My father disappeared years before my coming of age without leaving a trace to his whereabouts. At that time, my regent gave me the keys to the entirety of my father’s estate. In the basement of his laboratory, I spent my formidable years remaining quiet and learning to unlock the secrets of his research. I encountered new words and ideas I dare not share with others, so as to provide clues to my intentions. Exhausting his notes, even by a cursory glance, would take years. A detailed examination may cost the entirety of my life. Daunting as that may seem, I stood affirmed in my resolve to succeed.

And succeed I did.

In a mere eight years, I not only translated, but comprehended 90% of my father’s manuscripts. He called his invention, the Forget Me Not. Its purpose was singular. The wearer could relive any pleasurable experience from his past as if experiencing it for the very first time. The Forget Me Not (FMN) functions as follows:

The device maps the user’s brain (while the user thinks about the memory) to discover the exact location of the experience.

The device stores the memory exactly as the user remembers it. The storage device digitizes all five senses and the user’s perception. The memory capacity is greater than normal computers by a million fold.

Upon activation, the FMN temporarily blocks the synaptic pathways that permit the user to forget the experience.

Then the FMN downloads the memory, experience, and perception back to the user.

The machine may record the entire experience for posterity and repeat it as often as necessary.

With my increased time in the lab, I began to lose track of the day-to-day affairs of the estate. Offering the position to the only person I knew would accept, I found my regent and made the proposition. As if he never forfeited his previous occupation, my regent agreed to my terms. In doing so, I continued my research and my regent found his new employer mostly absent. Thus, both parties returned to what they did best.

Two more years of work and I began my first trial run. Using no other than myself, I set the FMN to scan and copy only. I thought of eating my first ice cream cone. The FMN took only three minutes to scan and three milliseconds to copy. If I remained attached to the FMN, I might be experiencing that memory exactly as I did as a child. I decided to postpone that decision until the end of the week.

Unusual to my normal routine, I began a brief audit of the household books. My regent did his due diligence and kept them accurate and timely. I did not find any discrepancies (the regent saved receipts), but I did find the food budget larger by half than what I would budget. I made a mental note to speak to him of this at a later date.

By the onset of the upcoming auspicious week, I made arrangements not to be disturbed for the duration of the day. I was both curious and determined to activate the FMN for a full scale test. The previous night, I chose my last memory of my father. That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill.

With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

D-Day came and I went to the lab to greet destiny. I sat in the chair and attached the FMN. I set the control to automatic before I sat back and let the entire program run its course. Within seconds, I saw the Sun from that day. I felt my father’s hand. His stride was larger than mine. To compensate, I had to trot. I felt my pulse increase to accommodate. I even felt a bead or two or sweat run down my forehead. I kept the lab at 62 degrees, but my memory swore it was 92 degrees. As if on cue, I saw growing shadows of other park patrons as they moved toward home. I even smelled the lingering odor of my father’s aftershave. The Sun set on time. The sky turned from orange to red to dark. My father squeezed my hand when it was time to go. The FMN worked beyond my wildest expectations. If I could do it all over again, I would.

That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill. With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

D-Day came and I went to the lab to greet destiny. I sat in the chair and attached the FMN. I set the control to automatic before I sat back and let the entire program run its course. Within seconds, I saw the Sun from that day. I felt my father’s hand. His stride was larger than mine. To compensate, I had to trot. I felt my pulse increase to accommodate. I even felt a bead or two or sweat run down my forehead. I kept the lab at 62 degrees, but my memory swore it was 92 degrees. As if on cue, I saw growing shadows of other park patrons as they moved toward home. I even smelled the lingering odor of my father’s aftershave. The Sun set on time. The sky turned from orange to red to dark. My father squeezed my hand when it was time to go. The FMN worked beyond my wildest expectations. If I could do it all over again, I would.

That day, that beautiful sunny day, we walked to the park together to watch the sunset. He held my hand as we climbed a small hill. With no distractions, nor words, we saw the sunset on an amazing day. I felt warm. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt my father’s love for me. No day since has rivaled that day. Most likely, no day hence will.

The regent called the doctor to move my shell of a body adjacent to my father’s in the laboratory alcove repurposed for an occupancy of two. He made a mental note to increase the food budget by another half again as he locked the laboratory, possibly for the last time.

He observes

He sees what others do not

He walks within the shadows

In areas between the light and the dark

Many have an inkling of his presence

But no one call pinpoint his location

He scrutinizes both intent and serendipity

Analyzing the minor inflections within both

His is to act only when necessary

Postulating a favorable outcome for all

Deciding fortuitously for a select few

Deliberating unilaterally against all of the rest

Once again I find myself walking home. This time, I am walking just a bit further than I prefer in my stilettos. I’ve had a few too many to drink. I’m dressed for the clubs, not for the climb. By all accounts, I look easy. I am easy. I want to be easy for a pick-up line, not a smack-down fight.

The street is too quiet for this time of night. I see lights, but I see no one. With each step, my heels (normally silent against the background of city noise) echo against the pavement. I am acutely aware of my breathing. I can even hear my pulse.

My scan for an escape is to no avail. Fences line the front yards on this block. A few cars are nestled near their respected curb. The trash cans are ill maintained. They should be empty. They should be inside. I should be inside. My gut feels empty and I should know better than to be here.

I am ill maintained.

But, I am still moving. Step by step. Next time, I will take a cab. Next time, I will leave with a friend. I keep walking.

It is getting cold. I braced myself for chilly, however, I didn’t account for the cold. I am not dressed for the cold. My legs are aching and I am beginning to get nervous. The next block looks worse than this one. It is fish or cut bait time. I could walk back and I should walk back. Against my own sage advice, I kept walking, alone.

It took another thirty minutes to find sanctuary. The store had an evening shift and an abundance of lights. I picked through my clutch for my compact to check my appearance before entering the parking lot.

I looked good in the mirror’s reflection. In this aspect of existence, the years have been easy. In others, my loneliness, I have paid a steep price.

Shouldof, couldof, wouldof and I might still be married. More forgiving means more anniversaries. If I had accepted his apology, I might not feel so vulnerable.

However, I want the life I have and I do not wish to compromise on this point. I want to meet new people and devour their stories while creating new ones for the both of us. I want it all and I want it now.

I also want it how it was supposed to be.

But, I will never learn about that alternative ending and I am beginning to believe I may (soon) never care. My life is a series of eroded Ctrl-Alt-Delete keys known no longer by touch, only by position. If Shakespeare wrote my life as a play, Acts I/II would perpetually repeat, ad infinitum.

Another check from my compact, before I ask someone to call a cab for me.

The man with the knife behind me did not fare as well in his appearance. I do not believe his looks were high on his agenda tonight.

His first punch to my abdomen releases me from any further analyses of his motives.

I awaken where I fell, left untouched, amongst the ruins of those who did not fare as I have. The bloodstains run slightly parallel, as if the person or persons responsible were methodical displaying their skills.

I do not remain to check for life signs. I am without such internal injuries and am able to continue sojourning forward. I am too scared to venture otherwise.

One roll of the dice

One date with destiny

He who sees, but is not seen

He who saves, but cannot be saved

One more morning for one not deserving of such

One could only wait to see if she ever will