Nostalgia is the Thing of the Past

Connor woke up in a white room, conscious of only a few things.

One: He was not clothed.

Two: His name was Connor.

And Three: His mind was a complete blank.

And try as he might, he couldn't remember what had happened that landed him there. Or what happened yesterday. Or what happened the day before or the day before-he couldn't remember anything. Not his parent's names. Nor if he had friends or a pet. It was like he was a newborn baby but still had some things intact like knowing words and what things were.

He supposed that it wasn't the end of the world. He could have been an abused child, orphaned, and alone. Or he could have been king of the world.

No matter where he was, he was determined to keep moving forward in life. He didn't know who he was before, and frankly, he didn't care.

He had a chance to make a new life.

Now, if he just knew where he was.

As if on cue, the door to the room opened, and a man walked in. He was talking on the phone to someone. "I'm just about to meet Connor." He paused. "Yeah, that case." He hung up and smiled at Connor.

Connor wrapped his arms protectively around himself.

"Well, Connor," the man said. "I am Carlos Sanchez. Do you know who you are."

"Just that my name is Connor," Connor said immediately. He didn't want to try to reach back into his memories.

"And you don't remember anything?" Carlos asked, noting something on the clipboard he held in his hands.

"No," Connor replied. "And I don't want to," he added evenly.

"Are you sure? We have all the details on your life. We can tell you if you like." Before Connor could answer, another man slipped in and handed Carlos a pile of clothes. He left without another word.

Carlos handed Connor the pile, and Connor quickly got dressed in sweatpants and a shirt that said "Made in Jersey." He couldn't speak for a moment, and then he found his voice, "Where am I?" Trying to keep that tremble from his voice.

"In a safe place," Carlos replied. "No where of grave importance to you. What matters is that I am giving you a choice."

"A choice?" Connor repeated. "What kind of choice?"

"If you would let me finish," Carlos said, not bothered by the interruption in the slightest. "You have a choice. You can either be put into a simulator and have your memories restored, or you can be implanted with new memories and given a new life. The choice is yours."

Connor stared at the man incredulously. "You mean reinvent myself and turn myself into a whole new person entirely?'

Carlos nodded with agreement. "That is indeed what will happened. But this is entirely your choice. We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Of course I want to!" Connor exclaimed. There was no hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Are you sure?' Carlos looked Connor straight in the eyes. "Once new memories are implanted in your mind, then there is no turning back."

"I told you before and I'm telling you now," Connor said firmly, "I don't want to remember anything that happened in my past life. That is all history. I only want to start focusing on the future."

"Very well," Carlos nodded. "We will make our preparations." He whistled and two women walked in, one holding a long syringe in her hand.

"A needle?" Connor began to sweat. He didn't like the look of the thing.

"It is a tranquillizer," Carlos explained. "You will be put under amnesia and given new memories. When you wake up, it'll be like you were never here."

Connor stared at the needle nervously. "Will it hurt?'

"It'll be just like a pinch," One of the women said.

Connor steeled himself and nodded. "I'm ready," he replied confidently.

"Good." One of the women gave him a small black iPad. "This has a list of preferences and how you want your life to be like," said Carlos.

Connor stared at the first question. What do you want your name to be? He decided for the name Tyler Orson, a random name. He ran down the list answering questions until he came to the last one. Are you sure that you want to proceed? That was probably one of the only things he was sure of.

Once he had finished, Carlos instructed him to lie on the bed. One of the women gently pressed his arm against the mattress and swabbed his forearm with an alcohol wipe.

Connor exhaled and relaxed himself. He felt a slight pinch on his arm and gritted his teeth as something was injected in his body.

His last thought before he blacked out was I never want to remember who I was before.

Tyler Orson woke up in a bed, sunlight filtering through blinds. He yawned and sat up. Oscar, his cat, who was sitting on his chest meowed in protest. "Sorry," Tyler murmured, smiling slightly at his grumpy cat. He reached across to his phone and checked his messages. A few from his buddies about going bowling tomorrow. A few from his best friend talking all about this girl he met. And then one sweet text from his girlfriend asking if he was awake.

Tyler simultaneously texted back all while trying to change his clothes.

Tyler stared at himself in the mirror and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

He had a pretty good life, one that he was happy with. He had a home, a family. Friends and a girlfriend. A cat.

Life wasn't perfect, that was for certain. He had all the angst of a teenager and the weight of thinking that the whole world on his shoulders.

But life was good, and that was all that mattered.

He was...content. there was a feeling of sereneness that filled him.

And if there was another life before this one, then he wouldn't want to remember that one.