The Amnesia Experiment: A Young Adult Dystopian Novel

by Caroline Wei

  Red.

  “Congratulations,” an automated voice blared. “You have completed Trial Four.”

  33

  Malchin

  I’d never seen somebody so upset.

  Clarice didn’t try to run, but Alle had still ordered the rest of us who had strength to stand around her, like substitute prison bars. She was trembling, pushing her fingers to her mouth, again and again.

  “How could you do something like this?” she asked, her voice strangled.

  Clarice’s eyes didn’t look like the eyes of a murderer. I had expected sarcasm and shamelessness, a reckless toss of the head. But she had the eyes of a child.

  She lowered her head.

  Alle tightened her arms around her chest. “I wish I hated you more.”

  Victoria looked between Clarice and Alle, something unreadable in her expression.

  “You hate so many people, Alle,” Clarice whispered.

  “What was going on in your head?” Alle gasped. “You saw yourself the marks on Anna’s neck. You did that.”

  At Anna’s name, Adisa’s jaw clenched, hard. It seemed as if he was barely restraining himself.

  Since the robotic voice announced Trial Four was over, the snow had started receding into invisible walls, the feeble plantlife of the tundra poking back through. Maria had started another fire, and we’d filled our stomachs with the red brambly plants. Food had been much too long awaited to taste bad.

  “I’m sorry,” Clarice whispered.

  “You should be ashamed!” Cords stood out on Alle’s forehead. “You were part of this, you know that? Part of this demented Cube and whoever helped make it happen. You know things, don’t you?”

  Clarice sighed.

  “YOU HAVE ALL YOUR MEMORIES! ALL THIS TIME, YOU HAD THEM!”

  I reached out to touch Alle’s arm, saying her name. She shook me off.

  “How dare you stand by and let us suffer? How dare you leave us in the dark when you knew exactly what was going on?” Alle yanked Clarice to her feet, and the two were nose to nose, eye to eye. “Tell us everything. Now.”

  Victoria stepped between them. “Alle, stop. Please. Right now is the time we need to unite and get our heads together. We need to prepare.”

  “This could help us prepare!”

  “You’ll only make things worse.”

  “Worse? How can things possibly get worse?”

  Victoria opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by what we all knew was inevitable and yet still feared so much.

  “Initiating Trial Five in three seconds.”

  The countdown clock flickered on again, and Alle stumbled back from Clarice, her face flushed crimson. The numbers reached zero and all was still but for Alle’s heaving breaths.

  Then, a deep rumbling came up from the earth, rattling the very bones in my body. Adisa stumbled into me, and I reached to steady him. Something gigantic was emerging from the ground—a metal wall. Tall, sleek, impenetrable, it sprouted up from the soil right where the fire was, stifling the flames and crunching through the plant fuel. I didn’t realize it was separating me from Alle until the wall was shoulder-length.

  “Malchin!” she exclaimed from her side, jumping up.

  I tried to pull myself up onto the other side, but the wall was moving too fast. Alle’s fingers kissed the top before she disappeared out of sight altogether.

  “Alle!”

  Her fists slammed into the wall. Victoria and Clarice were on her side, while Adisa, Maria, Oliver, and the toddler were on mine. I pressed my forehead against the cool metal, hoping that we could all make it through this, even without each other.

  Because how many more trials could there possibly be left?

  34

  CarLen

  I wondered what would have happened if things had been different.

  35

  Oliver

  The meeting was supposed to be short, but it had taken over two hours already. I sat in the VR room at the palace back in Caesitas, watching the 3D images of rulers all around the globe heatedly discuss the Amnesia Experiment. King Theodore, from Viola, was speaking, his European accent thick.

  “I’m sorry, but there’s no way Viola can officially oppose the Experiment. You have to understand, Niveus is one of our biggest trade partners and the repercussions of such an action would be catastrophic. I insist that my people live in comfort, and this is not the way to do it.”

  You mean you want your family to live in comfort, I thought sardonically. King Theodore was a widower, but his two daughters, Princesses Rosalynd and Adriana, were supermodels and TV personalities. Rosalynd was much less spoiled and was getting married next summer, but Adriana was insufferable.

  “That’s what you’ve been saying for the past thirty minutes, Your Majesty,” the ruler of Indicum, Gabriel Montez, commented. His uniform was stitched with a ringing bell, Indicum’s national symbol. “But evil is not solved by comfort. And that’s exactly what my country sees this as. Evil. You cannot treat humans like guinea pigs and expect to get away with it. I am sure that my predecessors from before the World War—those who led the United States and Canada—would agree. Liberty is one of the strongest ideals we’ve ever held.”

  “We may not be expected to take any drastic action just yet,” Queen Ximena, a woman in her late thirties, said. Her eyes sparked with youth and wisdom. VIRIDIS flashed under her tanned face and shoulders, proclaiming her country. “Niveus is melting. The South Pole can’t hold out for too long. Queen Carlen would be unwise to spend so many resources on something as unproductive as the Experiment.”

  “Is it really unproductive, though?”

  I stared daggers at the speaker, a well-built man with ebony skin and a graying beard, dressed in an amber-colored suit. “After all, who are we to mess with Niveus’ rituals? Every country has a different way of welcoming an ascending heir. I think this isn’t really anyone’s business but Niveus.’”

  “King Khari,” I snapped, “crimes against humanity are everybody’s business.”

  There was a brief silence as everyone wondered why a nineteen-year-old was even in this council of world leaders.

  “I agree,” Queen Mahek, from Aurantiaco, said, looking at me kindly. Her orange scarf covered her dark curly hair. “Although it would be very risky to anger Carlen in any way. Maintaining world peace has been a struggle ever since her husband—” she paused. “Ever since she changed.”

  The king from Aes steepled his fingers, looking anxious. “What’s more important? Ethics or politics?”

  There was another tense silence.

  “Well it’s clear we’re not going to get anything accomplished talking in circles like this,” King Aleksandr from Thalassius said. I relaxed as much as one possibly could in a situation like this. Thalassius had often backed Caesitas in the past. “I’ve been in contact with Queen Carlen, and she has never been happy with Pri—excuse me, King—Oliver continuously rejecting requests for land. Caesitas, even being in the Southern Ocean and the closest to Niveus, has been perfectly safe.”

  “For now,” Queen Ximena interjected. “Safety can never be guaranteed where Niveus is involved.”

  My eyes drifted against my will towards the spot where King Ichiro or Queen Meiyu usually occupied. I’d even seen Princess Malaya a couple times at these meetings, when Father was still alive and I could sit in and listen. But the spot, lined with streaming red text that read RUBRUM, was empty. In their place was the national flag, a red background with a gold sun, the image that showed up when representatives were absent.

  I slammed my fist against my desk, knowing the sound carried over the audio, and stood up, jaw clenched. “How dare you think about such petty things when two crown heirs are being endangered, not to mention countless innocent lives from all of your respective homelands? The Amnesia draft took place in every country, taking citizens from every country, killing people from every country! This is an offense against each and every one of us!”


  Banging drums roared in my ears, my vision streaming scarlet, until I realized nobody was saying anything. Everyone stared.

  “First of all, everyone here believed that the draft was a noble process in a national policy to introduce the princess to her responsibilities on the throne. There was no warning of how bloody it would be,” Queen Mahek said, one dark eyebrow arched. “And second of all, there is a way to behave at meetings such as these, Your Majesty, and that is not the way to do it. I understand the subject matter is more urgent than normal, but that is no way to act.”

  My new advisors would be mortified. I sat back down. “I stand by my point.”

  “And the point was heard,” King Khari replied, waving a careless hand. “I think it’s time to call the meeting, Your Majesties. We’ll arrange another time to discuss this further.” His spot flickered to a yellow flag, for Flavus, as he signed off. All around me, rulers and leaders disappeared, until I was the only one left.

  I lowered my head to my clasped hands. I couldn’t stop thinking about Alle, lying dead on the ground, her eyes open to the merciless sky. Blood streaking her teeth, neck twisted in the wrong direction, and never knowing what used to be.

  36

  Alle

  I spent the days with my back against the wall. There was an unspoken pact for everyone to just leave me alone. Victoria started another fire and tried to get me to drink water out of plant straws she’d made, sometimes making small talk, but I couldn’t carry conversation. My eyes stayed locked on the sky, on the ground, anywhere but at Clarice. I thought if I looked at her, she would be nothing but blood and flesh, maybe a cracked rib cage, smushed into the ground, in three seconds flat.

  It was interesting what changed as less and less people—namely Malchin—surrounded me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d depended on his steady strength until now. He was the person who had always offered—not unconditional approval, but unconditional compassion—for me.

  The only things that I really did was sit, sleep, and breathe a little. I was just so tired of the Trials, of trying so hard to stay alive, of keeping one step ahead. What if I didn’t want to be one step ahead anymore? Was it even worth it?

  There was no knowledge of whether all this would end or not, quite honestly. It would be a real laugh if this was my entire existence. Fighting, thirsting, fighting, hiding, fighting. Oh, and eating unidentified weeds.

  A hysterical giggle bubbled from my mouth. I held up an emaciated hand. Maybe I was destined to live like this forever. It was too funny.

  Uncontrollable laughter hiccupped out of me, and Victoria got up. “Alle, are you alright?”

  If I let it all out, I would never stop. I smashed my hands against my lips, trying to keep glee inside like helium in an untied balloon. I was shaking, shaking, I’ll die if I start, think of anything else, anything else, like lavender and silky string and kites that get torn and keys and electricity, pink soap that foams. Chocolate waffles. Funnel cake.

  Tears stung my eyes, my jaw aching from clenching it too hard. The hysteria dissolved into sadness. Funnel cake. The memory of it lingered in my mind, sugar tickling my nose, and yet I couldn’t remember ever tasting it. Was it soft, satisfying, did it smell like home? Did I like the crispy kind or the kind that sighed like a pillow?

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, and Victoria sat back down, her eyebrows drawn.

  “You need to watch your health,” she said. “You’re fading away before my eyes.”

  Clarice shifted in her position a few feet away, and fire flared up immediately inside of me.

  “The only thing that would help my health now would be to see you punished,” I spat in her general direction, because how could I look her in the eyes?

  There was an exhausted silence, and I leaned my head back against the wall, knowing the others were on the opposite side.

  The clouds in the sky looked so real, and yet I knew they were part of the simulation. Still, they seemed to shimmer in my vision, stretching and splitting like cotton candy until they were different clouds, from another time, another life.

  I was twelve years old. Checkered blue dress, fur shawl. Pigtails. A boy in burgundy sat in front of me, his hair sticking up in all directions. We were on a hill dusted with snow, having a picnic. Ants floated in my milk. Taking a swim, I told myself.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the game before,” he said, sifting his hands through a box filled with tiles. They clattered against each other, brown and white and glaze. “It’s a game from before the War. Called Scrabble.”

  Mother never had any board games in the palace. Not anymore, at least.

  “No,” I said. I bet Ollie would like it. He liked fun of all kinds but got in trouble too much.

  “Would you like for me to teach you how to play?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “If anyone asks, say I was talking to you about the old constitution of Rubrum. I know your mom doesn’t like it when us kids talk about more than strictly business.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  The boy smiled at me. It was a nice smile. “Basically you’re trying to make words with the tiles that you’re given. The more unique, the more points, the better. If you win, I’ll give you a prize.”

  I looked at those gleaming squares, each one with a thick black letter. They looked archaic. They looked mysterious. They looked exciting. “Well, then. What’s the prize?”

  “I’ll read to you from one of my favorite books of all time.”

  Fireflies sparked in my chest. There was one library at home that I loved being in, but a person could only read so many books so many times. I’d plain run out.

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  And so we played. Underneath the warm sun in the icy sky, words were strung into being, floating in the air and sweeping into our mouths. The tiles clicked against each other like music. Leprechaun. Solstice. Reminisce. Trifold. Bangladesh.

  “Is that a word?” the boy asked, tilting his head.

  “Yes!” I laughed. “Haven’t you been learning your history?”

  He flushed the same color as his country flag. “I don’t pay attention in history. It’s literature I like best.”

  “Hm. Well, the people of Bangladesh are part of Aurantiaco now.”

  Words spilled out of our hands, falling like rain onto the board, disappearing and reappearing. All the while, our milk got drained and our croissants were eaten.

  You are pretty, the boy spelled.

  A furnace burned in my throat. “That’s three words.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You lose.”

  “I know.”

  I cleared my throat and shifted into a more comfortable position. Hanging out with him was different from hanging out with Ollie. Ollie never really invited me to do anything, except for when he needed someone to show his magic tricks to. Mostly I listened to him play the piano. That was his one great love.

  “So you have to give me my prize?”

  “That I do.” The boy pulled a small book out from underneath his coat, a book with a torn cover that had obviously suffered water damage and a couple of pencil attacks. A book as well loved and familiar as an old friend. The Chronicles of Narnia was printed in gold lettering on its cracked spine.

  “It’s not a very long piece,” he said, fingering the book lovingly. “But I really like it.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “‘Wherever Edmund's eyes turned he saw birds alighting on branches, or sailing overhead or chasing one another or having their little quarrels or tidying up their feathers with their beaks. ‘Faster! Faster!’ said the Witch. There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the faces of the travelers. The trees began to come fully alive. The larches
and birches were covered with green, the laburnums with gold. Soon the beech trees had put forth their delicate, transparent leaves. As the travelers walked under them the light also became green.’”

  He paused and looked up at me, his finger marking his place in the book. There was something in his gaze that seemed to be telling me something, and I became all too aware of the sharp bite of the winter air around us. The boy kept looking, as if by capturing me with his eyes he could make the snow dissolve from the trees and the ice crack beneath us.

  Then his face flickered, like he had realized what he had just done, what he had just told the daughter of the South Pole queen. There were a few beats of silence, a few ticks of a pendulum, and the fear faded from his expression.

  “There’s another passage I want to read to you,” he said slowly, as if waiting for me to object. When I didn’t, the pages in his hands rustled, the sound soft and pretty in my ears.

  “‘Courage, dear heart.’”

  That was it.

  Nature breathed, and I sat, and he waited.

  I knew without asking what he wanted me to know. What he hoped for me to become, one day.

  Then I was falling into the sky.

  The clouds flipped backwards, and water rushed into my eyes, my ears, my body lengthening, the bones popping and the joints screeching like something unoiled.

  When I regained control of myself again, I was older, standing in Mother’s quarters, in a large, luxurious room, beside her giant canopied bed, draped all in black. The wallpaper shined with gold and silver motifs, and a floor-to-ceiling window stood framed with heavy velvet curtains hung with snowflake tassels. Mother was pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, her pale forehead wrinkled like a piece of paper.

  Today was the Recordati, the worst day of the year for Mother. She planned and waited for today, going through the pains of making sure everything was in pristine order. And yet, she hated it happening.