Experience

Sensitive Content: Loss of a loved one.

‘Welcome to Experience. How may I assist you?’

Claire examined the boy behind the information desk. He was dressed in his usual dark-green cloak and was wearing a star patterned pointy hat. The thick square concave eye-lenses on his face, made his green eyes appear minuscule. The other kids liked to call him pea-eyes, which Claire thought was rather cruel. So she insisted on calling him by his actual name…, which unfortunately was far from an improvement.

‘Vision…, I’m literally in here every day. There’s no need to be so formal.’

Vision tilted his head and squinted his eyes at her. ‘Oh, sorry, Claire, I didn’t recognize you.’

Claire shook her head. Seriously? Magic has progressed to the point of bending the very fabric of space, yet still no one can find a way to make glasses obsolete? Claire thought as she pushed her own frame higher so it wouldn't slide off her nose. 

‘So, which section would you like to browse today?’ Vision asked

‘Vision, again, I’m in here every bloody day. You know what I want!’

Vision barely flinched at Claire's snappiness. 

‘Fantasy it is. Please wait while I get a librarian to assist you.’

As Claire waited, she noticed a strange blue light reflected in Vision’s eye-lenses. She turned around, and a tiny cloud of fluorescent blue light floated up to her.

‘Good day,’ it said. ‘My name is Evansce, and I would be delighted if you allowed me to be your librarian for the day.’ 

‘The delight is mine,’ said Claire. ‘Shall we be off, then?’ 

The light Evansce emitted flickered on and off. Claire took it as his version of an agreeing nod.

‘Take care, and I hope you enjoy your experience,’ Vision called out, as Claire and Evansce made their way past the information desk and into the heart of the library.

Experience was no ordinary library. It was a library of memories, of experiences. It was the wonder of the modern age, the first of its kind on the continent of Remicentia.

The library was only possible because of the marvel that was MI (Magical Intelligence). Magic had always been alive, that much wasn’t new. But quite recently, a certain magus discovered that if you gave magic a tangible form and fed it a bunch of information, it would eventually start to think for itself. Magical progress had exploded since then. Memory magic for example, while fascinating, had always been more of a chore than anything else. Can you imagine spending hours sifting through someone's memories just so you could find 30 seconds worth of useful information? MI could now not only go through an entire lifetime's worth of memories in a matter of seconds, but also neatly sort those memories into categories like private, exciting and fond, that anyone could later browse at their leisure. 

Evansce, who himself was a prime example of the applications of MI, guided Claire through a maze of bookshelves, staircases and desks, until at last they found an unoccupied room. The walls of the room were lined with shelves of various memory orbs, and a few guideline books, no doubt they were placed there to help those few who were still uncomfortable with MI librarians. The far end of the room had large arch-shaped windows, displaying a wonderful view of the lake behind the library. And, right in the centre of the room was a birch-wood throne that had obviously been imported from the Fairy Kingdom. Magical furniture, after all, was a fairy specialty. There was a latch to seat-belt oneself onto the throne and a round opening at the back of the chair where Claire would place the orb of her choosing. Claire walked up to a lavender-coloured orb on her right. As Claire lifted the orb, she took a moment to enjoy the sensation of warmth and comfort that washed over her. 

Her mom used to write fantasy. It was all she would ever speak about. Claire remembered how her mom would excitedly try to get her to read through her work. But, Claire always said she didn’t have the time. Then that night came, and the thief made off not just with her mother’s work, but her life as well. Claire found herself lifting her eye-lenses so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. She gave herself a minute to recompose herself. It had already been a year after all, and fate had thankfully given her a second chance to make things right. She could imagine her mom’s voice firmly saying, ‘Clairevoyance Chrono, you need to be strong my girl, the past is in the past. It’s time to look to the future.’ But, Claire didn’t want to forget the past. At least not yet…. 

She looked down at the lavender orb in her hands. Experience was not allowed to label exactly whose memories they were giving access to. It would violate the new privacy laws if they did. Claire, however, didn’t need a label to figure out whose memories she now held. She’d listened to her mom talk about her ideas countless times, and since that night, imagined the world her mom had built countless times. There could be no doubt that these were her memories. 

Claire had delayed enough. She slotted the orb into the back of the throne and latched herself in. 

‘Evansce!’ she called out. ‘Show me the world of metal.’ 

There was a flash of light, and Claire felt her consciousness pulled into the memory.

When her eye’s adjusted, she saw that she was no longer in the library. It was nighttime, and she was on the roof of a building made of steel. A building so tall it reached into the very heavens. Claire gazed out at the fantastical setting before her. She loved the view of the stars in her own world, but she had to admit, the view of the evening city-lights here were beautiful in their own way. Below her she could make out metal carriages of varying sizes delivering people to their destinations along streets of black and white. Claire turned back to the rectangular roof she was standing on. Its flat and grey surface was empty except for a single desk at its centre. On the desk were stacks of documents and notebooks. It was all here, all her moms work kept safely in her memories. Claire flipped through the pages. The stories were incomplete but the base ideas were all here. A perfect foundation from which to build a new story. Claire walked back to the edge of the roof and examined the city, making sure to absorb every detail, every sound, smell and sight. If her mom couldn’t write her stories anymore, then Claire would have to do it for her. Maybe the world wouldn’t experience her stories, but they would still experience her world. Claire would make sure of it.