The NeuralNet

The acrid scent of burnt circuits hit me as I crumpled to the lab floor. My neural enhancement, years of obsession, was sparking wildly. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” I muttered, my thoughts a chaotic blur, memories and sensations crashing over me.

Images from a childhood in Marrakech flooded my mind—the vibrant souks, the rich scents of spices, my grandmother’s stories—all colliding with the stark reality of the lab. “What is happening?” I gasped, clutching my head as if to hold my mind together. It felt like déjà vu.

I forced myself to stand, legs shaking but my mind sharp. The device was still sputtering, but I saw it all clearly now—every wire, every circuit. My hands moved instinctually, recalibrating the system with precision. Maybe a minute passed, and then it was done. The machine fell silent, and my thoughts came into alignment.

Panting, I stared at the device. “What did I just do?” I knew the answer—my brain had evolved. Every skill, every piece of knowledge I’d ever encountered was now accessible.

Still trembling, I crossed the lab to an old piano in the corner, an instrument I’d inherited from my grandfather but never truly learned. I sat down, my fingers finding their place on the keys, and began to play. ‘Piano Concerto #5’, the melody complex and beautiful. I was remembering with a depth of understanding I had never experienced. I was overwhelmed by joy.

As I approached the moment of crescendo, tears forming in my eyes, I was once again in Marrakech. When the scent of my grandfather’s study—garlic and musty books—filled the air, it hit me: the machine had trapped me in a loop. The machine was in control now.