Memory Echo

Memory Echo

"I'll just pull the lever like so and- “

"Like this?" Myles interrupted, reaching for the handle.

"Wait, wait!" Dr. Nobleton exclaimed, his voice tingling with nervous excitement. He gently pulled Myles’ hand away before disaster could strike. "I’m thrilled you’re ready, but without proper gear, you’ll fry faster than the wings in my Ninja fryer. Please refrain from proceeding without my guidance. I don’t want to return you to the superintendent, as a non-refundable order of extra-extra crispy. That would cost me my license."

The doctor’s firm yet graceful tone successfully escorted the eagerness out of Myles.

“If you would please, put this on.” He said, fitting a shock-absorbent helmet on Myles’ high-top fade.

Myles hovered over a button on the contraption. Suddenly, a high-pitched frequency echoed. It pulsed from his right ear, slowly paneling to the left. The noise looped continuously.

“Press that, and your brain turns to mush.” Nobleton warned, punching in a code on his archaic computer. Hosting a dry smirk, he added, “And we can’t have that now, can we?”

From behind the metal towers separating them, he lifted his eyes to meet his protégé’s gaze. A silent exchange passed between them, as they often did. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and ducked behind the rusted machines.

As much as he wanted to send Myles through time, he had to first gauge the boy’s emotional state. Precautionary measures.

The machine preserved your body in stasis while your consciousness entered a temporal echo; a memory frozen in time. Mishandled emotions deregulate the nervous system. Interference from disturbed frequency creates a painfully turbulent trip. Such response could restructure your DNA, resulting in extra toes, missing teeth, or worse.

And this kid had already been through too much trauma. Memories nobody wants to hold. A question Nobleton frequented was one asked to him long ago, “What is one memory you’d like to erase?”

Nobleton untangled himself from his spiral overthinking. He had to remain focused to complete calibration. There was still one final step to ensure optimal performance.

A chorus of bells and whistles set the dinosaur computer into a rattling frenzy. With a domino effect, a rubbered line started squirming. Two other wires followed suit, slithering in a snake-like motion. Myles watched awe stricken, as human intelligence tangoed through wires and light, piecing the experiment together. As the machine stirred from its slumber.

Fluorescent bulbs began flashing colors at a steady pace. Horizontal lines glowed of a deep violet. Another row, blue and finished with a murky brown.

“That was an underwhelming finish.” Myles scoffed.

“It’s my time machine so I choose the colors,” Nobleton replied less than nobly. “We can adjust the colors, but of course, taxes and a small fee will apply. Would you some refreshments while we’re on the topic of your first-class flight? There will be an upcharge for that as well.”

Myles was unamused by the tone in his voice.

“Just take me back to the day,” he said with a soft smile, eyes closed, chest expanded. He shoved his hands in his pocket, tightly clutching his mother’s Taina pendulum. His silent way of recentering.

The gentleness wafted over the scientist too, as if the energy was transferring. Dissipating irritation turned his heart back to the mission.

His connection to Myles wasn’t just academic or based on their shared name, Noble. It was loss. They had both lost their mothers.

Dr. Nobleton had lost his far before he ever knew manhood. Of the many students that crossed his path, Myles had carved a place in his heart. He always selected three students to mentor a year, but this one was special. Orphaned and handed to the state, Myles lacked stability. Luckily, the courts granted an anomaly that mandated his attendance to DSI.

Tuition was steep at Discovery Science Institute, so Nobleton agreed to cover every penny. Meals, room, board, funded from his own paycheck. Myles never knew, though he heavily suspected.

“Annnnnd we’re all set. You ready?” Nobleton prepared his subject.

“More than Freddy!” Myles’ enthusiasm nearly blasting him to an alternate universe without the mechanics.

“In 3… 2…” he began, before deploying Myles to the other dimension. Brilliant blue voltage surged. An electric glow lit up the room.

“1,” he whispered.

Myles’ chest drew toward the ceiling. His feet hovered as he levitated motionless. The dial on the machine locked into February 14th 1993. Exactly seven years prior. His eyes fluttered during the transit.

Nobleton scribbled ferociously in a tattered moleskin journal. He took note of every twitch, tremor, and tick of discomfort. There was a downside to this method of time travel, your body must remain on Earth’s plane. Nobleton hoped one of his students would pick up the torch. Nearing his mid-50’s, he was ready to explore more peaceful hobbies, woodwork or golf. You know, what old people do.

He glanced over. Myles’ eyes were sealed tight. Fully submerged.

“You have now landed in Philadelphia Pennsylvania. Location, 457 Darcey St.,” he narrated in his best flight-attendant voice. “Enjoy your stay,” he concluded.

This was the first real explorer to travel on the Nobility Machine, 22 years in the making. He hadn’t bothered with the upgrades. What mattered most was function. He’d leave refinement for the next generation.

Once the patent and license were secured, his plan was to gift it all, blueprints, rights, and name, to Myles at graduation. Signed, sealed, delivered in an envelope sealed by a wax emblem.

A handkerchief embroidered with Dolly Nobleton fell from his pocket. As he bent to pick it up, a searing pain flashed across his cerebral. Discomfort ricocheted to the rest of his body. A memory, triggered.

He grabbed his favorite quill, tore a page from the journal, and traced its engraved title with his fingers. Letting his swivel chair catch him, he positioned himself for his own journey in space.

Meanwhile, back at the concrete jungle…

Myles found himself in his Philly apartment bedroom, shared with his only sibling. He rose out of bed, making his way down the hall. The exact same knock-off Persian rug from Big Lots tickled his arches as it always did. Mildew and dust saturated the air. All reminiscent of childhood, he was home alright.

This is the real deal, he thought. Oh! I can hear my thoughts! he thought again.

To avoid attention, he tiptoed to the very end of the hall. 11 -year-old him coming into view. There he sat the table beaming with pride over his freshly earned academic award.

Everyone was laughing, flinging popcorn across the kitchen, spilling drinks. Just merry. Conversations bombarded boundaries as always.

He crept to the opposite corner, and flinched at his aunt’s incoherent rambling. Talking to hot pink, fuzzy bunny slippers. She thought they were her dead ex-husband.

Classic.

Nobleton’s voice echoed to his consciousness, “Remember, you don’t have to creep around. They can’t see, hear, or feel you. Just…stay calm.”

Part of the development was the ability to interact with yourself and surroundings while in the past dimension. Therefore, the word would eventually travel to Myles’ awareness.

Warm butter milk pie sifted through the air, leaving both Myles’ stomach to growl in anticipation Every memory returned in perfect clarity.

Just as the professor’s warning sank into Myles’ consciousness, his brother walked through him from behind. That one hurt.

It stung.

Not physically, but emotionally. His brother, Mykael, was seven years older. When their parents died, Mykael regressed. The criminal justice system became his revolving door of choice. They hadn’t personally spoken since 93’. At least he knew he was alive from the jail notifications via email.

“Well, I love you, mommy,” Mykael sucked up to their mother.

“I love you more, son. You too, my pumpkin,” their mother crooned. “You boys never forget it.”

Jovial warmth from the crown of his head trickled down, as he received his mother’s love. A blanket of serenity.

Her balanced stride silenced every worry. Clothed in silk and poise, she was eloquent without saying too much, succinct, kind, honest. Small frame, meek and mild, with shoulders just broad enough to hold perfect posture. Mrs. Olivia-Meadow Noble simply resembled a queen adored by her offspring.

“What about me?” Their father teased, slowly making his way to her side.

She removed the brush from her hand as he set it on the vanity.

She knew she was beautiful and knew never to indulge in the act of vanity. For her belief was our exteriors are simply decorative. Ultimately, the contents within are what create the true reflection. Another reason why her soul shone beyond any mirror.

“And you,” she assured him, “are most certainly never forgotten.”

He pulled her close, inhaling the sandalwood embalmed on her olive skin, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. He would live and die for her love.

“I loved you first, my dear,” she breathed into his ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Gently they swayed.

With a gentle push, keeping her hands on his chest, she lovingly pulled away to absorb his essence. Her strong tower. The boys sat in the background watching their parents synchronized in motion, mind, and soul. This was that fairy tale love everyone dreamed of and few rested in.

Polarizing soulmates. Their father Johnson Sir Noble was nearly 6’5, fair skinned, with popeyes strength, and heavily inked as most bikers are. His hair would irreverently disobey every order he would give in attempts to tame it. Leaving him to let it run wild and free as the jungle it was. His beard remained oiled with myrrh and belonged on an Amish farm.

Sir Noble, was every bit her opposite Yet he rose to her emotional capacity. She saw past his mountainous exterior and built a life with him. Naturally, he softened. He honored his wife as the matriarch she was and honored the children born unto them as the soul-journers they were. They graced him with purpose. Something he’d been searching for, for a mighty long time.

But then came the trauma.

Myles began to shake violently in suspension. Monitors beeped warnings to Nobleton; signs of cellular multiplication.

He knew Myles’ story. What was to happen next would be the brutal murder of his mother, and the suicide of his father, right in front of him.

Doc promptly yanked off the helmet and caught Myles before his body hit the ground.

“No! No! Why’d you do that? I barely got any airtime!”

Myles slapped his face with a tired Fruit of the Loom shirt, then leapt from the doctor’s arms.

“I had to get you before your resonance broke the- “

“I don’t care about stupid resonance!” He said aggressively ripping at the wrinkles in his shirt, “I wanted to hug my mom. I couldn’t even do that. I’m glad I got to see her but I have pictures for that. This hurt more than it helped.” Myles clenched his jaw through tears.

He lost the battle as one managed to escape. Far too embarrassed to show his face while stewing in grief, he wanted to flip trays but also wanted to respect his professor. Hopelessly, he relented sliding his back down the cold metal panel. With shoulders slumped, he collapsed to the ground a sobbing wreck.

Dr. Nobleton sympathized with him the only way he knew. In silence. Never good with emotions, he was always good with presence. He bent his knees easing down the wall, joining Myles on the concrete. Together they sat in silence while the young man’s healing flowed in the form of water.

A tear greeted the professor’s face. It astonished, yet relieved him! Myles’ courage had engaged something dormant lying in him for over 40 years. Prior to this, the inventor lacked strength to revisit his own mother. Moved by the actions of his pupil, he felt a profound sense of emotional readiness.

After Myles had recuperated, the professor left him with a note written during their time of travel. “Don’t read it here,” he calmly stated, “I want you to take this to your dormitory.”

Wiping the snot running from his nose with the back of his sleeve Myles could barely make eye contact. His soul’s portals, revealed his heart without a single utterance. With a gentle nod acknowledging the unspoken, the door creaked shut. Secluding Nobelton.

The doctor went over to the dial. Shakingly, he turned it to 09/12/1955, his mother’s birthday. Also, the day of her passing. A story he decided he was ready to uncover. Inching closer to the launching pad, he carefully placed the helmet on.

“I’ve been expecting you,” his mother’s voice delights from the other side of their Brooklyn brownstone.

As he entered his quarters, the note doc gave him slipped out the pocket of his sweater. He had forgotten all about it. Without even taking his sneakers off, he hopped onto the bed, paper in hand, and a knot in his stomach anchored. He read the sentiments on lined paper,

“Myles,

There is something I had to share with you and I think it is now time you know. You play role in my personal growth as a man just as much as you feel I do for you. The catalyst to this machine, was a question someone once asked me, ‘If there were a memory I’d like to erase, what would it be?’

Previously, the answer would have been my mother’s passing. Then I remembered, that is not a memory for me to delete but to cherish her being, who she was to me.

To that, now I say,

Erasure

is a temporary pleasure band aiding an effect

meant to last.

It would be to allude that the imperfect is bad.

Why else erase?

Everything is meticulously put in place

by design

to get you to where you are.

You needed the stop in time

Timestamp.

So,

rewind,

try it again,

and call to remembrance

exactly what, is the lesson?

You have inspired me today, to do the same.

Oh and by the way,

the colors can change.

-The Noble Way

Dr. Nobleton.”

A deep feeler, Myles could connect to the soul flowing in this man’s words. Unsure what the foreshadow meant regarding the color change, he embraced it all nonetheless.

Without a clue on how to repay him for his insurmountable influence, he intricately folded the note exactly the way he found it quietly shutting it in a drawer. Jumping off the bed, he traversed to a spot in his room covered by a weighted blanket. As he reached for his safety glasses, he removed the sheet to uncover a welded sculpture. His torch lit to a flame, began melting away at the formation of a laboratory coat.

A passion project he started once he met the man who would change his life, forever…