MemoraCare

“I’ve never been to therapy before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right? You’re taking a positive step forward.”

John sat uncomfortably in the therapist’s room. Not because the room was uncomfortable, John was simply uncomfortable all the time these days. In fact, the room was remarkably inviting and comfortable in design. He’d imagined a large room and a leather couch, with someone taking notes behind a desk. This wasn’t like the movies. He sat on a comfortable armchair across from Alex, a friendly bespectacled man in his forties. Between them was a hardwood coffee table. Upon the coffee table sat a miniature zen rock garden. Lines had been drawn in the sand, presumably with the tiny rake which was no bigger than his hand. Next to the rock garden was a box of tissues. With the slightly dimmed lights and other accouterments adding to the homey feel, the room was about as comfortable as possible.

“How does it start?”

“Let’s start with getting to know you a little better, then we can talk about why you’re here.”

John swallowed, avoiding eye contact with Alex.

“You know who I am and why I’m here, I filled out the application form.”

Alex’s reply was patience and a gentle smile.

“This is true. I’ve read your application. The application is sort of like a resume, it gives me an idea, but hearing your story is why I’m here.”

John knew this. Even if he’d never been to therapy, he understood the process and was angry at himself for his defensiveness. He apologized and was both thanked for the apology and reassured that he had nothing to apologize for. Alex adjusted his glasses to read off a small notebook.

“Well John, did you want to start with the Awards Ceremony? We could also talk about the panic attacks and insomnia. This is your time, I’m here to listen and give some guidance when I can.”

“I’d like to get right into it if that’s alright. Let’s start with the Awards Ceremony.

“It was three years ago. I’d been invited to Stockholm because my best friend Felix and his sister Cassandra were receiving a Nobel Prize in Medicine. They’d founded MemoraCare and were doing amazing work. I was incredibly proud of them and honoured to be invited to the event.

It was a black tie event. Felix barely knew how to tie a regular tie but insisted on wearing a bowtie. He called me half an hour before we were supposed to leave, desperate. He needed help with his tie, he and his sister couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know a thing about bow ties either, I’d bought a pack of cheap clip-ons online and happened to have spares. Just managed to get him dressed in time to catch our ride.”

John found himself smiling at the memory. Felix had always been such a brilliant idiot. His smile didn’t last.

“He was wearing a fucking clip-on tie when he was shot.

“It was during the Awards Ceremony. Felix and Cassandra were called up to receive their award. You couldn’t tell Felix was wearing my three dollar clip-on tie, and Cassandra was wearing a beautiful purple gown. My hands hurt from how hard I was clapping.”

John dragged his fingertips across his palm, recalling the sting of pride and joy.

“Felix looked surprised, then concerned. It was only for a moment, then my friend crumpled on the stage. Cassandra dropped to her knees to catch him and that’s the only reason she survived. The second shot went right over her head. Between the applause and my focus on my friend’s achievement, I didn’t hear either of the gunshots. I watched my friend die and didn’t even understand what I was watching.”

Alex leaned over and handed him the box of tissues from the coffee table. John looked at the therapist in confusion and touched his own face. Tears were flowing and he hadn’t noticed. He took a tissue.

“Thank you. Maybe I’m just not very observant.”

“Do you need a break?” Asked Alex.

“No, I’ll be ok.

“The Swedish royal family was there, it was their security that caught the killer, Johan Ander. They found a manifesto in his pocket. Handwritten. It called Felix and Cassandra terrible things. It called their memory machine a crime against god, nature and humanity. He thought using a machine to remove traumatic memories from victims was worse than experiencing the trauma itself. Suffering is part of the human experience and other such insane ramblings. He wrote about how memory altering technology was being used by governments and shady organizations to control the public even though there’s no evidence of this ever happening.

It’s upsetting how much support the man received. I had to walk past protesters supporting Ander to get to the courthouse during the trial. There were signs in a dozen different languages saying some variation of ‘Free Johan!’. The police made Cassandra wear a bulletproof vest to the trial. A woman who had never hurt another person, a woman who had dedicated her entire life to helping others.”

John crushed the tissue in his fist. The tendons in his forearm stood out and his knuckles ached. He took a breath and forced himself to relax. Alex pointed to a wastepaper basket next to John’s chair and John dropped the tissue in. Once he’d forced the anger away, he started crying again. John took more tissues.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been through a lot, your body is trying to cope as best it can. Be kind to yourself.”

John nodded and blew his nose.

“The courtroom was the first time I actually saw Ander. I didn’t see him at the ceremony. I’d seen pictures in the news obviously, but there was something to seeing him in person, seeing the actual human that murdered my best friend.

“I was angry, I still am. Felix was a beautiful person and Johan Ander took that away.” John sighed. His chest felt heavy. “My testimony was short. Like I said, I didn’t actually see Ander take the shot. Honestly, I probably didn’t need to be there, I likely could’ve had my lawyer get me out of going, but I’m glad I went. The trial was in Sweden. The US tried to get Ander extradited for the murder of an American but that’s not how the law works. Cassandra needed someone and we were far from home. I’m a poor substitute for her brother, but I was at least somebody she could talk to and lean on.

“We don’t talk anymore. Nothing happened. I think I’m a reminder of her brother and it makes her sad.”

John rolled his tissues into a little ball and idly rolled it between his palms. He was staring at the little rock garden on the coffee table, but he wasn’t seeing it. He was seeing Cassandra getting out of a car at the courthouse. Wearing a vest and no makeup. Her eyes were only the tiniest bit puffy from crying. He’d never forget the brave expression on her face as she faced the protesters and hecklers between her and the courthouse.

“John?” John’s head snapped up, Alex was looking at him, concern on his brow.

“Oh, sorry. Got lost there for a moment.” John retraced his thoughts, trying to get his story back on track.

“You were talking about the trial. But it sounds like your relationship with Cassandra growing distant is a point of pain. We could explore that instead if you’d prefer.”

“No.” John waved away the suggestion. “I want to finish the story if that’s alright.”

“That’s completely fine. Like I said before, this is your time.” Alex scribbled a few notes. “I would like to come back to this in a future session though, I think it’s important.”

“Yeah, okay.” John took a deep breath, and puffed it out. “The trial. Half of it was in Swedish so I didn’t even understand it. The other half was mostly English. It was a bit of a mess and large chunks of it are just kind of a haze to me now. I remember Ander taking the stand though. He didn’t deny what he’d done. The man genuinely believed that he’d killed an evil person, not a man who’d dedicated his life to helping people. He went on a short tirade about MemoraCare. Basically saying the same things he’d had in his manifesto. That deleting memories or implanting false memories killed a person’s soul. He was completely incapable of seeing the good of the technology.

“They didn’t let him rant for long. He got pulled off the stand pretty quick once he stopped answering questions and started in on preaching his ideology. Things went pretty normal I think, after that. Until Cassandra took the stand at least. It was pretty obvious that Ander was going to get convicted. It was an open and shut case, the only thing to be decided was the punishment. The most likely scenario was life in prison but Cassandra appealed for a different option.

“She argued that Johan was a sick man, no different than her and Felix’s other patients. ‘The toll murder takes on the soul is punishment enough. My brother wouldn’t want this. Please, let me help him.’ I was against this. The man was a monster as far as I’m concerned.” John tapped the side of his head. “There’s a part of me, the rational and compassionate part, that understood Cassandra.” John tapped his chest. “But in here, I didn’t want to be the bigger person. I wanted that fucker to rot in jail for the rest of his life. I wanted some big skinhead to make him his bitch.

“Cassandra convinced them though. He was convicted of murder but his penalty was to be put into psychiatric care and MemoraCare would be in charge of rehabilitating him. The way Johan raged when he heard the verdict made me feel a little better about it.”

John sighed and rubbed his palms into his eye sockets. “Never got there though. Fucker killed himself in jail. Made a noose out of his own pants and hung himself. It should have been impossible. They have cameras and Johan should have been on suicide watch or something.

“I think the lack of resolution eats away at me. My best friend was murdered. I wanted Johan punished, Cassandra managed to overlooked her brother’s murder and wanted to help Johan. Neither happened. Instead, he’s just gone and everything is just…unresolved.”

John slumped in his chair, drained. He’d told bits and pieces of this story before, but never as one long cohesive chain of events. It had taken a lot out of him. He checked his watch.

“Oh! I went over my time.”

Alex smiled and waved away his worry.

“I don’t have another appointment until after lunch. Finishing your story was obviously important. I don’t mind going a little bit over in time. How’d you feel about this session?”

John rubbed his palms together in thought, staring at the little zen garden while he considered Alex’s words.

“I still feel awful, but I think telling the whole story, and saying how I really feel helped. I feel a little bit lighter, if that makes sense.” Alex looked pleased at this answer and scribbled a few more notes. “So, uh. How often do I come back?”

“Weekly would be ideal if that works for your schedule.” He handed John some papers on breathing techniques and mindfulness to help with the panic attacks.

“Weekly works. I haven’t been able to work since Felix died. My schedule is pretty open.” A second appointment was scheduled where they’d discuss the techniques in depth and dig into a few topics Alex had made notes on during this session.

Before John left, Alex asked him. “Would you ever want your memories of Felix’s death removed?”

“No.” John had given this a lot of thought. “It’s my last memory of my best friend. It’s not a pleasant one, but memories are all I have left. I’ll stick with the regular therapy services here for now, thanks.” And then he left.

***

Alex went back to his office to write some follow up notes on the session before taking an early lunch break.

Hello Cassandra,

John has taken very well to the therapy. His recollection of events, while largely accurate, have shifted in perspective. Comparing his story to the summary of the changes provided by the memory division show a near seamless integration. A follow up session has been scheduled for next week. I will keep you up to date on Mr. Ander’s progress.

Thanks,

Alex Mortin

MemoraCare, we care about your memories