The Gift of Remembering

by C. L. Shaffer

  "You're lying," Vanessa spat the words in Irene's direction.

  "Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. Do you really want to take the chance of going back, being deemed a traitor, and having every memory erased?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure that getting processed as a suspected UG member will be much worse," Emma added.

  "I've never been processed. I'm a part of The Firsts, and I always have been."

  "Are you sure about that?" Emma asked, still seeming to want her sister to accept the truth. "Tell me the first memory you remember."

  "I'm not playing your game, Emma."

  "Tell me about your first memory." Emma crossed her arms in front of her. "I can certainly tell you mine. I was resting on a blanket on the floor, and there was a hairbrush, which I must have loved, laying nearby—just out of reach. I remember trying to grasp for it but not quite making it." Emma motioned at Irene. "Then Mom came into view and picked it up, handing it to me with a kiss on the forehead." Emma smiled at Irene.

  "Emma, that's a wonderful memory."

  "And, no doubt, a lie," Vanessa retorted.

  "But yet you still can't tell me your first memory."

  "I didn't say I couldn't. I just don't want to."

  "The truth is you're embarrassed," Emma said, placing her hand on the wall as the truck went into a turn. "You're first memory is probably of something that has happened very recently. That's because The Firsts erased the rest of your recollections."

  "Nonsense. The truth is, I experienced a lot of trauma during the war. It makes it difficult to remember what happened before that time."

  "Oh, please. The only trauma you saw during the war was when you ran out of potatoes. You worked in the mess deck of a ship. Tia, our older sister, was the one who got the brunt of it, volunteering at that hospital like she did."

  Vanessa frowned at Emma. "Tia? You don't mean Tia Forester, do you?"

  Emma leaned into her sister's space. "Yes, but her real name is Tia Duncan."

  Vanessa paused for a second or two. "Now I know you're lying. Tia is someone The Firsts admire quite a lot. You expect me to believe she forgot we were sisters because The Firsts processed her. Give me a break, Emma."

  "That's exactly what happened, and you've been processed and brainwashed as well. And because of that, it would seem you'll never see what The Firsts are all about."

  "Well, maybe one day she will," Irene said, getting to her feet as she felt the truck slowing. She balanced herself by remaining close to the wall as the truck came to a stop. The sound of the driver's door being closed preceded the back door to the truck opening.

  Irene heard Buck unlock the panel. She shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight as he removed it. Vanessa jumped to her feet as if she was going to sprint, but Irene grasped her arm.

  Buck raised an eyebrow at her. "I take it you haven't convinced her yet?"

  Irene pulled Vanessa close. "I'm afraid not."

  Vanessa struggled a little in Irene's hold but seemed to give up, turning her focus to Buck. "Do you know what these two are up to and what you are involved in?"

  "I do." Buck sat the panel against the inside wall of the truck. "They're doing what a family does. They're telling you the truth."

  "Don't waste your breath on her, Buck," Emma said, moving toward the truck's opening. She peered outside. "Where are we?"

  Buck came to stand behind Emma. "This here is the outskirts. You won't find any cities beyond this point."

  "You mean where the landmines are?" Vanessa asked. Her pitch was high as if she were suddenly afraid.

  Buck looked back over his shoulder at her. "Nah, there're no landmines out here. When I'm smuggling goods between cities, I like to take joy rides now and again through these parts. And I've never encountered any landmines. I don't know why The Firsts claim that."

  "I do," Irene said before jumping out the back of the truck.

  Emma quickly followed while Vanessa sat down on the edge. After a moment’s pause, she gradually slid off until both her feet touched the ground.

  Irene shook her head at her daughter's apparent difficulty in believing that The Firsts would lie about the existence of landmines in order to herd the populace. "So do you think you can take us to the old city?" Irene asked Buck, who rolled the truck's back door down and secured it with its latch.

  "I'll take you wherever you need to go." His eyes twinkled when he said it, and it was apparent that like his joy rides, he was relishing this adventure.

  "To the center of the old city will be fine."

  "You'll be punished for this," Vanessa growled in Buck's direction.

  "Probably," he said with a grin.

  Chapter 31

  There was an eerie silence in the center of the old city after Buck drove away. The only motion came from a single piece of paper blowing in Irene's direction. It blew chaotically until it wound up around Emma's leg. She reached down and snatched it before it blew away. Seeming to read what it said, she handed it to Irene.

  Time for spring cleaning!

  w/ Memory Processing by Restore Your Life

  15% off—this week only.

  Make your life shiny and new again!

  Irene crumbled the paper in her hand and threw it to the ground. That was likely how it all started with The Firsts hiding behind every boutique-processing studio. She motioned down an alley. "We need to head this way. There may still be patrols, so we'll keep to the side streets as much as possible." Irene held onto Vanessa as Emma trailed behind them.

  "There's no need to drag me along," Vanessa complained. "I'm willingly coming now. I figure the more information I can gather about you two, the better."

  Irene looked to Emma, who nodded approvingly.

  Vanessa wiped the spot where Irene had gripped her arm. "That's better."

  A light mist fell as they walked, and if the city wasn't dismal enough, lightning flashed in the clouds overhead. "Let's pick up the pace," Irene said, feeling an unease rise within her.

  "Yes, Mommy," Vanessa jested.

  "See, that wisecrack right there proves you're a Duncan," Emma said.

  Vanessa made a face at her sister. "It proves nothing."

  "Yes, it does."

  "No, it doesn't."

  "Yes—"

  "Really, you two?" Irene chastised them as if they were toddlers. Deep down, however, she enjoyed listening to them act like sisters.

  Turning down a narrow avenue of what appeared to be a row of newer homes compared to what she'd seen on the last two streets, Irene began reading the house numbers, "Two hundred and fifty-nine, two hundred and sixty-one . . ." She stopped in front of a row house with a blue door. "Two hundred and sixty-three. This is it." Irene climbed the cement steps that led to the front door.

  "Really?" Emma asked. "It's just like every other house on the street.

  Irene placed her hand on the doorknob and scanned the neighborhood from her high perch. "I think that's the point."

  Emma frowned, still seeming unconvinced.

  Vanessa pushed past her younger sister and made her way up the steps. "She means because it blends in with the other houses, no one would have suspected it was a hiding place for a terrorist group."

  When Vanessa reached the top of the stoop, Irene placed her hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly, her daughter didn't object. "The people I was with were not responsible for those attacks. I would have never joined a group that subscribed to such things. I know you can't believe me now, but I wanted to tell you that."

  Vanessa brushed Irene's hand from her shoulder. "Whatever. Let's just see what's behind door number two-sixty-three, shall we?"

  Irene twisted the doorknob, half-expecting it to be locked, but it turned easily, opening to a modest but orderly home.

  "It's been a while since the maid was in," Emma said, running her finger through an inch of dust on the credenza near the door. "Why are we here, again?"

  "She never said," Vanessa grumbled, plopping into a seat in the adjacent living roo
m. A cloud of dust sprang up as she did so. She coughed discreetly as if trying to mask her mistake.

  "I don't exactly know why we're here, to tell you the truth." Irene put her hands on her hips as she strolled into an area of the house to the right of the living room. She scanned the space, which was a combination of a library and a dining room that held a large oak table in its center.

  Irene got the sense that the table had been used more for reading the books on the shelves than for eating. "I did think it would be a little more obvious once we got inside." She moved closer to one of the bookshelves in the room. As she read the spines of the books, she let her arms fall to her sides. "But I think I know whose house this was."

  "Who's?" Emma asked from the doorway.

  "It was Arnold Kingston's home."

  Emma seemed to think for a moment. "Oh, I remember him."

  "Who's Arnold Kingston?" Vanessa asked from the other room.

  Emma snorted. "He's only the most famous inventor of our time."

  "He couldn't have been that famous if I don't remember him."

  "You don't remember him because The Firsts erased him from your memory banks."

  Emma strolled over to Irene, who was still scanning the bookshelves. "It's kind of a modest house for a rich man like Kingston, don't you think?"

  "It is, but I seem to remember his parents living in this part of the city. It may have been their home, which he probably inherited when they passed away."

  "But why are we at his parents' house?"

  Irene pulled herself away from searching through the shelves, which held an interesting array of scientific works. "A close friend of mine gave me this address and told me to come here as a last resort. I would say we're at that point, wouldn't you?"

  "Of course, but this friend of yours didn't offer you any more information? He just gave you the address?"

  Irene began to circle the table. "He probably didn't want to take the chance of The Firsts being able to process the information from me. I think he also thought I'd figure it all out once I arrived."

  "But you haven't." Emma stood at the head of the table and gave her mother a scolding look. "They'll be coming for us, Mom, and we'll have nowhere to run."

  Emma's trust in her was obviously diminishing. She needed to redirect her daughter's focus. "Help me look around for something that seems out of place."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know. Just start looking about the house and tell me if you see anything that strikes you as odd."

  Emma rounded the table. She then disappeared back the hall. A few minutes later, Irene heard her clumping up the steps. Overhead, she could hear her walking about on the second floor as Irene strolled into the kitchen. "Nothing up here," Emma shouted from upstairs as Irene opened a closet door near the home's back door.

  "Okay, come back down." Irene put her hands on her hips again and sighed. "This really shouldn't be this difficult."

  Emma ran down the steps. "Maybe we should start at the beginning again." She walked toward the dining room as Irene followed. She slowly circled the table. Stopping, she pointed at one of the paneled walls where a piece of furniture was placed. "This paneling looks different to me than the other paneling in the room."

  Irene moved closer. "That's not paneling. That's a door. Help me move the cabinet that's in front of it."

  As they lifted the piece away, a small handle was revealed that had been hidden by the cabinet. "Bingo," Emma said as she pushed down on the handle. The panel opened, revealing nothing more than a cement block wall.

  "That’s not what I was expecting," Irene said.

  Emma shrugged her shoulders. "It's probably just a lazy renovation. Like when Dad boarded up that drafty window in Tia's bedroom."

  "Yes, but unlike your father, Kingston was a billionaire. He would have done a better job of it. They certainly wouldn't have left the door in place if they wanted to seal a passageway." The last words rang in Irene's mind. A passageway. "Here, help me push on the cement wall."

  Emma frowned at her mother. "Really? You want me to push on a cement wall?"

  Irene's second shove caused a gear to sound and engage. The wall opened slowly to a stairway.

  "What is that?" Vanessa asked from behind them.

  Emma scratched her head. "I guess it's a . . . secret passageway."

  Irene moved into the opening. It was pitch black except for the light coming from the windows in the dining room. "Go and find some matches and a candle. Wait." Irene noticed a light switch to her right and flipped it on. A bright, white light illuminated the stairs. "It must be powered by solar panels."

  "Of course, it is," Emma said sarcastically.

  "Let's see where it goes." To Irene's surprise, both her daughters followed her down the broad steps. Arriving at the bottom, Irene stopped and peered into the dimness. She heard a light switch snap on from behind her.

  "There, that's better," Emma said.

  The light did little to help Irene believe what she was seeing. What appeared to be a subway track sat in front of her. It held a transport capsule similar to the one she'd traveled in to get to the town. It was wider, however, with more of an industrial look to it. She guessed it had been used for moving equipment and supplies instead of people.

  "What is this thing?" Vanessa asked, moving closer to the capsule.

  Emma went to stand beside her. "It looks like a subway train of some sort."

  Irene examined the keypad next to the door that led into the capsule. She pushed a button, and the doors opened. "Let's go."

  Without hesitation, Emma raced inside the capsule and found a place to sit on one of the pallets of wood.

  "I'm not getting in that thing. It looks like it hasn't been used in years. And it's full of junk."

  Emma peeked out through the opening with a piece of wood in hand. "Should I knock her out again?"

  "Emma."

  Emma pouted and disappeared back into the capsule as Irene approached Vanessa. "I believe you know the truth."

  "What? That you're my mother?"

  Irene shook her head. "I don't think I've convinced you of that, but I do believe that for some time, you've had a sense that something was off."

  Vanessa just stood there, scowling at her.

  "Secretly, you've probably asked yourself, maybe more than once, how The Firsts run their cities with such little effort."

  Vanessa let out a laugh. "They run smoothly because of people like me who work unselfishly for the cause."

  "Unselfish?" Irene snapped. "Is that what you call the slave labor that keeps your stomach full and your apartment warm at night?"

  Vanessa's face reddened. "What are you talking about?"

  Irene stared her daughter down. She knew when one of them was lying, and this one was lying not only to her but also to herself. "Tell the truth, Vanessa. It's one thing to lie to me, but quite another thing to lie to yourself."

  Vanessa glared at her, but then her angry expression slowly disappeared as if she were remembering something. "There may have been times when I received reports where the output didn't quite equate to the amount of labor force we have, but everyone is probably putting in a lot of unpaid time to make our society a success. So your forced labor theory is just nonsense. Besides, where would The Firsts get that labor?"

  Irene stepped closer. "It’s provided by the people who were processed and then brainwashed in your reeducation camps."

  To Irene's relief, Vanessa didn’t automatically reject the notion. Instead, her daughter's attention dropped to the grey, cement floor, and she seemed to consider what she was being told. She grimaced a few times, apparently wrestling with The Firsts' brainwashing and with what Irene was telling her.

  "There is a way out, Vanessa. If you get into this capsule, it will take you to a place where people are free of The Firsts."

  "People with freedom only end up making war and destroying themselves."

  Irene wasn't surprised by her daughter's line of reasoning
. It was merely The Firsts' propaganda. "That could happen, Vanessa. But I can tell you that the system you live in—the system that The Firsts have built, where they're the only ones in charge, is a bomb waiting to go off. The slave labor and those who see the inhumanity of it will rebel. You will have a war."

  "And I'm sure The Discord will nudge it along."

  "Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Irene motioned at the capsule. "Find out what The Opposition is up to by coming along. Isn't it your duty as one of The Firsts to do that?"

  Vanessa studied the capsule. Her curiosity seemed to take hold once again. "I suppose I should."

  "She's coming willingly?" Emma asked from the doorway, still holding the piece of wood in her hand.

  "Just keep her away from me," Vanessa said to Irene.

  Chapter 32

  Roger's office was more chaotic than it had been the first time Irene visited. Stacks of paper were everywhere, and the staff was exiting and entering frequently. From where she sat, she could overhear him conversing with someone out in the hall. The conversation soon wound down, and he entered his office with his arms outstretched to her. "Irene," he said as they hugged, "so good to have you back."

  He pulled away from the embrace but held onto her arms. "How are your daughters?"

  Irene sighed. "Well, Emma is thrilled by the town. Vanessa, on the other hand. . . let's just say, she's on the path to seeing the light."

  "It will take some time. I'm sure. Freedom can be a scary thing for some people." He squeezed her arms gently and let them go. "Any problems in using the address?"

  "Not at all." Irene noticed something different in Roger, other than the change in his office atmosphere. He seemed more optimistic, energetic even. "I hope you were okay with me using the address, but I thought it appropriate, seeing how The Firsts had captured my husband while the rest of my family was running from them."

  Roger took a step back. "Well, you were never really in much danger."

  Irene stuck her chin out at him. "Come again?"

  Roger seemed to hesitate to say more as he rounded his desk to take a seat. "Please," he said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk.