Forget It (ONC 2024)

Chapter 6 - Beyond our control

How dangerous were these things in the wrong hands? There were sentences against those who misused the chips, and I assumed their distribution was regulated, but on the black market, this could lead to dangerous people hurting thousands. My insides trembled at the thought, yet my lips refused to show a hint of my unease. There were far too many vulnerable people ready to sign a contract to pull themselves or their families out of poverty, and they could lose control of their bodies for years or forever. In the wrong hands, it could lead to their death given the chip prevented them from fighting back.

Arch looked at me then at Ravi and his hand finally dropped from my side, although the sweat from his palm lingered like the odour of a mushroom plant. As I let out a breath of relief, Arch's shoulders curled in and he tensed.

"Please welcome Mr. Archibald Kenton, developer of Garden Forests at age eleven, the nutrient enriching Food-Plicator at age fifteen, and an instrumental developer in the list of Inno-Tech products below. Ms. Selene Mintz has also been vital to many of the same products and has a few minor design licenses to her name. Today, they'll show the preliminary stages of Mem-Armour."

Arch stepped forward and rubbed his palms together.

"Esteemed investors, a month ago, I asked you to record a memory using our prototype. Were there many of you who had a chance to do so?" Arch asked.

Several mental thumbs-ups appeared in the right corner of my vision. That was a tremendous show of trust to allow a prototype near your mind. It could malfunction and hadn't undergone the trial period needed to be approved for the market. And had Arch said last month? How long had he been betraying me? Proposals were only submitted six weeks ago, and somehow they already had a prototype.

"I asked you to recall the chosen memory at least once every week, a minimum total of five recalls before this meeting, with no access to the original. If you've done this, I'll ask you to kindly attach your Mem-Armour prototype and record your current recollection of that memory."

Seven of the twelve investors did what Arch had asked. Their progress was available in our mind-link, and once all seven had finished their upload, Ravi gave us the virtual thumbs up to continue.

"Now, Mem-Armour will give you the option to view both the original memory as recorded and your mind's current version of it. Take a moment to view both and see what differences you observe."

The investors stared into space and must have been given privacy blockers, as we had no sign of their activity. Sadly, we lived in a world where not even our minds were our own without external tech.

It was hard to believe there used to be a time when you could show up in any space and no one would be the wiser of your thoughts unless you opened your mouth. You could live your entire life with no one blaring ideas and propaganda directly into your mind. Now businesses, schools, and work all requested mind links to share their products and messages. Some, like the commercial ones, were normal to refuse, but others, like work and school, were frowned upon. It didn't mean they had access to everything, but there were enough instances of forgetting to have a private thought on a public channel that left you feeling invaded. Would Inno-Tech's version of my invention make that worse?

I winced at the thought. Remember-All sought to preserve memories for the user, not for the world. Those memories would exist in your mind only, and perhaps on an external server in case of an emergency. Remember-All would have restored a mind to its natural state before disease, where it created and accessed memories—both explicit ones that told the story of your life and implicit ones involved in your muscle memory and how to perform tasks—with ease despite conditions like Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, dementia, and Multiple Sclerosis. I'd never intended to interfere with what nature had originally conceived and create these modified 'higher-performance' memories for those who had no problem recording them.