Memory Stick
by
Paul Comstock
https://www.paulallancomstock.com
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PUBLISHED BY:
Memory Stick
Copyright © 2007 by Paul Comstock
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Memory Stick
Tricia Clark fidgeted while deciding upon which one of the colored memory sticks to use next. Each beckoned to her, holding a unique set of memories, some more tempting than others. Some were her own, some were from her friends, and yet others were ones that she had purchased. Reaching over she picked up the green one, her favorite. It held some marvelous memories from her friend Barti who had taken a trip to Europe. Tricia held it between her thumb and forefinger, stroking its smooth plastic surface. She considered plugging it in, and sighed. Reluctantly she set the stick carefully back into its storage spot and picked up the well-worn gray one she knew all too well. Lifting up her hair, she located the slot just above her right ear, and plugged it in.
A rush of unimportant and boring information poured into her. Information she knew as well as she knew her own name, though without the stick in place, she couldn't remember much of it at all. Things like where and when the transport shuttles ran, her current credit balance, and today, the most useful bit of information, the listings of companies and businesses offering jobs.
Her gray had been updated just a few hours ago through a public connection, so she felt confident that she could find a job quickly. Tricia took one last look at the neat little sticks lined up in their storage trays. Shaking her head, she stood and headed toward the door. Without a job, they would be the last she would be able to afford and her life would be even more boring and difficult than before.
She cursed as she walked out, slamming the door behind her. It wasn't her fault she had lost her last job. It wasn't a very good job anyway. Working in a warehouse was boring and dull, and it didn't even require the use of a special memory stick, just a simple upload to a gray. No wonder she was always late or called in sick. Sure, she hadn't been sick every time, but plugging in was the only way she could tolerate her miserable life.
She shook her head. No use in complaining about something she couldn't change. Her mental and physical abilities limited her job prospects and there was little hope in changing that. It seemed so unfair, especially since she was a very intelligent girl. But nobody cared about IQ anymore. All they cared about was a person's PQ, their Potential Quotient.
It seemed like such a stupid term. What did it matter anyway how much information a person's mind could focus on at any given time? Wasn't it more important what a person did with what they knew, not how much they could handle? But, of course, that didn't change the fact that she didn't have enough PQ to use the advanced sticks, and that's all anybody seemed to care about. It meant that she would never have a professional job, or a career in business, and since she wasn't a natural athlete, a sporting or dancing career was out, too. She was forever sentenced to a life in the dregs of existence. Sentenced to work in manual labor jobs like the warehouse she had just been fired from.
Tricia sometimes wished that she could go back to the times her parents talked about. Back to the time when southern California was a free kind of place, instead of the unfair and stressful place it was now. Back to the time when only machines used memory sticks, and a person wasn't judged on the physical and unchangeable makeup of their brain's capacity for focusing on information. Back to a time when a person with an IQ of 70 couldn't get a better job than someone with an IQ of 140 just because they had a higher PQ. She smiled, thinking what it would be like.
###
Accessing the memory in the gray, she picked the first listing for general labor at a company with a tongue twister of a name, Pied Piper Paper Products. The job wasn't what she would have picked if she had really had a choice, but it was acceptable. The ad stated that the requirements were within her tested abilities--a low PQ, and best of all, they required no physical testing.
"I'm here for the job," Tricia said as she walked into Pied Piper and up to a reception desk where a well dressed man sat.
"Hello," the man said, smiling broadly. The man's face looked as unnatural as the ceramic masks that Barti had shown her once--expressionless with no wrinkles--no indication that he cared even the least little bit. He was likely a Mid Pot, mid level PQ, and tired of dealing with the likes of her. The smile was fake at best, hiding what? Boredom? Hatered? She wasn't sure, but more than likely, simply indifference. The man sighed. "Your ID number?"
She gave him the information, and the man's eyes looked up and to the right, then flickered back a second later. "Very well. Have a seat, Ms. Clark, and you'll be called."
"Thank you," she said, and looked for an empty seat. There were few choices. It seemed a lot of people wanted this job. Finally she chose the one off to the side next to where a pleasant looking young man sat. She smiled as she approached and he smiled back. He smelled nice.
"So you here for the job?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah. Isn't that why you're here?"
"Uh huh. I need something to tide me over and help pay for my upgrade."
"Upgrade? Oh, you mean a new memory stick. What kind are you going to get?"
"No, I mean a mental upgrade. Something that'll give me an advantage over..." He hesitated, then shrugged.
"A mental upgrade? I never heard of anything like that. I didn't think that was possible."
"It's the newest thing. I just found out about it on a hacker's board. It's hush-hush."
Tricia looked nervously around, then whispered back. "If it's a secret, then maybe you shouldn't be talking about it." The last thing she needed was to get in trouble. She had already lost her job, and going to jail would be even worse.
The young man laughed. "No one here cares. They're like us, two Low Pots."
"I'm not a Low Pot," Tricia answered. The man's smile faded for a second and Tricia looked away. Wide eyes and opened mouths greeted her from the other applicants. It was only a second or two before most looked away, but it was long enough to make her feel foolish.
"Hey it's all right," the man said gently. "You're among friends. Everybody here is a Low Pot, even me."
Tricia sat back, closing her eyes and letting the air out of her lungs in a single, long sigh. "Well, you didn't have to be so rude about it. It's not my fault."
"No it isn't, and you shouldn't be ashamed. I used to be embarrassed by it, too."
She bit her lower lip, thinking that if a mind upgrade were possible, then maybe she could look forward to something better than... Better than this. Better than working for a run-down paper company. "So what do you have to do to get one of these upgrades?"
"Don't really know, not everything anyway. I'll know more when I contact some people."
So it was just a story. Just another scam, probably. How could she be so foolish to think, even for an instant, that such a thing could exist? Looking at the man's brown eyes, she decided it was no reason to be rude. He seemed nice, even if he was a little naive.
"And when are you going to do that?" she asked.
"In a few days."
"Link Howdner," a voice said. Tricia glanced up to see the man at the desk looking their way.
"Well, that's me so good luck with the job," Link said, and winked.
"Uh, yeah, sure. You too," she said with a half smile. Link stood, then followed the man to a door at the far end of the room.
Tricia sat thinking about what Link had said. Wha
t if these mental upgrades were real? What if you could obtain a higher PQ somehow? She frowned. If it were possible it would undoubtedly cost a lot and she didn't even have a job right now. Still, the prospect alone was exciting.
It was just her luck that Link had gone in for his interview before she found out more. It probably was a scam, but now she needed to know. Well, Link wasn't going anywhere, and he would have to pass by her when he got done with his interview, so no harm done. She would just wait for him and ask more about it.
"Tricia Clark," the man at the desk said. Well, so much for talking to Link. She needed a job more than she needed information on this phony PQ upgrade scam anyway. It was a nice dream, even if it was for just a moment.
"That's me," she said, standing and going the same direction that Link had just gone.
###
Tricia wondered why they called it an interview. It had been more like an examination. They already had her PQ level from public records, but like most companies, they checked it with their own equipment. Drugs and alcohol affected the PQ reading, usually dropping it. She didn't take drugs or drink excessively, but the look she got from the woman administering the test told her everything she needed to know.
As she came out of the interview room, she saw Link, and smiled. So he had waited for her.
"So how'd it go?" he asked.
"I didn't get it."
"They told you already?"
"I just know, that's all," she said, a little irritated.
"It could be worse."
"How?"
"Well, you might never have met me and found out about PQ upgrades. That's something, isn't it?"
Tricia looked at him. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners. "It is, I guess."
"Well, tell you what. How about you let me buy you dinner?"
"Dinner? It's only noon. Besides, I don't even know you."
"Sure you do. I'm Link the Low Pot, remember?"
"You shouldn't talk about yourself that way," Tricia answered. It almost sounded like he was proud of it.
"I accept what I am. Anyway, you know who I am, but I don't know who you are."
"Tricia Clark."
"Ms. Tricia Clark, now that we know each other, how about lunch and dinner?"
Tricia laughed. He was insistent, but in a fun sort of way. "Okay, but you're buying. I'm broke."
"Deal," Link said.
###
The blare of the vidphone startled Tricia, but she answered it.
"Good morning beautiful," Link said.
"Hello Link. I can't do anything today. I have to work, and I'm going to be late if I don't hurry." She spent too much time with him, anyway. She found it hard to believe she'd been dating him for six months now. He was a lot of fun, but maybe not so good for her.
"Not even if I told you I've got a lead on PQ upgrades?"
"You have to give up on that idea, Link. There's nothing to it, and it's not good to obsess on it. I've told you a dozen times that it's a scam. It's like all those natural PQ improvement things. It doesn't work."
She was beginning to worry about Link. His obsession with PQ upgrades had grown since their first meeting. First, it was just an idea--a dream really--that neither of them thought of as real. A dream she had given up on. She wished he would, too.
"It's not like that, Trish. It's real and it works."
"It can't be, and you know it."
"Look, I can prove it. A friend of mine is lending me his apartment this afternoon so we can check it out with his terminal. He's got the really cool Avatar software, so it'll be like we're both there. You've got to come. Please?"
Tricia sighed. "So who is this friend and why haven't I met him before?"
"Just somebody from the boards. I knew you wouldn't be interested in anything to do with the boards, so I never bothered to introduce you," Link said.
She frowned. She hadn't actually met many of Link's friends. Sure, he always talked about them, but she had only met two in person, and then only for so brief a time that she found out nothing more than their names.
It was one of the things that bothered her about him. He never wanted to open up. He never seemed interested in her feelings or what she wanted. Maybe she should just call it quits with Link. That might be the best thing to do, but she liked him. No, that wasn't right. She loved him. Stupid to fall in love with someone so obsessive and secretive, but it wasn't as if she had planned it. It had just happened.
She generally knew how the Avatar software worked, so it would all be virtual, and probably safe. She trusted Link, but could she trust his friend? On the other hand, this might be the best chance yet to get Link to open up to her. "Okay, we'll go, but if there isn't proof that it works, will you promise to drop this whole idea once and for all?"
"Sure. I'll come over and get you in a few minutes. Make sure you're ready to go." And with that, he cut the connection. Tricia sighed. She didn't believe he would ever give up on the dream of a PQ upgrade no matter what he said.
###
Stepping into Link's friend's apartment reminded her of her own run-down living space. The well-worn paint, cracking and peeling from the old fashioned trim work told of the disrepair of the building. The dusty and worn look of the blinds, crinkled and dented in places from long use, could have been a duplicate of the off-white ones in her place. The ratty old couch and easy chair, shaggy and worn, looked like they would fall apart if sat upon, and the stale smell of dust and mold in the air made her sneeze.
The large screen of an access terminal took up prominence on the back wall in the dingy little apartment. The dull gray exterior, smudged with dark stains, and its position in the room, made it clear that Link's friend was really into the boards, and the condition of the apartment told her he wasn't into much else. Row upon row of memory sticks sat in racks above and to the sides of the massive screen and took up the rest of the wall space. The sticks were of every color and size, some old and some new. There must have been at least 500 of them. Impressive. She only had 20. She wondered what marvels they held.
Link pulled out a simple chair from against the wall, and set it next to his at the terminal's front. "Here, sit down, and I'll see if Burner is on-line."
"Burner?" she asked.
"He's my connection. It's not his real name. It's only his Avatar's handle." Link reached around the side of his head, and pulled out a gray memory stick, placing it in an empty slot on the rack. He then grabbed a gold colored, bulkier one from a holder on top of the terminal, and plugged it in. The terminal's screen flickered from black to a nice 3D image of a snow covered mountain top with the word Razor floating in open space above it, which was quickly replaced with Burner.
Tricia watched the screen as graphics and characters marched across it. Most of what she saw on the terminal screen didn't impress or interest her. It might as well have been in a foreign language. She certainly couldn't make sense of it.
"There. He's on... Now he's inviting me in... Just a sec... Okay, now, I'm on the board. Want to say hi?"
"Uh, sure. How do I do that?"
"The best way is to plug-in and go into Avatar mode. Ever done that?"
"Heard of it, never done it, and not sure I want to."
Link smiled and her hesitation and doubts vanished. "Here," he said, standing up and grabbing another of the heavy looking sticks from the rack, handing it to her. "Just plug it in."
Tricia looked at it for an instant, then grabbed it. She lifted her hair, and pulled out her gray. A tingling ran through her leaving a lingering sadness. Unplugging was the worst part of the sticks. She always got a good surge when she plugged in, but an equally bad one when she unplugged. The tingle and dread were a little less with a gray, but she always felt like the stick stole something from her as it left.
A translucent image of a good looking young man in his mid twentie
s, with brown hair, standing in some kind of park, overlaid the real image of the shelves with the memory sticks and the terminal. The image of the man shifted, and she felt woozy and tilted to the side.
Link grabbed her by the shoulder. "Close your eyes. It makes it easier the first couple of times. After that, you kind of get the hang of it and can keep them open."
She nodded and closed her eyes. The background of the apartment wall disappeared, replaced by a now solid young man in a park. She gasped, and looked around. The impossibly bright and perfect green of the grass and the crystal clear blue sky appeared too sharp to be real. Sounds were evident in the background, some of people talking and laughing, and some of children playing, but no one was visible other than the single lone figure.
"Hi, Angel," the young man said.
"What? What angel?"
"You. You look like an angel."
She smiled. "Cut it out. You don't even know me."
"No Trish, he means you really do look like an angel." The voice was Link's and she turned to see another good looking young man. He also had a nice smile, but looked nothing like Link. This fake Link seemed more muscular, and taller, she guessed, with sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair.
Looking down at her Avatar's image, she could see that she indeed was dressed as she would expect an angel to be, in flowing and billowing white lacey things.
"Does she look this good for real?" Burner asked.
Link hesitated, then answered. "I'd say so. That's why I made her an angel."
The Burner Avatar leered at her, and she didn't like it. She realized this wasn't the real Burner, but she also knew that an Avatar mimicked a real person's thoughts, motions, and even emotions. "Hmmm. How about this then," Burner said, clicking his fingers. A flicker of flame quickly overwhelmed the Burner Avatar and replaced it with a devil. The devil's smile revealed sharp, ivory white fangs and razor sharp teeth. Then he laughed.
Tricia opened her eyes in surprise. The translucent figure of the Burner devil overlaid the screen in front of her, making her woozy again. She closed her eyes quickly in desperation and panic. In a second, she was in control again, but hardly calm. "That's not funny."
"I thought you came here for a little fun. You know, Avatar's can do anything you can imagine in here. Anything. Sure you aren't interested in a little fun?"
"Yes, I'm sure. You're disgusting." The comment only made Burner smile wider through his demonic persona.
Memory Stick Page 1
