Fallout 4: AR

10. The Memory Den

"Is that even possible?" I asked, stunned. "To watch someone else's memories?" My nose stuffed up, and I dabbed at it absently.

"Why not? I think it's all a matter of how the lounger is programmed." Tossing some caps on the counter, Hancock stepped away, motioning for us to follow him. "We won't find out here. Let's go pay Irma a visit."

"All righh—achoo!" I sneezed violently, grabbing for a napkin, a tissue, anything to clear my nose. "Damn cigarette smoke," I muttered, "makes me sneeze."

"Oh, for the love of..." griped MacCready, stubbing out the cigarette with a resentful flourish. "Fine, I need to cut down anyway." He slouched off the chair. "Let's go, then...Boss."

The Memory Den was an old burlesque theater that had been revamped to house several high-tech lounge pods in a large central room. Most were occupied, glass-paneled lids closed on people who were apparently deep into reliving their memories. Other than a small radio playing music in the background, it was eerily quiet. On a raised platform in the back of the room lounged an elegantly dressed beautiful older woman who greeted us with a low throaty chuckle. "Hancock, you bring a guest!"

"Hey there, Irma. Got a puzzle for you and Amari." Oozing charm, he sidled up to the proprietor's chaise longue, taking the lady's hand and placing a delicate kiss with withered lips. "A paying puzzle, before you go turning us away."

Irma met Hancock's gaze for a long, long moment before replying. "All right. We're not currently accepting new clients, but for you I'm willing to make an exception, just this once." She looked at the small group in front of her. "Who is the client, and what is the puzzle?"

I stepped forward. "It's me, ma'am." I couldn't help the military formality, and a gentle smile warmed her lips at the courtesy. "I don't know how I got here, and maybe, if they can see my memories, we can figure out what happened and how to get me home." I held out the makeshift pouch with the required caps. "Please?"

"Hmmm," she voiced thoughtfully, as the caps disappeared from my hand. "Not my usual request. Dr. Amari?" she called behind her.

"Coming, Irma," a strongly accented voice called from behind the back wall. A moment later, a thin woman with a severe dark haircut and pristine white lab coat appeared. "What do you need?"

"Hello, dear. See what you can do to help this young lady, please." Irma waved one graceful hand in my direction. "She says she wants to show her memories to her friends here, not relive them. Can you do that?"

Dr. Amari stood quietly for a moment, holding her chin in a thoughtful pose. "Difficult. But yes, I think we can do that." She added, quickly, "Not out here. We'll have to use the lab. Come with me, please."

Behind the old burlesque stage, a set of stairs led down into a room lined wall-to-wall with various computer equipment. Large machines whirred quietly to themselves, and two or three scattered screens scrolled endless lines of text. Placed equidistant from each other were two pod loungers like the ones upstairs, but with additional controls and cables sprawling away towards the bank of equipment behind them. A few random metal tables and two-seat couches filled the rest of the wall space. Dr. Amari was already tapping away at one of the computers by the time we made it down the stairs.

"All right. Will the client please seat herself in the open lounger. The rest of you can observe on this screen, but don't touch anything." At her words, the pod on the left hissed open, revealing a comfortable looking reclining seat inside. I clambered inside, and the pod hissed closed again, cutting off any sound from without. A screen lowered in front of my face, an old test graphic emblazoned with the words "Please Stand By."

"All right," Dr. Amari's no-nonsense voice sounded tinny in the pod's speakers near my ears. "I am going to want you to close your eyes, you won't need the screen, and think of your most recent memory of home." The instructions sounded simple enough, but my stomach was beginning to flutter. "Ah, you have a Pip-Boy? Excellent. Take the interface attachment and plug it into the flashing port, if you would be so kind. Thank you."