Enter Lacey Wade. “Hey, feeling better?”
Before I have a chance to respond, Dani comes up behind me and throws her arms around my neck. “Hey sweetie!”
I bristle slightly and give Lacey an apologetic smile. She says, “Hey Dani. Congrats on Homecoming.”
They chit chat for a few minutes while I cram my stuff in my locker. Then, Lacey says she’ll see us later and Dani is standing there with her hand on her hip, as if she’s about ready to ask me something serious.
Instead, I beat her to it. “So where have you been all day?”
“I dunno. Basking in the adoration of my subjects?”
This doesn’t sound like something she’d come up with on her own. “Where’d you get that?”
Her smile derails me momentarily. Sort of like a luminous, broken clock. And all of a sudden, I, too, am one of her subjects.
Tess
I am laying on top of my bed, thinking about turning off the light. I have put away my dress and washed my face and my legs hurt from dancing. My eyes are getting heavy when my phone dings. Cricket is texting me.
-did he kiss you goodnight?
-what do you think?
-i’m thinking…YES!!!
-mhm…
-you two are sooo cute together
-and you had too much to drink
-only a little…
-so, you and Kurt had a thing going on
-OMG he’s a sweetheart!
-btw, you ready to give up ice cream?
-what??
-zach pulled me outside to talk tonight
-about what?
-stars… it was kinda weird… then Alex showed up, so we didn’t really get to talk
-i told you so…wonder what’s up with that? I mean, Dani was off doing her own thing
-i dunno.. no biggie. Anyway, i’m sorry we didn’t get to do the graveyard thing
-no prob…we’ll do it another time… anyway, had fun tonight
-me too…ok, ttyl
I haven’t had a chance to really think about what happened tonight. It all went by so fast. First, I couldn’t believe Alex and I were dancing together, then he started whispering in my ear. I remember thinking…he must be just messing with me. And then, it got real—fast. Before I knew it, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and we were sitting together on that loveseat at John Davis’s party…Alex playing with my hair, more whispering, kissing. My stomach whirls, remembering every small detail. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before—that he liked me—or why I didn’t even know that I liked him, too. Funny how blind we can be sometimes.
Every detail…I remember Alex tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear, drawing a heart on my knee with his finger. The realization that I really do have a working memory is like waking up, very suddenly, from a nightmare that I’m stuck in the same scene in a movie, going through it again and again, and never finishing it.
I feel relieved for a moment of feeling normal again. With thoughts of Alex and me, I drift off to sleep.
The next morning, I wake up with my head still throbbing and I feel completely exhausted. I’m awake for like three seconds, then I slip back into sleep. When I wake up three hours later, my mom has left me a bagel and some juice by my bed, along with a note that she went out shopping for a while. I check my phone and there is one text from Cricket and two from Alex:
-i’m sorry u don’t feel good… feel better soon.
-i miss u
The second one was just a few minutes ago. I reply:
-feeling a little better… just woke up
-good to hear… what was going on anyway?
-bad headache… and just tired
-are u up for me swinging by after school or are u going to be napping?
-i should be up…
-good, i’ll see u then…bye sweetie
-see u… <3
-<3
I think the last few days have just caught up to me. A lot has happened. I mean it’s not every week that you search for clues in a graveyard, go to your first school dance, and snag a boyfriend. Maybe I’m just feeling the emotional stress, somehow triggered by the dream I had last night. I hope it’s just that, and not somehow related to my head injury and memory loss. Things have been going good, actually, and I haven’t even been missing my memories, really. I mean there are a few holes here and there, but nothing major.
It occurs to me, what it would be like to go through life and suddenly have a bunch of forgotten or repressed memories suddenly surface. What a shock it would be, to realize things have never been what they seemed to be. I really hope that doesn’t happen to me… it would just be crazy and way too much drama. I am reminded, again, of that movie, It’s A Wonderful Life, and how George Bailey got to see what the town would look like if he’d never been born. It wasn’t the same. He panics, but then ends up learning from it. He appreciates his life because he realizes that all these people he’s influenced over the years would be missing something important. He made a difference. But it took seeing the world without him to learn that.
What would my life look like if I were missing an important memory—a person, maybe—someone who made a huge impact on me? First of all, wouldn’t they be really mad at me for forgetting what they did? And second of all, how would it change me to suddenly know?
I sigh. There’s no way to spontaneously jumpstart my memory. The only thing I can do is start now, by making a point to be aware when someone does something nice for me or impacts me in a good way. Starting now…
With that in mind, I get out my phone and send my mom a text:
-thank you, mom, for letting me stay home today… i feel much better. Also, thank you for the breakfast. It was yummy. I love you.
Zach
All right. It’s time to get to the bottom of this once and for all. First of all, I have this freaking memory chip, and apparently, my dad is accessing it somehow. Second of all, he wants me to destroy it. Third, I had a very intense memory/dream about Tess and me that I just can’t seem to shake, despite her new budding romance with Alex. Add to the mix the fact that Dani currently has me mesmerized, despite her questionable behavior, and I am one screwed up individual.
I go straight home from school, get out a notebook and start writing down all these points, and anything else that comes to mind—basically, what Miss Collins would call brainstorming. After rambling for a few minutes, I start to make lists.
Things I Know For Sure
Somehow, either directly or indirectly, I have been given insight into my father’s mind and thoughts…. Either via my father himself, an insightful third person, or myself.
Whoever it is wants the memory chips to be destroyed.
I like Tess.
I like Dani.
Dani doesn’t act like she feels quite the same about me.
I want to do what’s right.
I am confused.
Things I Don’t Know, But Would Like To
Where is this “insight into my father’s mind and thoughts” coming from?
Why my sudden interest and/or seeming proficiency in poetry?
What is it like to time travel (I’ve never done it)? And, should I?
Is it possible to sync two memory chips together (i.e., mine and Tess’s) so that we both share the same memories?
Why doesn’t Tess seem to notice me at all? I mean, if what we supposedly have is so strong, then wouldn’t it make sense that some of it would transcend the mechanism (i.e., the memory chip)? If my father is so worried about natural progression and emotion, then why no spark of anything from Tess?
Things That Are Significant But Might Otherwise Go Unnoticed
Robert Frost’s poem and the reference to the clock…that time is “neither wrong nor right.”
Fun song’s lyrics…. Go on if you were thinking that the worst is yet to come…
Dani talking to John Davis before school.
Tess and Cricket showing up at the same graveyard where my father is bur
ied.
I pause, lay my pen down and read back through. I have the urge to underline “Is it possible to sync two memory chips,” so I do. Then, I sit back in my chair and consider it.
Keen observations, I must say. If this were an English assignment, I’d probably get an “A” on it. Of course. Now consider this: Have you missed anything?
Ok, yes, indeed I have. I add the following to my list of “Things I Don’t Know But Would Like To:” Is my father really communicating to me via the mind?
I would really like to know that, because these random thoughts are driving me crazy. So I think, pushing my mind to its limits…. ARE you communicating with me?
The human brain only uses 10 percent of its capacity, did you know that?
I scoff. That came straight out of my science textbook. Of course. This is just me, remembering things…making connections among things. Maybe I’m getting smarter. Or maybe…I’m losing it.
I am more frustrated now than when I started. I close the notebook and throw it in my desk drawer. Now what?
Time travel. I have been all wrapped up in the idea of it…reading The Time Machine countless times, obsessing about what happened in the past with Tess…and what will happen…I have never even considered the fact that I have the ability to find out for myself. I have a memory chip. I have the research logs. I have the simulator, for practice.
I recall setting Tess up with the simulator, before she returned to the scene of her accident and rescued Dani. She was afraid, and then when she came to me and begged to go back, I’d warned her about the dangers of changing the past…the impact it would have on the future. The impact had been Dani…and Dani’s presence had, indeed, changed the future for Tess and me. While Tess was lost in a coma for four years, Dani was still alive, and we bonded, our friendship growing and growing until it became something more—whether by my own seeking of it or simply the natural progression of things. I have to wonder…if things had remained as they ended up—with Tess in the coma and Dani alive, without the alternate series of events that brought Tess and I together in the first place—would Dani and I have been destined to be together? Or was my father’s research right all along? That it was Tess, all along?
Negative capability… remember?
Was Dani brought back to secure the presence of doubt in my mind? To be a realistic obstacle to the relationship with Tess that was written in the stars? Who’s to say? What if my father is wrong? Add that to my list of things I don’t know…
Things you don’t know. Mysteries. Uncertainties. It’s all part of life…the sooner you get comfortable with that, the sooner you will find true happiness.
I’m starting to get annoyed. Annoyed that my father spent all this time on a project that ends in a big question mark. Annoyed that I don’t understand. Annoyed that I’m conflicted in what I want.
Sometimes I think that there are parts of my memory that are incomplete. It would make sense. If they were complete, then I would know the answers. I would know…how I really feel about Tess and Dani, from the beginning.
Memory is never complete…it exists as fragments, only to be revived when prompted by another memory, some sensation that created an emotion.
Ok, that definitely didn’t come from my science book.
If that is so, then there are indeed missing pieces. Of course. I certainly don’t remember everything from when I was a child, for example. I remember specific things…details, but it is always fragmented. Is this a phenomenon specific to childhood, or does it continue throughout adulthood?
Assuming that it does, I realize there is only one thing that I can do, right now, that will help me figure all this out.
The simulator. The big question being…what moment will I choose to relive?
In a moment of decisive action, I put on my shoes and head downstairs. I tell my mom I’m going out with the guys and get in my car, with only one destination in mind: My father’s laboratory.
It is dusk. The building has been up for rent or sale now for about a year, with no prospects. My mother has kept the electricity on to maintain the climate inside the building. She’s mentioned a few times that we need to go over sometime and clear out my father’s things, but for some reason it never happens. It’s as if she wants to keep some part of my father alive…not to disturb what he left—the one significant thing that he left, besides her and I. She doesn’t understand any of it. We’ve never discussed his research in detail. I’m not even sure she knows anything about it.
Just before I get out of the car, I stop to check my email on my phone. There is a message from my father:
September 11, 2012
TO: Zach Webb
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: What you need to know
My dear Zach,
I am aware of your confusion, and I worry about how you will proceed. Will you trust me? Everything you need to know is outside of that building. Truth be known, I’d prefer the contents of my files to be destroyed along with the chips. It will only bring more confusion. The heart prevails, above all things…above science and measurement…beyond time. And so I ask again, will you trust me? Download the geocaching app from the following link, and follow the clues.
Affectionately,
E.G.W.
Geocaching? Isn’t that what Tess was talking to me about the other day? What the heck. I start searching for the app while listening to music on my car stereo. Once downloaded, it tells me that there is a geocache nearby. It takes me a few minutes to figure out what to do, but I am supposed to follow the blue dot. The blue dot, apparently, has all the answers…at least the beginning of all the answers I need.
I get out of the car, my eyes fixed on the blue dot…walking closer to the building. Wait—I thought everything I needed was outside the building? Anyway, I move closer, and the dot flashes faster and faster, indicating that I am getting close.
I notice that there is a clue on the app, so I load it up.
It reads:
Mortal alliteration will give you piece of mind.
It’s cryptic. Great. I am not good at this sort of thing at all, and yet, I have a momentary flashback to my comments in English class today. Maybe I’m not that bad at interpreting things, after all. Ok. I will start with the word I don’t know. Alliteration. I Google it and find that it is a convention in poetry where consonant sounds are repeated. I look around, as if I might see a book of poetry lying around open somewhere, with the answer in it.
Feeling like an idiot, I just stand there, staring at those words. Mortal, of course, means death. So I’m dealing with some poem about death that uses alliteration? And why is piece spelled the way it is? Shouldn’t it be peace? Out of curiosity, I type “mortal alliteration” into my browser. Why not? The search reveals nothing.
Ok… approaching this from a literal standpoint, how about dead poetry? Cool idea, but it doesn’t help.
Almost immediately, there is another message from my father:
September 11, 2012
TO: Zach Webb
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: What you need to know
You may be wondering why I am now sending messages via email, rather than mindspeak (my non-technical term for the other method). Quite simply, it’s because you are beginning to get confused and I do not want to upset you.
Let me help you with the clue. The alliteration refers to the word “mortal” itself and the place where the clue will be found…in this case, the mortar.
Good luck.
Affectionately,
E.G.W.
In the mortar? Of course, the bricks on the outside of the building. And now that I notice they are crumbling apart, the word piece makes perfect sense. I am looking for a hole where a piece has fallen away, and there will be the clue.
I find yet another clue, hidden inside a small cylinder. Presumably, the clue will lead me to another location. I find myself wondering how long this search and find game will go on, but then I remember that it will help me dis
cover everything I need to know, so it doesn’t really matter how long it takes. I’m in it for the goal: Understanding, knowledge, and most of all… peace.
When I was eight years old, my father got me a microscope for my birthday. I tore open the package with abandon and immediately went to work setting it up. My father sat in his chair watching me with a smile, occasionally nodding in approval. After a few minutes, he plucked a hair from the arm of his sweater and held it out.
“Here, try looking at this,” he said.
I was skeptical, but I took it anyway, and carefully placed it on the slide. I got frustrated after five minutes of fiddling with the thing, trying to see it. Finally, my father knelt beside me and made some adjustments. “Now try.”
It was nothing short of amazing. The hair, magnified four hundred times its size, looked like a ridged, flaky stem from some dried up plant. The edges of the hair were clearly defined, and the texture was uniform. I simply couldn’t believe what I was seeing, that a tiny sliver of hair looked like that.
“Well, what do you think?” He asked.
“It’s really cool,” I replied, my mind beginning to race with thoughts of what else I could stick under the microscope.
“The universe is an enormous, mysterious place,” he said. “There are many things we will never see with our eyes. And yet, here it is.”
This is my thought, as I stand next to my father’s grave in the dark, with a flashlight, examining the next clue.
It cannot be a coincidence that this is where Cricket and Tess were here that day my mother and I planted the flowers. Tess and Cricket had been looking for something, and the thought occurs to me—as ridiculous as it seems—that perhaps they were looking for the same thing I am now.
Surfacing (Spark Saga) Page 14