The Power of Forgetting

by A M Russell

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just like being drunk. It’s just bypassing the inhibiting parts of the brain. You have to give yourself a good hard slap if all else fails!’ and he grinned at me.

  ‘Do I really look like that?’

  ‘Yes. Except now you look a little scruffier.’

  ‘So why didn’t you feel… err, freaky?’

  ‘I am part of two… two sides; well, of many sides. Your sister Karis would understand.’

  ‘My sister?’

  ‘I wish to make it possible for you to see inside your mind and what will be. But even though this is tempting I cannot. There are things that cannot be known yet. And you… as in you of the future made sure that it wasn’t resting in this mind so I would not be tempted to tell you right now.’

  ‘The lesson of self-knowledge?’ I asked.

  ‘Indeed. You will be able to create this side of yourself as a separate person, with a full history.’

  ‘But what must happen when I want to not be two… again?’

  ‘I return to you; and am reabsorbed. I am not a separate person. Not another. But the same…’

  I put the cup down to one side then, and felt strung by a welling up of loneliness. He had said nothing of anyone else. And all the people in the garden were strangers.

  ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘One and the same. And now it is time to go. You just needed to know that you will be back. And it will not always be confusion and lack of information. There is some clarity to be had for you later.’

  ‘So where am I? I mean the real me?’

  ‘Nearby…. And in answer to your next question… no, it is not a shared consciousness. It is rather like a catch up when one touches hands. A bit like flipping pancakes while discussing art theory. Both require concentration, but different kinds of concentration.’

  ‘Knitting and philosophy.’ I said.

  ‘Karis.’ He said, but seemed sad.

  ‘I won’t ask. But tell me; the purpose of all this deception is what?’

  ‘Deception?’ he said softly, ‘it’s not a deception. Not in the sense you mean it anyway.’

  ‘What then?’

  Instead of replying he stood and simply twisted his wrist round a little. Instantly it was night time and the only light in the room was the fire light.

  ‘Shit!’ I said and jumped up. He moved towards me; ‘it’s okay.’ He said, ‘look.’

  In the blink of an eye we were back to the softly sunlit room again.

  ‘So I must not touch you?’ I asked.

  ‘That would be unwise.’

  ‘I don’t want to create a paradox.’

  ‘No… that’s not it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This whole thing about paradoxes…. There are different schools of thought on this; but personally I think that it is overrated. The fabric of time is a lot more resilient than most people give it credit for. Nature fills in the gaps left by any events that don’t quite match. It would take someone of particular skill to spot that minor bad seam.’

  ‘Another traveller?’

  ‘More precisely, another traveller of the same level of skill. It is easy to misinterpret what is seen.’

  ‘Oh….’ I felt this was getting off the point. I wanted to know what would happen if I did touch him. Skin to skin; that is why the refusal to shake hands is seen as one of the marks of a traveller. Not conclusive…. but taken with other evidence would make a diagnosis much more certain. I did know some things; so to touch his hand would be considered the most reckless thing right now. You betcha!

  I stepped forward and linked his hand firmly between both of mine, lacing the fingers together so that withdrawal would be very difficult.

  He was startled, but did not struggle. In fact, he was very still indeed. His head started to droop forward to his chest, and the weight of his arm bore down on mine as he relaxed his arm.

  ‘Jared!’ I said loudly.

  His head snapped up, and he blinked slowly; ‘You are not like him, not yet...' He was speaking slowly, as if he was drunk and trying not to show it.

  ‘How? I said, bending down as he started to sag. I looked for a chair. He stumbled backwards as I pulled him to the nearest one.

  ‘Sit down Jared.’ I said, and pushed a little to emphasize my instruction. He sat down, but then looked up at me. Why did I want to drag the truth from this man? I was being cruel, and yet he did not complain. I could feel that flow of transference, like the tingle of charge in the presence of lightning. I wanted to comfort him then, as even though his expression did not change, his eyes glistened and spilled and there was a flush high on the cheekbones. He blinked and stared at me like a child does, uncomprehending, hurting. I could not shift through the images I was receiving, it was like a kaleidoscope turning round and spinning over and over again. He shut his eyes tight, and made a kind of choked sound in his throat. I saw clearly for a moment the marble hall, and I heard the rushing of a loud roar of the wind. I saw in my mind’s eye his face again; this time his hair was shorter, and he was clean shaven. He was kneeling on the floor, and he wore only something wrapped around his waist… it was a bit like when you get out of the shower and wrap a towel round yourself, but this was cotton, and it was a warm earth red colour. He was waiting patiently. And then it was as if I saw through his eyes. And I felt…. An extreme lightness…as if the world was new. And the light around grew; there was someone else stood there…. But it was me again… this old me… yet somehow different. For now, I saw through his eyes; I looked up to myself. There, carrying a knife in one hand, dressed all in that deep indigo. And he (Me?) had a pile of clothes on the floor by his side, ready to give to the other whose eyes I was seeing though. The one in the long coat came and knelt by this man, and gripping him firmly on the shoulders whispered something in his ear. The sound was like a phrase tripped over in Welsh, difficult to pronounce and hard to understand. And it was within that that the weight of self-knowledge rested, pieces of it poured and entered this one’s mind. He felt burdened. Yet the weight was lighter than the lightest memory. And still it poured, and he was crying out. But the other who was me placed his hands one on either side of this one’s head and spoke softly this time. Reassuringly he slowed the infilling of the self to this new one. He held the man when it was done and wiped his face with a cloth. The outward self thus created suffered when it was made, and the pain was because it seemed there was a mind that was still in its sweet innocence and I had poured such things into it as you would be ashamed to tell if the person before you was a little child…. Yet he was; a new born, and a soon created man. And I had made him….

  There I was, holding this precious image, the replay of the moments of inception complete. He was weeping like a child does, softly and unselfconsciously, eyes closed. I felt terrible. A replay; and a violation of the moment of birth…. as it were. I tried to release him, as I was sorry, but he clung to me.

  The still room was visible around me again. And I was with my other…. a self that I had in some future time created. And what to do? Should I regret my window into this mind? Had I, in some sense as yet unimagined changed my own future? No. because I did not know how it was possible…. How was it?

  ‘I’m sorry….’ I said, ‘I am so sorry….’ And I knelt on the floor before him. And I saw the soul of my eight-year-old self, bewildered and shocked and I understood how it is from the outside. And what the difference is, and how I must remember some compassion for another in every way, because within the heart of another is fear and loneliness and a terrible longing for meaning that can only be answered by the creator.

  ‘I’m…. sorry. Please…. please Jay…’ I said grappling with this new consciousness of pity.

  He calmed then, and looked at me for the first time. And with this there was real common ground.

  ‘You have me.’ He said.

  ‘That is my future self, surely?’

  ‘In all times and in all places,’ he said, ‘it has to be. And the l
ast part is found.’

  ‘The last part of what?’ I asked him as he dropped his head and rubbed his face with both hands. I waited for a moment patiently, realising that the intellect and the thoughts and the adult form were the same, yet within was invested something that was pure, untouched by the dark. If my future was to make this man…. Was I to be a better Man too?’

  ‘It is well,’ he said as if divining my thoughts, ‘it was necessary, and we understand each other better now.’

  ‘But where is he?’ I asked.

  ‘Your future self?’ he was calm again.

  ‘Where is he? Is it here?’

  ‘No, not in this place. Another place, but not far.’

  ‘Another place in time?’

  ‘Yes. A little distance. And no, I am not able to take you. He told me not. He said that this was the thing that must not happen. Because we will not be able to prevent a paradox event in those circumstances… he said that you would want to change things and that you would not be able to. And he said that you should be mindful of it….’ He stared at me again, and gripped my arms rather firmly just above my wrists; a tight pinch like the clinging of a child. His hair had grown that much from the vision. So…. He must be at least six months old…. Knowing the speed my hair does grow.

  ‘It has been less than a year.’ He said.

  At this I got off the floor and sat next to him, ‘oh shit!’ I felt old and really crumpled. A year… added on to whatever personal time had gone before that. And what was it? There was no way to know…. aging processes in the children of angels do no occur in some cases. I suppose I was always conscious of that but hadn’t thought of it until now. And the elemental side by nature is always as it is…. only compelled by the force of the humanity which prevails upon it to consent to any decrease in vitality.

  ‘You must leave soon.’ He said, ‘And you will not see me like this until the time we meet.’

  ‘I made you…’ I said dully.

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was very quiet, thoughtful, and still then.

  ‘Forgive me.’ I said to him.

  ‘There is nothing to forgive. When I see him tonight…. He will take these moments into himself and be… these moments. We are talking to ourselves Jared. And thus you see that we are many things. And this is why you were as you are from the beginning. Just as it should be. There is nothing wrong with that at all.’

  ‘There isn’t?’ I asked my voice lighter.

  ‘Not at all.’ He was smiling again now. And I knew that expression. It was the best thoughts, the best moments, that half smile and it reassured me.

  ‘You must leave now,’ he said quickly and quietly.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘She’s coming.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Janey.’

  ‘She’s here?’

  ‘Yes.’ He stood, offering me his hand, ‘she is one I must perhaps not see.’ He pulled me to his feet, but sounded uncertain.

  And then our private audience was at last broken in on. The door opened wide and in rushed Mr Charles, hotly pursued by Janey, in rampantly cross mode.

  ‘Now you just come here! You rat! You knew he was here and didn’t tell me!!’

  ‘Sir!’ Mr Charles addressed Jared who now stood just as before a few feet from me.

  ‘Yes, Charles what is it?’

  ‘Oh…My…. God!!!’ Janey came to a sudden stop, taking in the scene in one startled glance.

  Mr Charles was speaking, rather too fast, and trying to keep the semblance of order, and explaining to Jared what had happened. I saw Jared smile, ‘It is fine.’

  ‘Oh…. Oh…but sir?’ Mr Charles was flustered.

  ‘No, it’s not going to happen.’ And this he led him to the door and ejected him, closing it firmly behind him. I couldn’t help feeling a little bit smug that Mr Charles had been made to bow to me in the end. But I needed to pay attention. Janey’s eyes all the while had swivelled round to Jared… my other self, as if hypnotised. She seemed to be trying to think of something to say, perhaps something cutting, angry and critical. Having seen her verbally attack Hanson on occasion I didn’t doubt that however weird it might be, she was capable of being as loud and aggressive as possible. But Janey seemed choked by all the things she could say, a plethora of emotions flitted across her face… she was speechless. I reckoned that it was a first.

  ‘Jay?’ she was looking at me, ‘what the hell is going on here?’

  ‘I think that we should go.’ I said.

  ‘No way.’ She took a step towards him. He seemed unnerved by this development and stepped back nearer the fireplace until his back was against the mantel piece and he couldn’t go any further.

  ‘You….’ She was quieter, ‘I know you.’ And she held out her hand to touch him. He flinched away from her touch trying to avert his eyes. But she went closer and caught his chin in both hands.

  ‘It’s alright… don’t be scared.’ She said. I knew that voice… divided by time only. She spoke to me in the past like that. But it had not been recent. It was an old way, from when we were children. He looked at her.

  ‘Ah….’ She said to herself, ‘he is so much like the boy…. perhaps you are alright after all?’

  ‘What?’ I said, and she turned and looked at me, and she was crying.

  ‘Janey! What is it?’ I had not seen her cry…. Not ever that I could remember.

  ‘It’s alright…. It’s alright. Stay where you are.’ She raised a hand as if to say “stop”. He meanwhile was looking bewildered. I was absolutely certain that this bit of Janey; was a part of the mind that he had been kept from knowing. I thought about saying something else to reassure him. But Janey was quicker than me. She dragged him to a chair, and pushed him down. He didn’t struggle or resist, just like with me. And yet he had been so forceful in ejecting Mr Charles from the room a moment a go.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What?’ I said

  ‘What did you do?’ she repeated in a bossy tone.

  ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘Liar. This is paradox central you twit! Don’t you get it?’

  ‘But he’s not…’

  ‘…your future self? Yes, I know,’ she said, ‘rather a part of the self who can safely meet this one, without giving too much away.’

  ‘You know that?’ I asked

  ‘Brother dear! What do you think I am? I haven’t been around these idiots all this time without finding out a thing or two. And one is how to read someone in about two seconds.’

  ‘Just now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But that’s difficult.’ I said.

  ‘Yes I know.’ Janey looked smug, but she glanced at him and cried some more, ‘Drat!’ she said, as if ashamed to be betrayed by her own feelings, and angrily rubbed the wetness away.

  He meanwhile had been watching her every move with an attention that would have recorded every micro signal; ‘you must go now Janey.’ He said.

  ‘What!’ she looked at him directly, ‘You sound like him too… too much… too much,’ she glanced at me, ‘please help me. I cannot be in two places at once. This is beyond all. And I’m falling my dear…’ she turned back to him and said: ‘dearest…you don’t know it; but I will tell you. You are the most precious thing to me… tell him, that… tell him, I will find him if I can. I’m looking for him. I will cross the barrier to find him.’

  ‘He will know.’ said my other self, and ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of overloaded stress. Janey that close…. He stood again, and she looked up at him.

  ‘Time to leave!’ I said. I could hear some sounds of people approaching on the other side of the door.

  ‘A second.’ she said, and put her arms round his neck and pulled him down towards her. I turned to the door. Someone banged on the other side. But the door was heavy, and it seemed locked. Someone was jiggling the handle. I heard muffled voices. The door was very heavy indeed. I turned back to them. She kissed him, pulling him tow
ards her in a startled suddenly disarming manner. I felt shot through with a black arrow of jealousy that five minutes later would seem quite crazy. I am loopy for not seeing it. She was taking advantage of the situation as she always could. My sweet girl; so persuasive, so used to getting her own way. And in this she had me. I was rabidly jealous, and I wanted to be the one to kiss her, and press her into my chest, that pretty elfin creature that was like a tiny nuclear reaction. He stood there swaying, stunned. Janey was smiling.

  ‘Thank you?’ He said, and looked at me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘it’s always going to be like that…. unexpected.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said, and then to Janey, ‘I will tell him what you said. And he will see it for himself too.’

  Someone banged on the door again. Clearly they were not in a mind to let this interview continue.

  ‘Take her hand,’ he said to me, and to Janey, ‘Let go of me. I am not yet ready for this. I am just a little of him, not quite enough to be with you.’

  ‘Remember it all.’ She said.

  ‘I will.’ He answered, and looked at me. His expression softer more peaceful. His mouth curved with that hint of joy. I remember feeling like that once; but it had been gone from me for a long time now. He passed me Janey’s hand and pressed it into mine as I went forward.

  There was a fraction of a moment where we were all touching. Just one millisecond. And it was enough to see a whole world in blueprint. Perhaps he didn’t know what he had done. Then again, perhaps he did. Rule breaker. That was always me. Taking a thing and twisting it so far it broke then twisting it some more, to reshape the thing into to something else.

  ‘Don’t hold your breath.’ He said, ‘Jared!’ and my eyes snapped to his, which pulsed with a light for a split second in a sharp wave.

  Suddenly there was silence.

  Janey fell into me heavily and we both tumbled onto the floor. From the diffuse light of an old window we found ourselves in the same place…. And yet it was a different time… it had to be. This place was long deserted. Janey was crying and she wouldn’t let go. The dusty floor, and long forgotten things and a weeping girl. This was fitting. That it should be this way. The bitter years had eaten away at my sweet girl, and she had not until now let it show. I still had my arm round her as I looked all about. Something things I noticed were the same, but very few, the mantelpiece and the empty grate. The door hung sideways on its hinges as if blown inwards by some greater force. And the whole place was dusty and endured the creep of nature into its once well-kept rooms.