Nostalgia Cafe

“Welcome to Nostalgia Cafe!” a gentle voice proclaimed as the front door had come to a close. The inside was immensely dystopian, though Steven shrugged aside the eerie forewarning. He approached the counter apprehensively, craning his neck in every-which direction. 

“I’m Steven Ross, with Blueprint Media. I’m here for the investigative piece regarding the spike in nostalgia intake.” Steven pressed his tote bag close to his waist, reaching inattentively with an attempt at removing a piece of identification from the front pocket. "I must've left it in the car, let me run and..-"

The voice cut him off: “Oh yes, nice to meet you Steven; we’ve been expecting you, do not worry.” The voice was becoming, and she smiled incessantly as she spoke. “My name’s Desire, and I’ll be showing you around.”

From his initial perspective, Steven saw dozens of people, enveloped inside of a small, cubicle-like space, attached to a device that cradled their skull, similar to a rugby helmet. They were motionless, radiated by a blue hue that barely illuminated the darkness, revealing a brief glimpse of their inanimate visages. Besides the conversation at the front desk, you could have heard a pin drop in the cafe. Steven removed a small notepad, immediately beginning to jot down some of his findings.

“How long have you worked here?” Steven turned towards the employee, Desire, and attempted to exude some mirth.

“Since the beginning. It’s a lovely work environment. Would you like to see one of the empty realms? I can explain how they work.”

“Lead the way.” Steven trailed behind Desire, gently maneuvering through the tight spaces between the boxes. At a closer look, drool could be seen accumulating around the corner of the patron’s lips where a clear-feeding tube connected, to which his brow furrowed with an inquisitive glare. “Are these people conscious?” Steven spoke quietly, finally arriving at their destination.

“You can call it that. Their bodily functions are still intact, they are just not present inside of this realm, if that makes sense. These neurocaps, as we call them, attach to the top of your skull. Of course, these are only compatible with the folks who have had the neuroconduit implant, which is a percentage that is gaining great traction every day. These caps, similar to bluetooth, have the ability to hijack your current consciousness, subjecting you to your fondest memories, or the fondest memories of others. As you might know, nostalgia is one of the greatest feelings known to mankind; it is essentially our brain recognizing the greatest and most memorable moments of our lifetime. This has ten-times the dopamine release as opium without the physical ailments that follow usage.” Desire did not budge from her smiling disposition during her explanation.

“Interesting…” Steven was notating along with her spiel, underlining certain-important factors for later reporting. “So what you’re describing is essentially a drug, if I’m deciphering this correctly?”

“We believe drug is a harsh term; this, as we see it, is a cure for the lack of excitement in modern life. It allows the youth to witness a world, free of technology’s grasp, ironically enough. When kids played outside, without the need for social media or others’ validations. Or even, someone living out their childhood dreams! I know it seems counterproductive, but as you and the rest of the world know, technology is not going anywhere. If this reality will not supply happiness to humanity, we will have to use the most powerful tool in the Universe: the brain.”

Steven frowned momentarily, though his optimism had seemingly grown from its initial state of uncertainty with her response. “So you see this as a fix to the current state of life? Why not use this message to promote life outside of these helmets, rather than shackling the people to this technology? I know you said it’s not going anywhere, but there is always the margin for change.” Steven pressed the top of the pen against his lips, again studying some of the people hooked up to the cap.

“This Nation is no longer a Democracy, Steven. We have eclipsed that and have entered a Technocracy. The most powerful people on the planet own our search data, our health records; they’ve created algorithms for just about each individual on this planet and know how to affect our daily lives. They have discovered that our conscience is no more than a computer itself, with the ability to be hacked and structured in any way seen fit, especially if they're in control of our gene structures and our conscious way of thought. We here are allowing individuals to use their brain and decide for themselves where their happiness lies—even if that is in someone else’s glory.”

Steven took a moment. Being thirty-five years old in the year 2030, he attempted to recollect his past before cell phones and the internet. It seemed foreign to even conclude that there was a time where people did not have a device attached to their hand, better yet their heads; but somehow, he remembered how bright the Sun used to shine on early mornings during Summer break; or the feeling of the brisk Fall, torpedoing through the Summer’s humidity on a random, late-September night as they awaited their parent’s voices to call them inside for dinner.

Most importantly, he reflected on his longing to become a Journalist as a child, watching the news with his Father, who was also a Journalist, and how he would critique their substandard reporting. It nearly brought a tear to his eye, finally materializing such a fantasy as his own. And there it was, just experienced in that paramount thought: nostalgia. How potent it was, forever just out of reach physically, but always nestled inside the warmest parts of our memory, ready to resurface in an instant at the most unexpected moment.

“How are you able to create these fond memories?” Steven began writing once again, in preparation for the response.

“Well, some people have the privilege to vividly remember a memory, like a movie; others, they write down a certain fragrance, or sound, or sentence—we’re able to take this data and create an exact match to what they’re pining for. If it doesn’t work initially, we will continue to attempt at creating this exact match. Once the match is made, the cap will sense that nostalgia is beginning to stimulate metabolic activity and blood flow in several regions of the brain, particularly the frontal, limbic, paralimbic, and midbrain areas. From here, the memory is projected into the brain; this data is downloaded into our servers, and the cycle of nostalgia is created for those who have never experienced these certain perspectives of life.”

Steven was flabbergasted, and his hands began to shake as he wrote the correspondence down. “How long do some of these people spend here?” He once again would gander abroad to all of the inhabited nooks.

“As long as needed. Some people, they never leave the benevolent loop of nostalgia. We've even seen people create new nostalgia within the neurocap. People who could never achieve their dreams; maybe they didn't have the funds, or a tragedy struck. The inner-consciousness of the neurocap is expanding. It's very exciting progress.” Desire responded candidly.

“That is pretty amazing. There must be a cost, no?” Steven’s pen moved within a serpentine, his hand sliding eloquently across the page.

“That’s the kicker: Nostalgia Cafe is a self-funding tool. As you opt to upload your own Nostalgia, you are generating Nostalgia Coins with your own brain’s energy! These can be used at any Nostalgia Cafe, worldwide. Nostalgia Coins can be converted into any of the prominent Cryptocurrencies. We are projected to become the largest within the next five-years at this pace.”

“Wouldn't the financial aspect cause a bit of conflict with the intent? Couldn't the creator simply lock people in, for financial gain? And how does one exit this concocted neuro-realm?” Steven’s tone was reticent, nearly rhetoric.

“The same way you've entered. All you must do is exit the Nostalgia Cafe. No one is forced to stay.” Desire’s response was ambiguous, though Steven did not retort. This was the first time her smile departed, but only for a second.

Steven felt the danger of this revolving door, essentially supplying your own means to disassociate from the current world; however, there was an enticing nature within this scientific discovery. He knew the reason he was sent here in the first place, to immerse himself into this newly-discovered world, head-first, as a respected Journalist. “I actually have the neuroconduit myself; many of us at Blueprint had received the chip initially, for faster data processing." He looked over his notebook endearingly. "You know, it was always a dream of mine to be a Journalist—to get the chance to break-open a story, just like my Father—to really expose the truth.” There was an incessant memory that prodded at Steven’s attention span, though he tried to ignore it. 

“Nostalgia awaits you, Steven.” Desire took a step aside, displaying the open space in its entirety. 

Steven gulped at Desire’s words, followed by the racing of his heart. Steven took a step forward, grabbing hold of the chair to alleviate the wobbling of his legs. “I'm not sure, this sounds a bit..dangerous, no?"

"There's no danger in the past." Desire's voice was stern.

Steven looked towards the front door, which was engulfed by a fog, distorting anything past the windowpane. "Weather seems nasty outside; I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try for a few minutes, for journalistic measures.” Steven sat down reluctantly, rubbing his hands along the arms of the leather chair. In his hands, he cupped the mechanism that would supply himself with endless elation; and that aforementioned memory, it was prying once again to be remembered, just before the helmet could be placed upon his skull.

“I’ll see you again, Steven. And thank you for your loyalty to Nostalgia Cafe.” Desire sauntered away from his space, still smiling.

"Wait a minute!" Steven stopped Desire in her tracks, to which she turned to face him once more. "I know you said all you have to do is leave; but how do you know you're no longer in the actual realm?" Steven had a question mark and an asterisk next to this question.

"Once the memory is complete." And she continued toward the front desk.

"Loyalty?"... Steven thought it odd she would allude to such, as this was his first visit; nonetheless, he continued as planned: Steven quickly placed the neurocap upon his head before he closed his eyes shut; then, he took a dozen or so deep breaths, to clear what was unnecessarily cluttered within his mind. It was only moments before he would return to that other realm of nostalgia, one filled with anachronistic promises and emancipation from a world of deceit.

“Welcome to Nostalgia Cafe!”