Someone to Remember Me: The Anniversary Edition

by Brendan Mancilla

  “I do not know. Only the AdvISOR could tell you why with any certainty.”

  “And I’m guessing that would be a bad idea? Where is the AdvISOR right now?” Seven demanded.

  “Further scans indicate that the AdvISOR went dormant after the purge. My scans indicate that if the energy consumption levels of Haven exceed point zero eight percent, it will reactivate.”

  “Point zero eight percent?” Ninety-Nine whispered. “How much do you consume alone?”

  “Point zero zero zero zero five,” the Unimatrix answered.

  “What would cause the AdvISOR to reactivate?” Twenty sneered.

  “Logically, any attempt to activate the city’s foundries would reactivate the AdvISOR.”

  “The foundries?” Null wondered.

  “There were no boats at the shore,” Eight remembered, rubbing her forehead. The stress of the realization was giving her a headache. “You would need to build boats at the foundry. The perfect way to make sure the AdvISOR doesn’t miss any survivors trying to escape.”

  “How. Absolutely. Perfect!” It was a hysteric Twenty who erupted, fury spilling out through each word. “Those idiots built a computer that turned around and killed them! And now we’ve woken up five hundred years later, trapped between someone orchestrating our survival and the same murderous machine that caused this whole debacle!”

  “How long ago did the Founders arrive on Haven?” Eight asked the Unimatrix.

  “One thousand, five-hundred years ago.”

  Fifteen hundred years? Seven’s head nearly floated away from his body. That meant that the disparate memories the group had experienced were spread across centuries. How could that be?

  An irate Twenty asked the Unimatrix: “How long ago was the Imperial Galleria opened?”

  “The current design of the Imperial Galleria is some nine hundred years old.”

  “Wonderful. I could be anywhere from nine hundred to five-hundred years old,” Twenty threw his arms up in mock surrender.

  “When was the Business District of Haven initially mapped?” Null asked.

  “The current design of the Business District is nearly thirteen hundred years old.”

  “I’m almost one point five thousand years old myself,” Null remarked to Eight.

  “I haven’t experienced actual memories,” Ninety-Nine grumbled morosely. “Just stories embedded in code.”

  “Did the people of Haven develop time travel technology?” Eight asked the Unimatrix.

  “I do not know. Large portions of data are missing. Perhaps they did?”

  Another of Twenty’s unpredictable eruptions took the group by surprise. Seven fought back the urge to hit him.

  “You realize that this has been one massive waste of time, right? What we’ve learned here changes nothing! For everything we’ve been through all we got were flowers and a few supplies,” Twenty moaned. “Instead of making any actual progress, we’re getting lessons in the finer points of computer psychology from a confused machine.”

  Eight’s next question was a fine example of her brilliance, and again it left Twenty completely ignored.

  “Do you know where roses might have come from?”

  “Roses?” the Unimatrix asked dubiously.

  “Most of the city is dead, yet each of us had a rose.”

  “In my efforts to reindex my database I have detected a new reference to a ‘Rose Garden’ implanted therein.” A map of Haven blinked into existence as the Unimatrix narrated, “If you venture to Haven’s northernmost shore you will arrive at Pala Park. There, a ferry can take you to a botanical research station called Rose Garden. It is located on a smaller island adjacent to the main landmass. If you were left with roses as a clue, that would be an adequate starting point,” the Unimatrix recommended and the map plotted itself with their impending journey.

  “Could it be a trap set by the AdvISOR?” Null supposed.

  “Highly unlikely. This new information suggests that Rose Garden exists on a separate power grid than the Haven mainland. As it is not on the main island it would not be monitored by the AdvISOR. Statistically, Rose Garden is safer from the AdvISOR than this Library is.”

  “Eight? What do you think?” Seven asked, causing four pairs of eyes to swivel towards the scientist. With a swift answer at the ready, their confidence in Eight was reassured.

  “We need to go to Rose Garden for all the reasons Twenty mentioned,” Eight shocked the group by naming the malcontent. Riled from his silence, his arms crossed over his chest, Twenty spoke guardedly.

  “Why?” he asked and narrowed his eyes.

  Eight made an annoyed face at him. “Why? Why not? Why do we have memories from different points in time? Why have we survived a massacre five hundred years after the fact? In short...why are we here?”

  Seven and the others were nodding their agreement. Eight gave their thoughts an articulated voice. “Well when you put it that way…” Twenty answered in a lofty voice, flattered by the idea of influencing Eight. “Let’s do it. Maybe we’ll find a killer broom to go with the killer dust monster.”

  “I want to know if I’m fifteen hundred years old, too?” Seven asked of nobody in particular. He was impressed by Eight’s ability to sway Twenty but his own frayed patience was beginning to show. “I remember meeting each of you outside this Library before the city fell, but Eight and Null have memories from before Haven was even built.”

  When Twenty spoke next, his voice lacked the usual dramatic pitch. He addressed Seven calmly but unevenly.

  “I have a memory of you, Seven. We lived before the city fell, during its twilight, over five centuries ago.”

  As if Twenty had issued a personal challenge, Eight asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “The art show that I hosted at the Imperial Galleria, Seven was a presenter!” Twenty replied, once again terse. Seven watched a strange gleam enter Twenty’s eyes. He beheld a familiar passion barely out of reach as he spoke.

  “It was the first exhibition of your work, of your photography. You didn’t realize what you were walking into that night because I displayed your best work without your permission. But you had talent, even if you refused to acknowledge it.” Twenty’s eyes glistened and his voice strengthened with the truth of his recollections. “Would you like to know what the worst part is?” Twenty asked, his voice resuming its naturally callous tone. “It’s how you think of yourself now after five hundred years. You only see yourself as a glorified security guard. Do you realize what an insult that was to who you were?”

  Seven felt sick. How did Twenty remember him when Seven remembered so little of the others? He saw Eight staring at him. Did it make her think less of him to know? What would a scientist think of a man who did something as useless as take photographs?

  And why did it bother him so much? The easy fix would be to call Twenty a liar and ignore the accusation. That might save his reputation in Eight’s eyes. Considering those options made him decide the opposite. Could the others accept him if he possessed no material skills?

  “Can you shut yourself off?” Seven asked the Unimatrix. It answered in the affirmative by lowering the floor down to the original position. Above them the roof sealed itself, hiding the dark chamber of images and light. They were back in the dusty Inner Sanctum.

  “That’s not all,” Twenty’s bright expression turned grim and foreboding.

  “What else do you remember?” Eight’s exhausted voice snapped, challenging him to be quiet instead.

  “You.” Twenty swung the revelation like a heavy club. “You were in one of the photos that Seven took. The best one in fact,” and a tense awkwardness overtook the group of survivors. Named and acknowledged, the unspoken attraction between Seven and Eight spawned an uncomfortable silence.

  Seven looked at Eight. Surprisingly she met his gaze. He made his decision abruptly.

  “I need a few minutes.” Refusing to discuss the chaotic memories further he left the Inner Sanctum and found hi
mself headed for the Library’s exit. Why weren’t his memories as detailed as those of his companions? Was it his subconscious that was holding him back?

  Cold illumination siphoned through the unspeakably dirty windows. An anemic gray light cast itself upon the deteriorated furniture. Seven pushed one of the heavy stone doors further open and stepped into the bitter morning. Beyond the statues were the plentiful towers of Haven: as lifeless in the morning as they were in the evening. In fact, everything about the city in the morning was the same as it was in the evening, except that the location of the sun was different.

  Propelled by his need to keep moving Seven paced around the statues of the mythical Founders. Their frames were four times the size of Seven and each posture different, though the eyes of each unblinking Founder were turned to the horizon.

  On the pedestals of the statues were memorial plaques engraved with sayings. At Haven’s start the Founders had words of wisdom fixed upon their statues for posterity. “From Many, One,” Seven read aloud. A morbid smile spread across his face. If only they knew what would happen to their beloved city. Maybe their warning would have been more...profound?

  He wasn’t surprise to find that Eight followed him from one pedestal to another.

  “These memories are making a mess of things,” Seven admitted.

  Eight accepted that as her cue to approach him. “I agree. They cause us to question ourselves.” Eight stopped talking and kept her eyes fixed on Seven.

  Eight closed the small distance that separated them. Seven’s heart began to punch against his chest loudly as he protested. “But each of you has an idea of who you were. What was I? A photographer? A security guard? A janitor?” he snorted. When Eight set her hand on his shoulder a distant recognition whispered in Seven’s ear.

  “The composer of the music,” Eight supplied.

  Seven met her gaze.

  “No,” he countered.

  “Yes. You wrote the music that brought us together. I dreamt about it last night and I know that counts for something,” she assured him. “I think, in this life or the last, you’re more interesting than you give yourself credit for.” Eight’s quiet laughter made Seven feel better, in spite of the tightening sensation in his chest.

  “Not interesting enough to stop whatever happened to Haven,” Seven said. Looking up at the anonymous face high above himself and Eight, Seven posited aloud, “I wonder what the Founders would think if they could see this...”

  Eight looked away from him and turned her eyes to the city that had become a graveyard.

  “I don’t know,” she answered at last, “But it wouldn’t be anything good.”

  Chapter Five:

  Among the Shallows

  Though Seven called for them to leave the Great Library less than an hour later, the sensation that accompanied their departure felt more like fleeing to Eight. None of the survivors could make eye contact with the statutes that towered high above them in the Round of Heroes and passing through their shadows in the mid-morning light was enough to make Eight want to run as fast as she could. To stare at the commemorative statues of the Founders would be to invite some form of judgment from them and, in light of their present ordeal, they could do with less bad luck.

  Equipped with a crudely drawn map, Twenty undertook the task of navigating the group to the northern shore of Haven. Eight noted the dramatic shift in his attitude as he tried to adopt more responsibility in deciding their course of action. According to Null and Ninety-Nine, while Eight and Seven were outside, Twenty reactivated the Unimatrix in the hopes of acquiring practical and helpful information.

  Twenty had not been disappointed by the Unimatrix. It assisted him in plotting a course and calculated supplies while estimating a travel time. After Eight convinced Seven to return to the Great Library they had found the others walking towards them already packed and ready to depart. Eight wondered if somewhere in the course of the earlier argument Twenty’s mind had been more forcefully changed than she originally thought. His interest in reaching the distant shores of Rose Garden seemed genuine and Eight, with no other options, accepted it.

  Though Twenty’s usual sarcasm hadn’t entirely vanished, not by a long shot, his seemingly boundless anger had. An almost irritating optimism commandeered his interactions with Seven, causing Eight to guess that voicing their former friendship had somehow rekindled a spark of it.

  Eight dared to see the best in Twenty. With only five survivors across the whole island she did not have the luxury of expecting the worst from her companions. Haven, in its deathly silence, experienced a brief revival as Twenty recounted his lonely memory of the art exhibition to Seven. As in love with the sound of his own voice as ever, Twenty convinced them that there had been a time when Haven was more than rotting towers and empty streets.

  Twenty’s abrupt pauses and lengthy silences bothered Eight. When she asked him about it, the man lamented the unfair gaps in his memory. It served as a reminder to her that no attitude shift was strong enough to overcome their shared amnesia.

  Seven clung to his every word. Seven’s memories, from what Eight gathered, were fleeting and incomplete; vague to the point of frustration. Twenty offered a specificity and detail, a glimpse into a past life, that Seven lacked. The two of them led the group while Eight, Null, and Ninety-Nine stayed back.

  “Why do you think Seven’s memories are only from one period when ours seem to be spread across history?” Null asked.

  “Maybe the monster didn’t affect him like it did us? Or maybe Seven is subconsciously trying to remember a particular event?” Eight supposed.

  “Those are the most likely possibilities,” Ninety-Nine answered, drawing the curious gazes of Eight and Null. “The monster is a biological weapon that was use to purge Haven, that much we know for certain. It stimulates the minds of its victims and incapacitates them, but while we were reliving memories from across history Seven recalled an event from before the city’s demise. That suggests a biological defense of some kind, perhaps a genetic abnormality specific to Seven?”

  “A genetic abnormality?” Eight repeated, her eyes moving to where Seven and Twenty were, leading the group on their sojourn to Rose Garden. Seven and Twenty were so entrenched in their own animated conversation that Eight doubted they could hear the women even if they tried to eavesdrop.

  “Certainly. It’s not unknown for immunities to develop over time and be passed down through generations. I doubt that the monster is a naturally occurring phenomenon but that its abilities might have once been and were therefore appropriated and reproduced,” Ninety-Nine categorically explained. “Has Seven mentioned any other memories?”

  “When we met, he made a comment about guarding Haven,” Eight dredged her memory for specifics. Seven’s statement had been ambiguous, filled with all the loss and longing that came from waking up with amnesia.

  “That confirms that his memories are returning to him sequentially. One after the other.”

  “Or maybe the monster is just afraid of him?” Null replied, her defensiveness a response to the Ninety-Nine’s blithe attitude.

  “Possibly, but the monster seems to be incapable of actually hurting any of us,” Eight remembered how the monster had swarmed them outside the Great Library and death seemed moments away. Instead, the beast had fled but not before teasing awake some lingering memories.

  Null shrugged and officially detached from the conversation.

  Their silence augmented Haven’s shadowy depths. Rather than return to the highway and risk another encounter with their avowed predator, the survivors were traveling the surface streets of Haven. Haven’s obelisks, paralyzed and faded, lined the streets and perpetuated the city’s eery and monotonous uniformity.

  Even the streets were exactingly reproduced; never more than six lanes across. Null expressed a theory that the public transit perfectly accommodated the city’s travel needs to the point of making streets unnecessary to any but the most loyal of urban explorers. Ninety-Nine
, detecting the unspoken tension between herself and Null, readily agreed and inquired about the specifics of such a system.

  “I’m certain the transportation network is entirely underground. We’ve already seen portions of the overland network but the maps at the stations I’ve examined suggest hundreds of routes with thousand of trains capable of transporting millions of people in a day,” Null explained, her own voice holding the slightest note of condescension. Ninety-Nine graciously inquired further and further until she decided that she was redeemed in Null’s eyes.

  Ninety-Nine’s impressive genius seemed at odds with Null’s pragmatic intellect but something in their shared history, defined by their clouded memories, cajoled them both into staying on good terms. Eight felt herself sliding into the link between them; not intellectually, but socially. She could read them both with ease but Null and Ninety-Nine had difficulties understanding the other. Yet, as always, that tenuous friendship was there and persisted in binding them together.

  Eight kept her contributions short. She agreed as often as possible but realized that the only person she felt compelled to talk to was Seven. Not having the opportunity to talk to him made her feel hollow. As if she was wasting a rare chance to get to know him better. But how? How could she get to know Seven when the totality of their lives accumulated to mere hours?

  Her inner scientist, the scholar, began whispering to Eight that this whole experience had been engineered long ago. Too much of their trek through Haven was guided by the unseen forces that had dropped them across the city, hidden roses at the opera house, and placed supplies at the Great Library. Now, she and the others were on their way to a place known only as Rose Garden.

  Eight reviewed the circumstances thus far.

  Haven had been purged of life by a malevolent force hundreds of years ago. After successfully murdering everyone else how had the AdvISOR missed five people? How had the survivors endured the five centuries since then? Who was helping them along their journey through Haven?