week." A few days ago she burst out crying during lunch over dropping her plate. Another time it was after a call from security.

  She considers everything around her. "Yes, I am. The final report on the break-in came through. It seems more vague, than anything. Do you want to see it?"

  "Sure.” I take the official looking pad she gives me after some searching.

  (—)

  Day submitted:

  Wednesday

  Loc submitted:

  Mount. Overlook

  Case: #5538-2541-3641

  Date: 6/7/17

  Backtrace performed by Katarina Genovese

  Results: Unknown id found

  (—)

  "Why can't they just give me a straight answer? Come on. They must be able to find who did it, right?" Dr. Mekova asks.

  "Yes." I respond out of hand, still focused on reading.

  (—)

  The actual person/s responsible for the trespass of Dr. Mekova's office could not be found at this time. All avenues of investigation led to dead ends. The computer

  (—)

  "They have so many tools at their disposable. The investigation should have come to a swift and definitive conclusion. Don't you think?" Dr. Mekova asks another question.

  "I also think so.” This time an unintended ruefulness edges my voice.

  (—)

  The computer memory access backtrace revealed an id: 452-686-0505. It had no links to any known event or person/s. Reviewing the cam footage surrounding the incident shows no persons within the office in question. Per Dr. Mekova's insistence, no cam was placed within the office of question. No trace evidence of interest was found. The investigation reveals something about the person/s responsible. They

  (—)

  "I didn't become a research scientist for the bureaucratic run-around," Dr. Mekova says.

  "Me too."

  (—)

  They possessed intimate knowledge of the Stephens
Institute of Neuroscience Research and Treatment building. They attended governmental or private training on covert entry. The following allows a detailed overview of the investigation.

  (—)

  She looks for my response.

  I ask the question that comes to me first. "Why did you go into research?"

  "Actually, I wanted to go into medicine. I eventually figured out this is the place for me."

  "Then, why the choice of medicine?"

  She neatly places her hands in the narrow space between the edge of the desk and the flock of clutter, fingers interlaced. "It all starts with my father. One day out of the blue, he couldn't wake up. We got him to the hospital, where we couldn't get a straight answer. The doctors just kept ordering tests. When asked what is going on, they gave an answer way over our heads."

  Not wholly unheard of. "Hmm… What did you do?"

  She stretches her fingers and slides away from the desk. "I ended up researching what the doctors said. It was informative, mostly scary. The next day, everything they said made more sense. My dad wasn't that bad off. They just tested out possible treatments before giving him something. That was a good moment, considering. Everything was going to be okay."

  "What happened to your dad?"

  "After a week, or so in the hospital, he made a full recovery. His tech was the true culprit."

  "What happened, exactly?"

  She waves my question away but answers. "He had something called Tech Survival Syndrome (TSS). A change occurred telling the tech to expand its coverage at any cost. It is unheard of, caused by interfacing with antiquated tech. In my dad's case, he loved his old cottage."

  My medical bones are teased with a firsthand account. "How is something like that treated?"

  "They take a sample of the tech and subject it to various treatments. They tried different shutdown chemicals and different tech to attack the issue. The doctors finally settled on a piece of tech that could overwhelm the TSS."

  "That is a good story. I never thought that was a possibility. It's good your dad made it out just fine."

  "I’m glad to share."

  Recruitment

  Thurs 6/15/17 5:49 p.m.

  I leave work. All the implanted tech passed a function test, and the lesson readied. The class info needs delivery. The class runs from 4 to 6, two times a week.

  What to do about the Agent's offer? Secrecy amounts to a minuscule annoyance with no close friends. Nothing has to change by giving that number a ring.

  Wait a sec. What about hurting anyone else, unintended consequence? How do they plan to use it? Other governments isn’t possible with just one global government. That means other groups. They want the studies a few weeks early. Those few weeks mean a lot. Waiting another week deciding is just too much, better to get it over with and agree.

  "Hello, thank you for calling Restaurant Indulgence. What is your indulgence today?"

  My hasty response of wrong number comes forth. A canned farewell returns. That's odd. I check the card, just what it says. Anyway, I decide to call up dinner and a chocolate cake. I start munching the cake first. I hear a message.

  Good, you called. We would like you to look at the latest studies from…

  I stop eating. The message stops there. It must be stored in the cake. I continue eating it.

  the latest studies from Dr. Stephens and Dr. Chen.

  The message is in the cake.

  Their latest studies are of interest to us. Please allow enough time for your tech to capture them. Just use your computer, and we will get the data you have for us. The required info for this setup is being transferred to your tech. as I speak. It auto-captures the studies we are looking for. Thanks for your help.

  (—)

  The next morning rounds out a rough night. I kept summoning worst case outcomes of stealing. Just lying in bed, unable to sleep does nothing, might as well get an early start. In the downstairs lobby, a reception desk, a fusion restaurant (Epicenter), clothing store (Chameleon), and the coffee shop (Oasis) fill the space. I get in line for coffee just at 6. Four people in line stand before me. The coffee options await perusal.

  All espresso, each option differs by amount of coffee and milk. A latte — something heard of — meets approval. A breakfast muffin joins along. The cost levied stands at 0.1 meals. I translocate the coffee and muffin to the sugar and cream area. Today’s news addition already resides on my tech. The coffee needs a spoon of sugar. The ceramic cup holds the muffin on an extra wide saucer. Go to the outdoor seating.

  I take a seat off to one side in the almost empty eating courtyard. Just a few solitary people sit in various locations. Each table exhibits a different flower. A light purple flower with yellow stamens beckons companionship. The coffee meets my mouth creamy, hot, with just a hint of bitter, a perfect counter-point to the soft, sweet raspberry muffin. The front-page article echoes deep-seated fears for any covert agency.

  THE DEBATE RAGES ON: MANDATORY TECH?

  The second week of debate ended in a stalemate. Two opposing views immerged within the Governing Group of Citizens (GGC). Thomas Winters, the leader of Knowledge on Everything (KOE) and Sylvia Turnbuckle, the head of the Deep Thinkers Movement (DTM) lead the arguments.

  The act — introduced for consideration a third time — called for the addition of tech id to the national citizen database. The reactions among members of the GGC were wide, from total outrage to vigorous support.

  Thomas Winters, entrenched as always, spoke to the subject just yesterday. He was quoted saying, "Turning a blind eye to governmental overreach is a grave misstep. This is one step too far. What is next? The mandate of cam in every residence?" He solidified his position with a large backing outside the GGC.

  Sylvia Turnbuckle joined the opposition on Thursday and surprisingly showed her devotion to the cause. She submitted to become the first private citizen in the new tech national database. Mrs. Turnbuckle said, "This is a truly important and effective means to stop criminal activity in its tracks. I'm proud to be one of the first entrants into this momentous database. Leading by example is the only way."

  The debate was to continue into next week — victory or defeat yet determined. For more in depth analysis and continuing coverage visit us at Omnipresent News.

  Compulsive

  Fri 6/16/17 8:17 a.m.

  I make it to the office, just as any usual day. Uncovering the requested studies cuts in before anything else. Having garnered access to them removes all suspicion from my wandering eyes. Gary's study appears first for a scan through. 'The Positive and Negative Attributes of REM Dreams' — (the one I helped with) somewhat useful, his next study even more so. On to Zhou Chen.

  A quickening heartbeat leads me to it. Dr. Chen just assisted. 'Selective Activation of Neural Pathways to Improve Mental Response and Attention Span' definitely useful, reading commences.

  (—)

  In general, medical advances struggle to improve mental alertness. Non-medical approaches show the greatest effectiveness. These methods include meditation, mental exercise, and building up tolerances. This is a possible new medical approach to deal with the issues of mental fatigue. The first targets are attention span and response time.

  The basis involves the use of additional neural pathways. A selective approach adds connections, where they are needed. This alters some pathways to reward attention and response time. The incentive is in the form of happiness. In addition to creating an initial improvement, the ability improves over time.

  (—)

  Both studies rest in the plexus of slow moving blood, awaiting upload once home. Before starting anything, I want to talk with Claire.

  Why, just want to. We converse every day with Dr. Mekova, and Gary. For some reason, that just isn't enough. What can I give for a good reason? Everything with tech is going well. What else, asking about the lesson? I go to Claire's office.

  I find her working at the counter. "Hi, Claire. Are you busy?"

  She looks a
t me around the floating screen that only she sees. "Lucky for you, I just happen to be free at the moment." Today her choices seem familiar, but I'm not sure where from (a silk button down with the top two or three open, a blank necklace, and pants of a slightly thicker material and tighter than usual).

  "I was just wondering about something." I go around to the end of the counter and face her.

  She turns to me. "Well?" Impatient tapping of nails on glass follow this statement.

  "What can I do to make a more immersive learning experience?"

  "Let me think for a sec —,” The tapping ceases, “I got it. You can use sims. Do you want me to show you how?"

  "That would be great." Good, help.

  "Have a seat at this desk. I'll show you a finished sim."

  The back space features two glass topped desks cluttered with tech of various size and small containers of pink goo. She pulls up something on her tech. I sit at one of the low desks and wait for the example, a net map. It looks so unbelievably complex, defying imagination, still an unorganized mess of colored lines.

  "Are you ready to try the sim?"

  Longing for an insightful taste, "Yes."

  Everything changes. The street beckons me for a splat of impact, once thrown outdoors by sim. I land among a few connections of different colors running through and intersecting on this ground level perch. I pick up one of the gigantic warm pieces of spaghetti to see the data moving through. The destination and starting point become apparent with the grasp. A small jump takes me to an overhead view. Everything turns black and I look over the desk.