Imaginations

by Tara Brown

  He squeezed my hand and turned sharply. He pulled me through the crowd. I started to feel sick, but I chanted inside of my head that tomorrow was a new day and the pain of today would be gone with my memories. Tears were forming in my eyes.

  He dragged me through the crowd to the dark hallway. His hand gripped mine. It was familiar. There was something in my mind that struggled with the feeling of him pulling me down the dark hall. We passed people kissing and touching each other almost violently.

  My stomach dropped. He would be touching me like that. He would be rubbing against me. My head twitched as I bounced off of couples barring the way. He pulled me to the farthest part of the hall where the door was. He pushed me against the wall, looking down on me with his intense stare. “I’m going to kiss you. Just stay calm, okay?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes. I felt his body fold toward mine. He slid his hands behind me, gripping me tightly. I listened to the sound of the singer and licked my lips nervously as I prepared for his to press against them.

  It dawned on me suddenly—I didn’t need to fear him. I knew the feel of him against me. I knew him. He had kissed me before. Flashes filled my confused mind. They were filled with images of him against me, our mouths moving fervently, his hands gripping at my skin desperately.

  None of that happened. Instead, his lips pressed one soft kiss in the crook of my neck. Once there, he whispered softly, “I’m going to lead you out of here. I need to speak to you, and I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. I could never. Trust me, Gwyn.”

  Against everything I believed and trusted, I nodded my head. I let the curiosity of what he was to me, and my fuzzy memories that shouldn’t exist, win. My hands slid up his stomach to his chest. With my eyes closed, I let my body move in a way it somehow knew. His mask rubbed against mine as I turned my face to his. Softly, I pressed a single kiss on his cheek. “I remember you.”

  I felt him tense against my whispered words. His breath hitched in my nape, “You do.” It was a statement.

  “I do. I know you.” My hands slid up his neck to his cheeks. Running my fingertips against his cheeks brought more memories. There were dozens of different masks and images of similar hallways. The dresses were a variation of the three I owned, but the only real difference in the nights was the boy who Amber danced with.

  He took my hand slowly and turned, leaving the building. He ran when he reached the street, dragging me quickly around a corner. We ran until we reached the water. He pulled me down to a long wooden thing on the water. It floated. Wood floated? I knew that. I didn’t know what that was though. I’d never come to the water. It was polluted.

  When we stepped, water spurted up between the cracks of the boards.

  “Is this safe?”

  He looked back at me, grinning. “No.”

  I liked that, at least I thought I did. When we reached the end, he didn’t look at me. He looked down the long wooden float.

  “This pier is watched but not recorded.”

  I frowned at him. “This is what you wanted from me when I said anything? To stand on an unsafe wooden board above the water?”

  He smiled and the world stopped. He nodded. “It is.” He let go of my hand. “What do you remember?”

  I shook my head, not as frightened as I should have been. “I don’t know. You in the hallway at the club. You telling me your name. The smell of the orchards when you get on the tram in the morning. The way your hand brushes against mine when you sit beside me.” I remembered other things, but I was getting lost in it all. I swore I could smell the apples.

  His face lit up. “Oh, thank God. It’s taken me months, but I’ve had to be so careful.”

  He seemed friendly, less interested in touching my skin against his. I still wanted that. The strange feeling inside of me made me almost sick.

  “Tomorrow I need you to remember something. They’re going to offer you memory maker or even higher. You have the fastest mind they’ve seen in years.” His smile faded. “I know you don’t want to because of your parents, but I need you to take the job they offer you.”

  I took a step back from him, feeling the wood squish down into the water, “How could you know that? Who are you?”

  His eyes glistened. “I’m a friend of Roy’s.”

  My eyes widened. “How could you know that name?” I was shaking from the mention of the name of my dead dog. He had been my best friend when I was little. No one but me, Greg, and our parents should remember him. I shook my head. “You have to leave me alone.”

  “You remembered your dog had died the day after he was dead. Didn’t you? You scared your teacher with that memory.” He stepped closer.

  I shook my head, closing my eyes. “If you’re going to hurt me, just do it. I just want to forget.”

  His hands grabbed my arms, shaking me slightly. “Look at me.”

  I shook my head but he didn’t budge. I opened one eye. “What?”

  He swallowed. “They know you remembered the dog. Your teacher recorded it. You have a file, like all of us. You must take the job they offer you tomorrow. You must remember this.”

  I felt a tear slip down my cheek. “You’re scaring me.”

  He nodded. “I’m trying to scare you. You react to passionate moments. Your memories work against the reset when your emotions are heightened. The death of a beloved pet, the removal of your brother from your life, the end of school, me. All of these things have triggered memories in you. They know this. Your brother sent me—Greg sent me to save you and told me to say Roy’s name.”

  I pulled away from him. “Why would he ask you to help me? You don’t know me.”

  He nodded once. “I owed him for sparing me.

  Designation Day

  The light filtered in the window. I saw the glow of it from behind my closed blinds. I squeezed my eyes tighter and moaned. I didn’t think mornings were my thing. I didn’t think they ever had been. It felt wrong to wake up, unnatural.

  "Gwyn, it's time to get up."

  I opened my eyes to see her smiling face. She seemed happy. I couldn’t remember if she was happy the last time I saw her. I couldn’t place time on her face, or my day.

  I scowled at her smile. "Mom, I don’t want to go." I was beyond tired.

  She pointed toward my bathroom. "Check your list. Let's go, sleepy head. Big day today." She pressed the button on the wall. The blinds lifted completely. My eyes stung.

  Pulling back the blankets, I growled. I padded in bare feet to the bathroom. It took a second for the switch in my brain to turn on. I looked around the room blankly until I saw it. My hand reached out automatically and grabbed the toothbrush. I put the toothpaste on and looked at it for the smallest second. I looked at myself in the mirror.

  I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. She looked confused. I opened my lips and put the brush in my mouth. I almost gagged when the paste hit my tongue. I slid it back and forth on my teeth; mechanical reactions were all that kept our society going. We had even watched screen stories on brushing teeth when we were little.

  The list of my routine for the day flashed on the wall. My eyes fuzzed for a second, still waking up and not ready to read.

  Walk to tram

  Catch the city tram

  Job Designation Building 746, Floor 8, Room 811

  Lunch - directions to follow

  It flashed over and over.

  Job designation. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember that I would get a job. I just didn’t remember that it was today.

  "Job designation today," I whispered. My blue eyes sparkled suddenly.

  I spit and rinsed.

  "Makeup and hair," Mom said from the doorway to my bedroom. Her eyes flickered on the cupboards below the sink. "You excited about today?" she asked.

  I shook my head. "I don’t remember much about it."

  She smiled. She was so pretty, with long curly blonde hair, light-blue eyes, and a smile that made me feel happy.

  I glanced back at the jo
b I was doing. The makeup felt funny when I put it on my face. She had gotten it for me.

  "Here, let me." She took the brushes. "Close your eyes, Gwyn."

  I closed them, trusting her. I never questioned it. She was my mom. I trusted her.

  "It'll get easier, honey. The routine will start to make the memories. Once you start a job, you'll be stunned at how easy it gets, and yet harder at the same time." She sighed. "I forget what it's like to be your age. It's nice to be so free. Trust me, as the memories start to sink in, it gets harder. This feels like you're floating and alone, but it's the best part of life. Enjoy it while it lasts, and you're free from the burdens of memories that you gain as you age."

  I nodded. "Okay."

  "Open your eyes."

  When I did, I saw her concentrating look. She smiled again. She was so pretty. I wondered if I looked like her. She brushed something along my lips.

  "Look how grown up you are! My pretty girl." She turned my face. I did look pretty. I looked just like her. She ran her fingers through my hair, making the soft curls bounce but getting rid of the frizz.

  She smiled at me in the mirror, and I couldn’t help but notice the way we looked the same. "You look beautiful. It'll make you feel better all day, more confident. Good way to feel on designation day. It’s why I worked so hard to get this makeup. It’s not easy to come by anymore."

  I swallowed and nodded. "I know. Thank you."

  She swatted me on the butt. "Go get dressed. I put your new city clothes on your bed. I will be downstairs getting your breakfast. Hurry and wash your hands extra well; the makeup sticks from the grease in it."

  She turned and left, but I stayed and looked at myself. I looked different. The images of the thousands of times I'd looked in the mirror flashed in my mind. I could see it clearly. I grabbed a curl and sprung it. It bounced, making me smile.

  I turned on the hot water. It always took a few minutes to get it going. I stared at my face. Something felt different. I shook it off as designation day. I washed my hands when the water got warm, removing the makeup from them.

  I finished dressing in the black slacks and a gray blouse. I looked drab. I liked that word. Drab. We always looked drab. The pants and blouse were the city workers uniform. Our school clothes were a bit nicer, but honestly, the only way I knew we wore drab clothing was the fancy dress hanging in my closet.

  I sighed and looked at my reflection. At least my face looked pretty. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed a funny bulge in my pants pocket. I slipped a hand into my pocket. There was a piece of paper. I never used paper, except at school, and even then, we used our white boards. Paper was harder to come by. I pulled it out, noting that it was in my own writing. I frowned at the words.

  TAKE WHATEVER JOB THEY OFFER YOU AND BE GRATEFUL AND EXCITED

  I ran my fingers over the letters. Why would I write that down? I never believed in disobeying the rule of yesterday. I believed in a new day, every day. Something was wrong. My stomach started to hurt. I folded the paper and walked to the toilet. I wrapped it in tissue paper and flushed it. The words made my mind numb, but I didn’t have time to make a big deal of it.

  When I got downstairs, Mom had a breakfast plate set. The smell of the food made my stomach feel funny. I didn’t feel like eating. I rubbed my hands over my belly and moaned, "No breakfast, thank you." The note had made me sick.

  She frowned. "You okay?"

  I shook my head. "My belly hurts." I felt a burning in my throat. I winced and she laughed.

  She put a hand over mine. "It's nerves, honey. You're nervous."

  I shook my head. "I think I'm not feeling well. Can I do designation day another day?"

  She brushed her fingers along my hairline and grabbed my face, kissing my cheeks. "It's nerves. Trust me. It's because you've got to go get your job today. You'll be great. You're a smart girl. Get it over with."

  I gave her a phony smile and looked around. "Where's Dad?"

  She passed me a glass filled with red liquid. "Work. He had to leave early."

  I nodded. "Okay." I drank the red liquid and scowled. "What is it?"

  She chuckled. "Beet juice. Drink up."

  I shuddered. I knew I hated beets.

  She grabbed the sides of my face and smiled. “You are pretty and relaxed and happy with the life you have. You are happy for your brother and good in school. You want to be open-minded about love and relationships. You live in the technology section of the walled-in area. We are grateful for the second chance we’ve gotten within these walls. You believe in a new day. You know it’s wrong to share about feelings or memories that could scare other people into thinking the new day is gone for you. You are loving and gentle and respectable . . .”

  A knock at the door interrupted our daily chanting.

  She pointed at the glass of room-temperature beet juice. "Finish it,” she said and left the room to get the door.

  I smiled when I heard the voice greeting her. At least Amber would cheer me up, and I wouldn’t have to finish the beet juice. I put the glass on the counter and ran for the door. "Bye, Mom." I grabbed my coat and clutch and bolted for the door.

  "Love you, Gwyn!" Mom yelled from the door. I waved back at her and dragged Amber down the driveway.

  "Hurry, she made beet juice." I looked back at her, closing the door. “She's going to be angry when she sees I left it.”

  We walked fast for the tracks.

  I pulled my handheld out of my clutch, where my mom always put it in the morning. I looked at Amber. "Big day."

  She grinned at me. "It is. You excited?"

  I shook my head. "No. My belly hurts. You?"

  She frowned. "Me too. Mom made me pancakes with buckwheat. They weren't very good. I don’t think I like buckwheat. She said I did, but moms could say we like anything. How are we supposed to know, unless we hate it consistently for months?"

  I laughed. “I remember I hate beets.”

  She scowled. “Lucky.”

  The tram stop in our neighborhood was empty. The only people who left at this time were the random people heading into the city. Not many people took the second tram. The students took the first tram. Parents stayed home until the third tram. The second tram was for people going to the city for appointments and such.

  We walked up to the clear plastic shelter and sat on the pristine white benches.

  We sat and waited. I looked around at the neighborhood and wondered if I would be given a house here, or if I would be moved. There was a fear that I would be placed lower. I shuddered at the thought. I liked our neighborhood. The houses were modest and clean. Everyone got their own rooms and had a yard. The people in the orchards lived in tiny houses and the factory people lived in apartments. "I don't remember the testing or the discussions on job designations. Do you?"

  She smiled and shook her head. "Not really, no. My parents said they have been talking about it forever. But it hasn’t sunk in yet. I know we all have jobs to do, but I can’t even imagine what mine is."

  I laughed. "I know. I had hoped I would be a memory maker or something that gets to keep their memories, but now I don’t. I think I’d rather not know."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I like not knowing. I can't imagine the burden of it all. Remembering every detail. Every mistake." Her brown eyes had flecks of black in them, making them dark and mysterious. I liked them. They suited the olive complexion of her skin and the soft-brown hair that looked like honey had been drizzled throughout.

  I shrugged. “Ever since my brother left for the city, I decided I wouldn’t leave my parents too.”

  She nudged me. “Or me. We have to stay out here together, get married, and have babies together.”

  I shuddered. “You’re on your own with that. I can’t imagine having a baby and not remembering it for the first four months and waking every day to try to remember all the things you do.”

  She laughed. “Silly, it’s all there for you. You’re allowed a recorder. You put in no
tes for the first few months. Same as for marriage.”

  I shook my head. “No thanks. I’ll visit your kids.”

  The rumble of the tram coming made my stomach twinge harder. I wondered what job I would be offered, after finding the note.

  I climbed aboard and sat on the seat, fidgeting with my fingers. My mom hated it when I fidgeted. It was one of the only things I knew I did consistently. It was something she called a bad habit and it annoyed her.

  The tram started as the other kids our age jumped on. Our entire class was going for designation. The other school children would have caught the earlier tram.

  "I have a weird feeling," Amber leaned in and whispered to me.

  I nodded at her. "Me too."

  The tram made its first stop. I could see the steam of the tram compared to the crisp morning air.

  I felt an ache in my stomach again and looked down at my feet.

  The smell of the orchard filled my nose. It made butterflies in my belly.

  I noticed the dark leather shoe across from me. I glanced up, seeing a face that made me sit up straight. The person across from me pulled at something inside of me.

  He grinned at me like I knew him or he knew me. He winked and looked away. He wanted our greeting kept secret maybe. His green eyes hit me in the gut. I almost buckled from it. Instantly, I had a bad feeling, making my already aching stomach hurt more.

  Staring at his lips I realized he was in my dream. I had dreamt of him. I was losing my mind. I didn’t say anything. I forced my eyes to the floor of the tram.

  My head spun, and I would swear I saw something in the back of my mind that couldn’t be so. It had to be my brain making things up. It had to be a lie. But then there was the note. Did he know about the note? My brain shut it all down with a firm NO. I was convincing myself of things I didn’t believe and I didn’t know why. It was imaginations at their worst. There was no imagining unless you were a memory maker, and even then it was controlled. Imagination made the world a bad place. Control, uniformity, and predictability were the ways in which we kept ourselves safe from what was outside.