Locked Memories

The young woman burst forward in her bed, her eyes wide and her breathing laboured. White plastic sectroids were attached to various areas on her forehead. They were attached to white wires that led to a large machine next to the bed.

The woman was short and pixie-like. She had very short brown hair with one streak of blond that ran from her temple to the back of her neck. She looked around confusedly. The pod that she was in was modern, open plan and mostly white, but the multi-coloured blanket thrown over the white sofa and wall holos – holos that included her – gave the room a homely feel. The pod was compact but included a small kitchenette in the corner and en-suite.

‘Welcome back online’ a robotic voice came from beside her.

The woman’s head jolted to the right where a floating robot was hovering. The robot itself was rather pear shaped with a thinner head and thicker body. It had some form of thrusters at the bottom to keep it in the air and two thin metal rods with ‘fingers’ at the end as arms. On the head, where you would expect there to be eyes was a small horizontal chrome panel. The rest was a solid matte blue colour.

‘Your work Torlons have been added to your bank account.’ The robot added.

The woman continued to be completely confused and freaked out. Where was she? She looked at the rest of the pod. On the far-right side of the pod was a large window, looking out onto a beach? No, that can’t be right. No. It’s just a screen.

‘Where am I?’ The woman asked, her eyes slightly shiny from unshed tears.

‘Some confusion is to be expected. You have yet to receive your memory bank. Please do not be alarmed.’ The robot responded, it’s tone clinical and emotionless.

‘Wha-who are you?’

‘I am HAL-X. X-designated service bot. You named me Hal.’

‘And who am I?’

‘T’Jara, daughter of councilman Yurian. Actress of classics such as Time is now and Up Above. You have been working on a special project, Operation Doors, for the last few months.’ HAL-X explained, his body floating up and down as it spoke. Its arms moved along with its words, like a human’s arms would.

The woman – T’Jara? – reached up to her head. The mystery of the pod was giving her a headache. But instead of feeling clear skin, she felt the sectroids. Her eyes widened in shock. ‘What are these?’

‘Sectroids to aid your project. It is now safe to remove them.’ HAL-X replied.

T’Jara quickly pulled them off, feeling little resistance from them. She dropped them on the bed beside her. ‘You said memory banks?’

‘Yes. Your memory bank has yet to be restored.’

‘And how do I restore it?’

‘It is not for me to say. Every human is different. You must find it. It is here. Might I suggest you familiarise yourself with your pod.’

T’Jara stood from the bed and the first place she went to was the holos. They all included her and featured other people. They were enjoying themselves in the short clips. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing. One drew her attention. There was a man, similar in age to her. They looked similar. They even shared the blond streak through their hair. A brother perhaps?

T’Jara startled as sound entered the pod. She glanced over to see HAL-X by the large screen that no longer held the image of a beach. Instead, it showed something much different. It was a city. But there was no sky. A concrete dome was above them with artificial lights shining down to create the illusion of day. The city was filled with towers created of pods, like T’Jara’s own. They were large buildings with seven or eight curved pods on each layer. From the view, T’Jara estimated that she was ten or eleven layers up in her own tower.

The screen flashed back to life. A square came into view with an image of a woman. She was older and sterner looking than T’Jara but shared many similar features. A mother? Her mother was calling? T’Jara didn’t move to answer it – she didn’t even know how – and the square slid back off the side of the screen.

‘Was that my mother?’ T’Jara questioned HAL-X, who had joined her side.

‘Yes. She has called consistently since the Kallos celebrations.’ HAL-X responded, leaving T’Jara with more questions than answers.

T’Jara spotted little icons on the left side of the screen. She moved over and hesitantly pressed one. She jumped back when the screen filled with several boxes. The news. T’Jara’s eyes skimmed the headings and pictures.

‘6 days to go’

‘Is the air clean? One theorist’s opinion’

‘A.I. Killers: The ground is not ready’

‘Doomsday is upon us’

‘500 years since Nuke-Air War: The countdown is at its end?’

‘Operation Door: a review’

‘How to live your best life for the last six da-’

Wait! T’Jara locked her eyes on the previous one. Operation Door. HAL-X said that that was her project.

T’Jara selected the news item square and waited as it expanded to a full article. There was a poster as an image. That was her! And a man. He looked familiar. They were posing dramatically with a field and blue-sky backdrop. T’Jara looked at the bold text above the main body of the article.

‘T’Jara Tuvo and Hava Youri star in new romantic comedy, Operation Door. Is it a dramatic masterpiece or political propaganda? Released just six days before the opening of the doors, it certainly packs a punch. This romantic comedy, set just five years in the future, makes us consider a life above ground but theorists ridicule the promises that it makes.’

T’Jara skimmed the article. ‘HAL-X. What does it mean by opening the doors?’

HAL-X floated to the side of the screen that was still see through and pointed to the very edge of the ‘dome’. T’Jara moved to see. The wall was different there. At the very bottom, it wasn’t a wall at all. It was two large concrete doors. ‘The doors will open in six days’

‘Where does it lead?’

‘Outside.’

‘But why are people freaking out about it? Surely, they want to go outside. To be in the fresh air, right?’ T’Jara questioned, confused. The news article titles and the article on her ‘film’ had not cleared things up at all.

HAL-X didn’t answer but instead brought back one of the other news articles and put it on the screen for her to see.

‘A.I. Killers: The ground is not ready.’

‘Written by Lord Galios and sponsored by the Anti-Doors Movement (ADM).’

‘The opening of the doors is upon us, nearly five hundred years after the Nuke-Air War that brought humanity underground and under the thumb of artificial intelligence. Our A.I. overlords have declared the air and ground radiation free, but we cannot trust them. The genocides of 238 and 242 have shown us that they aim to destroy us. Is opening the doors their opportunity?’

T’Jara’s eyes widened and glanced across at HAL-X. Genocide? Was HAL-X capable of killing her? Did he intend to?

T’Jara shook her head. No. She had just awoken. She had been vulnerable in front of him, and he did not kill her. Besides, she doubted he would have shown her this if he intended to cause her any harm.

‘While this is very uh – informative and slightly disturbing, I still do not have my memories.’ T’Jara commented.

‘Your memory bank is in the pod. You have to find it.’

‘Can you not just show me where it is?’

‘No. Your memory bank is in the pod. You have to find it.’ HAL-X repeated.

T’Jara grumbled under her breath frustrated, ‘Right. Can you at least tell me what it looks like?’

‘I could not say. Your memory bank is in the pod. You-’

‘Have to find it. Yes. Yes. I got it.’

The call screen popped up again. Her mother was calling. Again. T’Jara didn’t answer.

T’Jara turned away from the window screen and turned back to her pod. Perhaps her memory bank was something physical. It was in the pod, after all. Her eyes landed on the machine by her bed that she had been connected to. T’Jara wandered over to it. The machine was square shaped. Part of it looked like a small viewing screen. Above that was a monitor for vital life signs.

‘HAL-X, why exactly do I not have my memories?’ T’Jara questioned.

‘You were working on a project.’ HAL-X replied.

‘Yes. Operation Doors. But that doesn’t explain my memory loss. It was a film. I was an actress, right?’

‘As an actress your memories are a hindrance. They interfere with the reality in which your character lives, so they are removed. The virtual reality in which you exist provides your character memories as inputted by the writer.’ HAL-X explained.

‘So, I give up my memories so I can be a character in a virtual reality which is then edited into a film?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I do get my memories back, right?’

‘Yes. Your memory bank is in-’

‘I know. You don’t have to tell me again. It’s in the pod and I need to find it.’ T’Jara repeated, her voice showing her frustration.

She turned back to the pod. Where were her memories? Where could she find them? She needed to find them. She could feel a level of urgency. Her eyes fluttered through the different items in the room. Her reading tablet. The screen. Her bed. The acting equipment. The kitchenette and the various kitchen equipment. HAL-X, who was still hovering in front of her. The holos. Her eyes lingered there. Particularly on the holo that first drew her attention. The one of her and her brother. It sat on top of a beautifully crafted wooden box. T’Jara approached it. She pressed a switch on the side. The holo turned off but there was a distinct sound of a lock unlocking. She flipped it open.

A heart-shaped locket rested inside. It was silver and looked expensive. Curls and spirals were etched into the edges while a heart was sticking out in the centre.

T’Jara reached in and removed it from its soft blue felt cushion. Her thumb ran over the top.

She reached for the clasp and opened it.

They came suddenly and painfully. Her memories. All of them. Her face, originally soft and innocent, fell flat. Frown lines appeared as her memories were restored.

‘Shut down’ T’Jara ordered HAL-X, her face firm and strict.

There was no argument. HAL-X’s form shuddered before the thrusters turned off and he dropped to the floor. Silent. Unmoving.

Her mother’s face flashed up on the screen again.

T’Jara turned and answered the call.

‘Do they suspect?’ Her mother asked immediately.

‘No, Mother. They suspect nothing. The film was a perfect red herring.’

‘Good. You should head to your post. The ADM have put their trust in us and we shall see their will done. Operation Opertus Ianua must succeed’

‘Of course, Mother. Hail, Galios, the saviour of mankind.’

‘Hail, Galios. Good luck and may the Gods favour your soul.’ Her mother replied before cutting the call.

T’Jara moved over to the side of the room and picked up a pre-packed bag. It was her operation bag. She would see that Operation Opertus Ianua, or closed door, was successful. The A.I’s would not poison them with the outside air.

T’Jara stepped over HAL-X rather carelessly. She’d turn HAL-X back on when she returned. If she returned. She marched out of the door with a confident and determined stride. The pod door shut behind her departure with a mechanical thud, leaving her room empty of life. The lights switched off.

A silent witness to the chaos that will erupt outside.