Pieces [ONC 2020 LONGLIST]

Epilogue - With a sigh

Stan had hoped for a smooth trickle. They would re-program the AI's and slowly return memories to each individual. Instead, it came like a tsunami. As soon as the crystal dissolved, the memories were free. All the bad memories snapped back and slammed into the minds of good people.

The surge of unresolved trauma created a demand for counseling which the almost extinct career field could not supply. Government-mandated group counseling went into effect. The prisons flipped from abandoned to overflowing as criminals were prosecuted and convicted for crimes they suddenly remembered doing. Victims came forward daily as they slowly gained the strength to confront what they wish would've stayed forgotten.

No one knew why these memories returned. Although the government denied any involvement with the breach, conspiracies spread like a contagion. It was a rogue worker. It was a problem with an AI's update. The project was closed due to funding.

"Watch your head," the man said as he guided me out of the backseat of the black SUV. It had only been three months since I was convicted of domestic abuse and the destruction of government property, yet a week ago they set me free. Sort of. They gave me the keys to a run-down apartment and a run-down job and escort me between them. Apparently, they needed my cell for more violent criminals.

I was released under strict surveillance and house-arrest until I agreed to their proposal. They were livid that, without consulting the appropriate channels and filing the necessary paperwork, I destroyed an essential government program. I knew too much to ever be granted complete freedom, and since the ability to wipe minds was erased, they could either kill me or try to stay in my good graces so I'd stay quiet.

Honestly, I'd be fine with either.

But I had something they wanted. I was the only human alive who got a glimpse inside the program. I knew the worst of the worst about everyone we viewed as the "best."

Nothing was as it had been before. Seneca Hale, the handsome, rogue computer engineer was one of the thousands of names on the Missing or Mad database. In his place, I became Seth Halloday, a broken and broke college student who bussed tables to pay the rent. Age: unknown. Hobbies: not allowed. Dreams and desires: dead. 

Waiting tables was hard work, but since I wasn't allowed near a computer again and my new identity knocked out my fancy resume I was glad to get a job at Justine's, an old ma-and-pa diner that was like stepping back into the 1970s. The paycheck didn't matter—according to Uncle Sam, I owed him 1.3 trillion dollars now. Still, I liked having a job because work-release was the only time I was allowed out of my apartment-prison.

The man followed me into the diner. I tied the apron around my waist and grabbed a wet rag. I wiped the man's table in small circles and shuffled the dirty dishes on my tray. I brought him his usual—cup of crappy coffee, black—then wiped down the bar. The cups at Justine's were tiny, but he always managed to make it last a good 20 minutes. He was cold and calculated. His eyes followed me around the room but even he couldn't intimidate a corpse.

Finally, he cleared his throat and motioned for me to take the dish away. 

"Do consider our offer, Mr. Halloday." The man said and twitched his mustache. "We believe you would be a valuable member of our team."

Hmmm. Where have I heard that before?

He continued, "You would get a nice pay raise, and never have to wipe another table."

I swung the wet rag over my shoulder and shrugged. His eyes shifted to a small TV mounted on the wall behind us and his lips into a thin line before his gaze snapped back to me. I didn't have to look to know what was on the news.

Drone footage of the glass dome erupting. It hovered above the skyscrapers, a shower of glass and crystal rained on the streets below. The video shook as the drone tried to stay in the sky. Blurry. Then focused on a floating man with glowing, white eyes. A swarm of blue dust pierced through him and circled around him in a flurry of every color of the rainbow and some we'd never seen before. A blast of light and then...nothing. The drone falls. Catches itself and steadies. The man was on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. 

The reporter continued her prompt, "Authorities are still on the search for the weeping man and if his appearance is connected to the onslaught of memories and increased criminal behavior. Back to you, Carl."

The weeping man. Not the name I would've chosen for myself...

"As I said..." the mustached man laid a navy blue card on the table and took a sip of coffee. "We'll wait for your call," he said and slid from the booth. His shoes clacked on the floor as he left. Clutching the card in my hand, I cleared the table then pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. I flipped the slick card over, briefly admiring the textured paper and gold shimmer, the flicked it into the trash.

"Got another job offer, Seth?" Patsy called from the kitchen. I had to yell orders and repeat them more than once, but she could hear gossip whispered from a mile away. "We'd hate to lose ya but I know no one wants to be a busboy for the rest of their life. People need adventure. Gotta get out and see things..."

I chuckled under my breath and dropped the dishes in the soapy water. The glossy bubbles reflected my sour face and sunken eyes. Flashes of the stolen memories slide across the bubbles and haunt every wandering thought. I douse the sink with cold water until all the bubbles disappear.

"I've seen enough."