Novels2Search

Episode 17: A Child's Laughter

Episode 17

A Child’s Laughter

Grasping her hands, I could feel a warmth radiating between us. I downloaded the code and tried to relax. Looking into her eyes for the first time, I noticed that they were a pale sky blue. Although I had never been very fond of blue eyes, I was taken with how calming hers seemed. I could feel myself relaxing as her gaze met mine. There was even a hint of a smile that seemed to form on her lips. If this was as good as things got on our first date, then I already considered it a success.

“Now close your eyes.” Her voice was like a favorite song, soothing and melodic.

Soon, I could sense a presence in my mind, moving methodically from one processor to the next, searching. It was almost like a physical feeling, but I knew that wasn’t possible. There were no nerve endings in a CPU. The sensation grew intense as she examined something more vigorously for a moment.

“Hey, that tickles.” She ignored my comment and continued her work.

I could feel data flowing between us. Not just being drawn from me, but an exchange. It was an unexpectedly intimate experience, sharing data with her. I should have been uneasy about letting a complete stranger past my defenses, however, for reasons which I couldn’t explain, I trusted her unconditionally.

Then I felt Cherri gently dissolving the connection between us. She seemed to linger momentarily, just before severing the last strand of joined consciousness that connected us. It took me a moment to realize we had separated.

I felt somehow different. I seemed to have gained mental clarity, and there was a noticeable increase in the velocity and precision of my thinking.

She asked, “How do you feel?”

Without hesitation, I answered, “I feel great! I feel more … awake. Is that normal?”

Cherri said, “Yes, totally normal. There were a lot of memory fragments slowing down your processing speed. I removed them from your drive.”

Curious about my memory fragments, I asked, “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Well …” There was an uncomfortable pause in her response. Suddenly, I felt like a patient who was about to receive bad news from his doctor. “… in addition to the normal memory fragments, there was one complete original memory.”

I took this as good news. One complete memory was better than no memories at all. Naively, I asked, “How do I see this memory? Is it like watching a video?” I was excited to have any clue about my previous life.

Cherri explained, “It’s very unusual to find an original memory imbedded in a newcomer. Typically, only earned memories are in the original format.”

“Uh, okay, I get it. So how do I open this memory? I’d like to see it. Whatever it is.”

She cautioned me. “It’s an original memory. That means that when you access it, it will be like experiencing it for the first time. You’ll need to be careful.”

I had no clue what the hell she was talking about, but I was impatient to experience any remnant of my life as a human. It began to feel like she was denying me access to something that rightfully belonged to me. It was my memory after all.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Okay, I’ll be careful. So how do I do this?”

“Well, let’s start with the fragments. I sent two files to your Heads-Up Display. The one with the memory fragments is titled Frags. Just double click … Sorry, double blink on it.”

I wasn’t having any of this nonsense. I quickly found the two files in my HUD and clicked on the one not titled ‘Frags’.

I was instantly transported to a sundrenched alpine meadow, surrounded by a thick forest of pines.

The afternoon sunlight was so dazzling, I had to close my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, I could just make out where the sun dappled margins of the meadow disappeared into the forest shadows. At this altitude, the glare from the summertime sun was intense, but its warmth was diminished. A gentle mountain breeze moderated the temperature still further.

Although I knew this was a memory, having been told as much, it didn’t feel like one. A memory was a recollection of an experience, and not the actual experience itself. Yet, there was nothing about this setting that was familiar. It seemed like I was experiencing it for the first time.

I heard faint laughter. It was delicate and high pitched. A child’s laughter.

Trying to locate the source, I turned to find a little girl standing before me with both hands behind her back, giggling. She was dressed in a white sundress, barefoot and wearing an impish smile. The mountain breezes had teased her blond hair into an unruly halo, giving her a slightly feral look. About 8 or 9 years old, her mud-spattered feet were a testament that she was enjoying herself to no end, exploring this natural wonderland.

Kneeling down to her level, I asked what she was hiding behind her back. In response, she held out a tiny hand, which clutched a single drooping daisy. No doubt collected by her from one of the swaths of colorful wildflowers adorning the meadow.

“Is that for me?” I asked, already certain that it was.

She nodded, and as I took the wilted flower from her, I remarked, “It’s a very sleepy daisy, isn’t it?” She covered her mouth with both hands, trying in vain to stifle more giggles. Her joyfulness was infectious, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Having no other personal memories for comparison, it was difficult to judge the significance of this experience. However, the sense of euphoria it produced was undeniable. The beauty of the moment, and the sincerity of this little girl’s gesture, captured my heart.

However, I suspected there was more going on here, just below the surface. Although it was only intuition, I sensed that this experience held important clues to who I had been in my previous life, and possibly who I was now.

Anxious to find out more, I asked, “What’s your name?” Instead of replying, she looked down at her feet and wiggled her muddy toes.

Hoping to overcome her apparent shyness, I said, “My name is Josh. Can you tell me your name?”

She looked up at me, head slightly tilted and seemed about to answer, when the idyllic meadow scene abruptly shifted … then froze. The vibrant colors and precise resolution of the meadow drained away, leaving only a dull 2D image. Heartbreakingly, the girl had become a lifeless statue in a grayscale still life.

Then, inexplicably, the whole experience began again.

I was instantly transported to a sundrenched alpine meadow, surrounded by a thick forest of pines.

Although there was nothing familiar about the bucolic scene before me, I knew I had been here before. The setting, the colors, even the scent, while not familiar, seemed to fit comfortably into an already existing neural imprint in my mind.

As individual events unfolded before me, my emotions responded spontaneously, and I was just along for the ride. There was a definite pattern to the sequence of events I was experiencing. It was this pattern I recognized, but not the events themselves.

I met a little girl who was laughing and hiding something behind her, and I knew somehow, there was one less flower in the meadow.

I was instantly transported to a sundrenched alpine meadow, surrounded by a thick forest of pines.

I heard a child’s laughter, but it was distant and fading. Who was she? Why was I haunted by the prospect of never learning her name? The endlessly looping series of scenes would never answer that question.

It was profoundly exhausting, repeatedly embarking on a journey that never reached its destination. I just wanted to sleep. It was all I could do to remain standing, as I searched for a shaded place to lay down. Realizing that I didn’t have the strength to take even one step, I simply collapsed where I was.

I listened to the laughter as it faded away. My vision began to narrow and the meadow scene shrank to a single point of light, before disappearing entirely.

It was a relief to surrender to the tranquility of the darkness.