Remember

by Karthikeyan, Girish

We walk down the hallway. I need to know why. What is she protecting me from? There isn’t anything dangerous here. I don’t know why she is trying to save me or whatever this is. We aren’t that close, just friends. Do we spend too much time together? We work in the same office and live on the same floor, neighbors. What about the job and drinks with Ian and Corrine? Friends fit into that. She must be doing whatever this is for some reason. I need to know. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “Isn’t that obvious by now?”

  I have no idea what to expect. I just know that everything stands still. We stop walking. Claire comes close to me. Actually she pulls my arm towards her along with me. We get closer and closer. I can only see the lights from her helmet, nothing but blinding light. Nothing. My eyes instinctively close. I don’t do anything for a split second. Claire kisses me on the lips. What? It turns more into a quick peck I can’t react to. I try anyway. I don’t want to look desperate. I straighten my face before she notices. I open my eyes to Claire walking away with my arm in tow. I follow her down the hall.

  I don’t know what to think, except I should have seen it coming. I didn’t. There were so many signs. She visited me every week, seemed to look forward to each visit, and wanted to see me more. The fact I didn't remember anything about her. More painful than I can imagine. We spent almost every minute together at the Institute. I like her company. After that first mission or the second one, I needed to see her, needed. Claire walks fast now with the help of the suit. I struggle to maintain a fast run, despite my profuse sweating. I’m such an idiot!

  This isn’t the first time. We kissed before. Something about how I feel, too familiar. The mix of emotions. I feel confused, happy, excited, interested, enthralled, hungry, and above all confused. She pretends it meant nothing the first time. I know better. She wanted to kiss me that night, and she made up an excuse to do it. Stop deluding yourself. Yet, I could tell something was off. I know why. Claire is Jenna. They are the same person with a physical cover as Jenna. Claire is Agent 7429. She knows everything about me, more than anyone else, and she helped me deal with the death of Kiros in whatever way was possible as Claire. That was why I felt connected to Jenna the first time we met.

  I have to show her how I feel. I stop both of us, pull my wrist out of her grasp, and push her back into the wall. She lets me do every step of it. I go in for the kiss. She knows this is coming from the start. Like an open embrace to a warm hug, my lips meet hers. I have to show everything I’m feeling right now. I show how much I love and care for her in this one moment. The touch of her skin, the longer I’m in contact, the softer it feels. I just touched the tiniest drop of a well. I could live in this feeling for an eternity and still want more. She pushes me away.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Claire says coolly.

  She holds my hand this time. We keep soldiering on, reach the doors as they open, and step into the cool night. The darkness is upon us — a swirling, inky blackness ever present in its natural environment. The black fog fills every visible space with the leprous mist. I feel myself getting lost in it — the air choked with it, our cover. Claire's suit luminescence cuts through the darkness provided I stick close. We travel down this corridor to some unseen loc.

  We arrive at a rope descending from above, Claire grabbing the rope with one hand and me with the other. Her arm circles around me as a strap extends from her wrist around to her back. The suit is of a supple padded material — grippy. We move up through the darkness to what waits above.

  New Lives/Lies

  Mon 1/29/18 8:35 p.m.

  We get to a hole at the end of the rope and pull through. The darkness stays out as a trapdoor covers the exit. We land gently on the floor, and rope goes into the ceiling. We are in an IMMMR. The round room shares enough of a similarity. Windows encircle us, of the swirling mist outside. The craft sends a bright light out, into the gloom. Benches of lustrous steel and dark wood wait in every direction. The centerpiece of this empty space resolves to the command center, a place for pilot and co-pilot. The gleaming steel forms a platform and two seats, pivoting from one point in the ceiling. The chairs face us in their barred nature. The command area, wrapped in a teardrop shaped glass sheath of almost nonexistent thickness seemingly defying physics acts as a natural barrier to entry.

  “You can sit with me in the pod.”

  We go around to the front of the pod. I do the same as Claire. A gentle touch on the glass melts away a section fitting our respective entrances. We climb onto the platform, move to the back of the pod, and have a seat. The point of our entrance disappears. The seats turn front as the IMMMR powers up.

  “If you want to look out, keep your palms facing down. In just a few minutes we should be off.”

  The smoke starts to clear and show something beyond. I do as she says. The seat already secures me in place with straps. Everything disappears — replaced by a view of everything outside. Below the last of our cover draws into the ship for our departure and the sun returns. The buildings surround on every side at this height. The evening sun reflects off watery glass windows a thousand times over. The memory center is but a memory with its limited perspective, blind to the world all around.

  My chance to get answers for my questions.

  Claire just appears next to me with her seat. Her helmet is off stowed somewhere away. Claire runs through a set of orange menus that appear far faster than my eyes or mind can follow. Claire finishes with her work. We return back to the pod, though we never go anywhere. The pod moves down as the ship flies up through the air on some programmed path.

  I ask some questions that have been bothering me. “Claire, there are a few things I need to know.”

  Claire surveys the otherwise empty ship. “We have all the time you need.”

  My lips flatten out. “Why did you rescue me?”

  “If you just want to kiss me, go ahead,” Claire says casually.

  My face turns warm. “Not that I don’t want to, but I mean what were you rescuing me from?”

  A sigh. “We should start from the beginning. What is the last thing you remember from outside?”

  I chew at my lower lip and force myself to stop. “I remember killing Irena and getting arrested for it. I was getting some info from her tech.”

  Claire turns to me. “I know you didn’t kill Irena. That was all a manipulation by the Security Division. The situation with Kiros convinced the Division you are not fit to be an Agent."

  Claire stares at my eyes, without blinking for I don't know how long. "They can’t tolerate Agents freezing on the job. They framed you for the murder of Irena. They wanted her out of the picture. You made it to trial. It looked like you could win it for a while. Mr. Vintage did a great job in court. The verdict fell where the Division wanted, guilty."

  Claire zeros in on me. "The memory center is just a verification method to prove the verdict. The memories of all residents are wiped and reconstructed to get a confession.” Claire forehead stays wrinkled for a while.

  I think everything over with a little help from my tech's recording. “That was a lot. How do you know I didn’t do it?”

  Claire smiles with a hint of mischief and looks down. “The first thing is I did that to Irena. How else could I get the data you extracted? Did you feel any remorse or guilt after you did it or remembered doing it?”

  Now that I think about it. “No.”

  Claire smiles bright. “I didn’t think so.”

  Wait a sec. “How could they possibly win the trial with my innocence?”

  Claire holds the side of her face with a large, gloved hand and rests her elbow on the handle. “They have an array of ways to do it. It is usually a bartering system. The Division finds something someone wants and trades that for a guilty verdict in this case.”

  “That doesn’t answer one important question. How do I remember doing it?!”

  Her face grows taught with disappointment or regret. Can't decide which. “That’s something you will
have to live with. It was just an implanted memory they gave you at some point. After the memory wipe and recovery, it is now a part of you.”

  What choice do I have? “Is Irena dead? For some reason I just don’t believe it anymore.”

  Claire chuckles. “She isn’t dead. I worked with DIT to relocate her for an ongoing assignment. I don’t know where she is, but she’s out there. I don’t think DIT would have continued helping me if I did anything to Irena. They are a little sensitive.”

  “That’s a relief. Why did you wait so long to leave the Division? You could have escaped at any time before this.” Escaped?

  An expressive yes from Claire. “You actually helped me find DIT. DIT, thankfully, set up a meet with you. I followed you and waited for the meeting to end. Then I went in and made a deal to get you out of Division control. That’s how this all started.”

  I smile for the first time in days. “That worked out well. How did they fit into this rescue?”

  “DIT provided the intel and something I couldn’t get myself. The ship and almost everything else has been liberated from the Division. DIT gave me wipe tech to scrub everything clean of tracking. That all happened yesterday. I just hid out for the intervening 24 hours and rescued you.” Claire rises up to her feet and walks around the back of the pod.

  I warm my hands that sweated and chilled. “I know almost everything, now. What’s the play here?”

  Claire kneels in front of me (facing me at near head height) with her helmet under her arm and holds my hand. “We disappear. We can swap out our tech and change our faces. The procedure is painful, but it has to be done. That way it is impossible for anyone to follow us. The ship has set a destination to aid in our escape. If you don’t want to do this, now is the time to tell me. We are just a few minutes out.” Claire stands, towering a foot over me.

  No question. “I definitely want to do this, no question. Jail is the only other option. I keep wondering about something, why are the Division and DIT interested in me? It makes no sense.”

  Claire sits back down with her helmet in her lap. “That is something I’ve been avoiding. If you want to know, I’ll tell you." A deep breath.

  "The biggest prob facing covert entities like DIT is the recruitment of potential Agents. The average person alive today shows no interest in that kind of unscrupulous work. The Agencies are resorting to genetic screening and in some cases genetic mods to find people. That makes it an expensive enterprise all around with the bribes, agent placement, and equipment. The solution to the prob is you. You are from around 400 years ago. That wasn’t clear. Your memories and the person you are is based on a 400 year old neural scan. That is all imprinted on a physical body.” Claire furrows her brow.

  Don't think too much about it, until I know everything. “That doesn’t make much sense. I’m an actual person. Why don’t you explain the whole process?”

  Claire rests her hands over the helmet and fiddles with the edge of visor. “In the year 2017, you had a car crash. Don’t ask me what a car is, you’ll probably know better than me. You couldn’t be saved. A neural scan made of you somehow survived till now, 2417. Irena used this scan as a starting point and updated it to fit in. Her memory reconstruction method was used. That is you.”

  I died in 2017? “I need some time with this… Who am I? I don’t know! That is the problem.” I bark out these words on impulse and immediately regret doing it. Claire seems more surprised than scared. I try again, “Is this who I am? Right here.”

  “Conor you are the same person you have always been. Nothing they did can change that.” Claire tries to comfort me by holding my hand securely. Her words seem hollow and false. “You have just grown and changed with time like everybody else. The events that don’t make sense are from your past. New memories are what you should focus on. Looking back isn’t going to help anyone. We can move forward together.”

  I violently pull my hand away. “I can’t believe this. You could have given me the truth from the beginning. No! You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You are no better. No better! Why should I listen to a thing you say?!”

  Claire looks from her empty hand up to my face with a pained expression I can barely withstand. “Conor, I’ve always wanted to tell you. I just couldn’t do it. The Division was constantly monitoring both of us. At the first opportunity, I told you everything. I had to wait for cover before you could know anything.”

  I swallow the ball in my throat without luck. “I don’t think we have anything more to say.”

  “I will be upstairs checking the supplies. If you need anything, find me up there.” Claire tosses up her helmet, stands, catches it, and stalks away in a blur.

  Claire leaves the command pod, stands at an empty section of wall, and triggers a set of stairs to slide out with a hand pressed against the wall. She quickly ascends the stairs and disappears above.

  Should I forgive her when she comes back? Some part of me fully understands everything Claire did, but still. She didn’t blatantly lie with a falsehood but a lie of omission, nothing more. Is that really a big difference? It is the difference. If someone forgets to mention a small detail, does that make them a liar? No. At which point does it occur? Is it when the omission is intentional? Or is it when the amount is just too much? I forgave the lie about Claire being Jenna — much worse than this. I didn’t question forgiving her for a sec. This is exactly the same. She was just protecting me.

  Does the reasoning matter? It does to Claire, so I should think about it. Claire says we were always monitored by the Division. That she just protected me by keeping me in the dark. The Division had access to my tech after the first mission. They might have installed a monitoring tool to watch me. Claire made an argument like that. I can't believe it. During the trial was a good time to tell me. What about the jail monitoring systems, cam and other stuff? They track everything at a place like that. I don’t know how I know that. At the Center is an even better choice. Did I trust her enough from the beginning? I might not have believed a thing she said. I still don’t, not really, figuring it out for myself isn’t enough either. The whisper in the visiting room was something that doesn’t match all this caution — a whisper, vague and empty of most meaning. That card communicator couldn’t be listened in on. The trust issue comes back in. This isn’t right. Everything comes to a conclusion that doesn’t make much sense. I want to forgive her. Just do it. I can’t…

  Claire comes down with a box, sets it somewhere on one of the wall-backed benches, and comes to the command pod. I go over and stop her halfway there. I have to finish this.

  I hold her shoulder. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. It wasn’t the right way to handle it.”

  She smiles. “I forgive you. It wasn’t that unexpected.”

  Just go with it. “I understand why you did it. We were just monitored all the time.”

  A disappointed sigh. “I wish I could have told you everything from the start. I’m sorry it came to that.”

  “Claire, it really isn’t a…”

  Claire hugs me mid-sentence. I feel the warmth and comfort of this beyond anything I need, let alone deserve. The coolness of her face warms with my gentle touch. Claire’s silky, velvety hair brushes the right of my face. I smell something familiar, more familiar than anything else could. The smell of moist soil, grass growing, and the acidic quality of pine needles come from Claire as always. This brings back every moment I smelled the same aroma, every time close to Claire. It is over.

  Claire holds me at arm’s length. “Now, we can move on.”

  “Good.”

  “Come with me. The supplies are over there.”

  We go over to the slim box from upstairs. Claire opens it. It has two of each for the two of us. Nexus nodes of black, not the usual white, transfer data between two instances of tech. two dense stickers — also included add materials, one white and one grey.

  Claire holds open the box and turns to me. “This is going to be uncomfortable, if not painfu
l. Are you ready to swap your tech?”

  “I’m ready.”

  Claire waits for me to be seated, gets a node, and puts it on my forearm. The device starts working right away, turning completely clear and showing two compartments for tech — one empty and the other filled with silvery tech. That is just what’s happening outside. It compares in no way to what's happening inside. The removal of the tech sends a dry heat through me. Then the throbbing, like a headache, is there everywhere. The pain shoots up to something barely tolerable for a fraction of a second, before receding to nothing. It gets better each time. The tech starts entering the node while the other tech exits. The heat turns into a pleasant cooling feeling. The tech swap is over.

  By this time, Claire sits next to the box. “Now, me.”

  I look over her armored body, ending up on her neck. “Where should I put this?”

  “Let me just deactivate this suit.” Claire taps her shoulder twice, and the suit recedes into the base material — In this case a jacket and pants, not a one-piece. She unzips and slides up her sleeve showing me her forearm. I stick the node there on an accessory cephalic vein as shown by my tech with the node over the general area. Claire doesn’t need any warning. She has probably done this a few times.

  Claire just sits still, taking deep breaths, staring blankly off to the distance. She stays still and motionless except for the breathing. I just wait there. She isn’t paying attention to anything outside her own little world. Claire closes her eyes for a sec and opens them. She is back. “That went well.”

  “No complaints.”

  “Come over here. I need to add the mods to change our faces.”

  I retreat from looking out to the city far below us. Claire moves the box aside, slides over, and puts on the two stickers from the case. I apply the same to hers.

  “The next step is choosing a new face. The walls of the ship are all tech. Feel free. The ship will show you possibilities that fit in where we’re going.”

  We both touch the wall behind the bench for a sec. Our tech displays appear. We go to the node face selection. I look through a few options and choose something. I give myself dark hair, choose a thin nose and lips, make my jaw angular and a little sharp, and green is my new eye color.