Memory Transfer Protocol

I have them: the perfect memories to formulate everything you were. I promise.

In the quiet, dark room, cluttered with apparatus and with the machine beeping periodically, only the moonlight acted as a guide to my hands and work. Everything needed careful consideration, it needed to be perfect, it needed… love behind every action.

Years had passed. Decades could have gone by and I would have been nothing but a lone passenger in the passing of time. That's how it's always been. Well, until I met you that is. You slowed down the days by making me... making me... excited. I can't recall every little feeling, but I can remember the tingling sensation on the days when I would see you again. The coffee you made still lingers somewhere on the memory of my tongue. Your voice is still a harmony in my ears. The perfume you swore was cheap and unbranded still lingers whenever I picture you. My senses haven't forgotten you, and that is exactly what I need.

"Inserting memory one," I spoke into the black recording box. The wires twisting from my head writhed to life as I flicked the switch.

*

For the first time in the twenty-eight years of my life, I had the bodily urge for a coffee. My research had been going well and I needed something relaxing and stimulating. I had always heard coffee contained interesting properties in regards to the ability to relax a person's soul (as preposterous as that is) and give them the stamina to work the hours away.

It was just me and Zach working on the M.T.N.s. After the layoffs, we were lucky to be left. People didn't believe in our work, the budget ever decreasing, but that wouldn't stop me. Researchers have always been shunned until they proffered results. That was all anyone cared about, and perhaps they were right. What good was a scientist who never elicited answers to their hypotheses?

Placing some of my research notes on the rounded table, I took a seat at the far corner of the cafe by the window overlooking their terrace out back. Potted plants carried hues from a multitude of dull plants.

"You like the flowers?" said one of the baristas. She had golden hair, recently trimmed, a smile which hid her teeth, and hands with painted nails. She stood by, hugging a circular tray against her chest.

"No. Not in the slightest," I said. "I don't care for the fields of floriculture or botany."

She shared a pained expression, which then must have leaned into mocking. "Next, you'll be saying you despise my coffee and all the love I put into it."

I caught the glint of a smile in her hazel eyes. "It's impossible to put love into a concoction."

"Do you not put love into your work?"

"I put work into my work."

She laughed at that. I frowned, scanning what I had said for any humorous possibility.

"I'll come back with your coffee." She sauntered away.

"I haven't informed you of my choice."

"I have a gift for picking out the right drink for each customer." She turned mid-stride and struck me with a devilish smile, finally showing her teeth. I made a mental note to study the effect it gave me because I had never felt... whatever that was before. Further study should produce results. It always does, no matter how minor.

"There you are," she said placing cup and coaster down. "One black coffee." Aside from the drink, she placed herself in the chair opposite.

"Is it part of the service to sit with customers?" I said. "The business model could do with an overhaul."

She laughed again. I couldn't find fault in anything I said, much less the advice I offered.

"You're an odd one," she said. "I think I'll remember your uniqueness, even if you never come here again. Would you mind if I asked your name?"

"Frank," I stated. It wasn't the greatest of names. I knew I'd never be an Isaac, an Albert, or anyone significant. I was a Frank, another name in a list of commonalities.

"I like it," she smiled. It wasn't the same curve as when she served me. There was something... softer about this one. "My name's Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure means you felt some sort of elevation in your emotional state. Is that what you felt?"

Her laugh turned into something uncontrollable, like a machine gone haywire. "That's exactly what I felt. What is it you're doing there?"

I pulled the documents away from her. "My research. I'm going over some notes. Nothing you'd understand."

"Sounds very complicated. What is it pertaining?"

She was using big words to elevate her intelligence. I'd seen it when we had the new recruits around the lab. Useless. All of them.

"If you must know, we are researching M.T.N.s and how to apply them to amnesiac patients."

"M.T.N.s?"

"Memory Transfer Nodules."

"I see. You might want to replace the 'Nodules' part. It's usually associated with-"

"I'm aware. I... I think the name may be open to change."

She put her arm upright on the table and rested her chin in her palm. Her fingers drummed her upper lip. "I'm interested in C.A.T.s personally."

"C.A.T.s?" I lifted an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I can't recall ever hearing of them."

"Haven't you? They're really cute and fluffy."

I staggered, choking on the coffee. "Right. Cats. I knew it from the start."

She smiled and pointed at my lips. "You're a terrible liar."

*

"Memory upload complete. State of patient: normal. Heart rate: stable. No errors to speak of."

I sipped my black coffee. I have put all I can into the Memory Transfer Protocol, and so far, it's worked. This is great news... But it's still not enough. One memory, no matter how important, can't recover everything.

But that's only a hypothesis, one I’d love to have proven wrong. Cases have shown recovery of all memories after an encounter with something familiar. Why couldn't that be the same for forcing a memory back inside someone?

It requires further study, but that will have to wait.

I leaned forward, pressing the button. "Uploading second memory. Standby for results."

*

I sat on the same table as last time. It had been a few weeks. Some strange force had kept me away, like a barrier in my brain telling me I shouldn't go here despite wanting to. I wasn't sure if this was something I could study...

"Hello, I'm Jessica, how can I help you today?" the barista had the confidence to match her quickness in serving.

"I would like to be served by the barista over there," I said.

Jessica's smile vanished. She watched Anna for five and a half seconds before following through with my request.

"You know," said Anna, slipping into the seat opposite instead of asking for my order. "Nobody requests me. It's always Jessica, Emily, and Charlie who earn the customers' affection."

"I guess that means I'm nobody," I said.

Anna smiled that non-waitress smile of hers. "You are Frank, the flower-hater, the researcher, and the funny unique man. I'm good with names, so I don't expect you to remember-"

"It's Anna," I said. "I'll have the same as last time, please. The coffee and the company."

Anna's laugh was more a chuckle escaping her rosy lips. "The coffee will cost you, but the company will be free."

“Will that be the same if I visited this premises every week?”

“It will be,” she laughed.

*

“Heart rate: increasing. Brain activity: lively.”

This was good. There was finally a response. After years of constant tests, endless belittling, and struggles, we finally had something to show for it.

I wiped my eye. Not yet. We didn't have the results we wanted. I had to keep going.

“Uploading memory.” We weren’t done yet.

*

Anna spun around, her purple dress fluttering. "Do you like it?" she said. “I was thinking I could wear it to our reservation.”

The tall mirrors reflected her every angle, capturing her every inch of her grace and charm.

"It's certainly a dress,” I said, analysing the product covering her person.

“Is that really all you can say? Does it look good on me?”

“My conclusion would not be met with satisfaction.”

“You could try it and see,” she ushered. Her desire in my answers always baffled me.

“I think it looks good on you,” I said.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she giggled.

I held my tongue, for once thinking silence was the best course of action. The tailor shop was one I never knew existed. I hadn’t known about a lot of places in the town I worked. Anna did, however, and now her knowledge was becoming my knowledge.

“I don’t mind if you have a preference,” said Anna. “I like hearing your thoughts, as oddly as you may phrase them.”

I cleared my throat. "Then I have concluded, after much deliberation, that the blue dress would suit you best. It... it goes nicely with your hair."

She smiled. “I like that one, too.”

*

“Heart rate: returning to normal. Brain activity decreasing.”

I picked up the tiny torch and shone a blue light into her pupils. They shrunk slower than the normal rate of a healthy person. 

I needed to act fast, but I couldn’t rush it. After so long, I couldn’t waste it all now all because my heart wanted it. My head was all I wanted to listen to, no matter how much the thumping in my chest begged for a quick result.

I pulled at the ring around my head. Blood dripped from the incision. I knew I couldn’t rely on myself to do it safely, but it had to be done.

I checked the M.T.P. screen. Everything still ran at a hundred, despite my own body probably dropping to about seventy percent.

I pressed the button on the recording box “For Anna,” I whispered without thinking. I shook my head. “I mean, undergoing next memory transfer. Standby.”

*

I held her arm. “Don’t go, please.”

“What’s got you so worked up?” said Anna. “It’s just a couple drinks. Jessica never invites me out. I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s Jessica I’m worried about.” She has a record of being self-absorbed on top of her criminal record of drink driving. She had never, ever saw Anna as a friend. “I can’t properly formulate my thoughts when it comes to this stuff, and I’m sorry. But I just… don’t want you to leave me. I’m… worried something might happen.”

Anna kissed me, a proper kiss instead of the pecks on the cheek she had been giving me most of our relationship.

“I love you so much,” she whispered. “I’ll just have one drink to thank her for the invite, and then I’ll get a taxi back. Would that ease your worries?”

I nodded, my heart's ache lifting.

“Please, be safe," I said. "You’re all I can think about, and I’m more relaxed when you’re here with me.”

*

“Wrong memory,” I coughed. My head hung as my breath left my lungs. I inhaled and exhaled with a slow rhythm, regaining myself.

I hadn’t wanted that memory. Human error has tainted the operation. No... No it hasn’t. Not in the slightest. Every memory matters. Even the ones we wish to forget.

I coughed again, this time I couldn’t stop. I sought my coffee cup, but it was empty.

“Keep going,” I muttered to myself, wiping my mouth. I had to keep going. “For Anna. For Anna.”

The second monitor beeped. She twitched.

“Anna?” I said, standing. Her open eyes hovered and closed. I held my breath until I could see her once again; until she could see me. The hazel irises rolled.

“Fr… Fra…nk?”

“Hah…” I exhaled. I collapsed my head onto her bed. “Yes. Yes, it’s me!” My hands shook, a sense of weightlessness came over me and I fell into the chair. I held her hand, lightly, and stroked her fingers. “Anna,” I cried, my voice cracking. “It worked.”

Her pallid arm, concealed with bandages, bent under a strain while she struggled to move. Any serious movements would snap her in two.

“Where…”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe. I promise everything will be all right.”

“Am I…”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her all at once. Her memories may have returned, but they must have been hazy about the whole thing. There were bandages over her head where she once had hair. Her body had thinned to a malnourished state. Her muscles had seized, and her eyes had sunk.

"Yes," I said. “Everything’s fine. You’re okay.”

She reached out, though barely higher than the bed sheet, a finger bending, shaking, and pointing to my lips. "You're… a terrible liar."

I shook my head. "No. No, that’s not it. How about… How about you ask me another question... Ask me- Ask me if I still love you."

She blinked. A smile tried to form, but her body wouldn't allow it.

"Could you... love me... like this?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Now and forever." I blinked away the tears, but they continued. "Am I lying?"

The smile broke through the atrophied muscles. A tear rolled down her cheek. "No. Not in slightest."