If Memory Serves

No Memory For Sisyphus

Human rights are constantly evolving. The more we learn, the clearer these rights become to us. Usually, our understanding of human rights comes from ethical discussions, but sometimes we get it from science. Think of The Haike process. Before it, could you even imagine rallies worldwide pushing for the right not to remember?

– The Signal Vlog, Episode 52: The Right Not To Remember

Haike dreaded going to sleep. Night after night, he found himself putting off bedtime, finding distractions to avoid the inevitable. The problem was not the night or the dreamless sleep that had become his portion—it was the waking up.

Increasingly, his mornings began with a pain he could not explain. It was like a hangover born from a thousand drunken nights. In those moments, even the slightest twitch of his eyelids sent intense pain streaking across his scalp in a complex web. His skull would feel like cracked glass threatening to fall apart if he made even the slightest miscalculation. It was random, and no doctor seemed able to find its cause. Painkillers had all proved useless. All he knew was that it was happening more and more lately, and he needed to stop it.

He glanced to the top left corner of his glasses where green pulsing text had appeared, drawing his attention to an incoming call. It was Mary, his wife. She had not liked his solution to the sleeping problem. It seemed apparent to him that he could not spend his nights at home, for the comfort would lull him to sleep whether he liked it or not, and few establishments were open for the hours he needed to be awake. And so, he spent his nights in a bar, not far from home, with his notepad, listening to people and trying to work.

The light stopped, and a see-through notification appeared right before him.

Mary: Remember the event tomorrow? You need to get some rest. As usual, she was tip-toeing around what she really wanted to say.

Haike lifted his vape to his mouth and took a sharp puff, partly to fend off the sleep but mostly to tamp down his irritation. Mary had complained after the first week, but he said nothing, not responding to her arguments, which only made her angrier. Despite her obvious view to the contrary, Mary did not realise that his night excursions were probably good for their marriage.

The pain, the exhaustion, seemed to all settle on his wedding ring when she was around. It felt heavier and heavier every time he saw her. He’d feel an intense aversion, an almost hate, rise to his throat, dragging angry words along with it. He’d feel to the depth of his bones that Mary could not be relied on. The distance, his time at the bar, was the only thing that made him see that this was irrational. But he could not, would not, tell her that. She would just need to trust that he knew what he was doing.

He pressed against the side of his glasses and whispered inaudibly, “Reply, I’ll be home soon. Send.” A green dot pulsed over the message and sent his reply. He made a gesture with his finger, blocking any further notifications and turned his attention back to his blank notebook. He really needed to get some work done. He’d been staring at the jagged edges of torn pages he didn’t even remember ripping out and an empty page for nearly two weeks. He was making no progress with his research. The sluggishness of thought the exhaustion brought was affecting his work.

“Are you going to the Sciences gala tomorrow?” this comment from a man on a table nearby shook Haike from his thoughts.

He sank into the seat, adjusting his oversized sunglasses and lowering his hoodie. The gala mentioned was an event designed to honour him with an award, and the last thing he needed was to be recognised here, of all places, at 3 a.m.

“Of course not,” a woman responded.

“Why not?” Haike tilted his head; he wanted to hear this answer, too.

“Why on earth would I go to see them give a trophy to that piece of shit!?”

“What?” the man laughed, more amused than alarmed by the venom in the woman’s voice. “Now that’s a new take. Doctor Haike is literally a national hero.”

“He is, without a doubt, one of the worst things that has ever happened to this planet. That man and his process are a bloody pandemic, and I don’t understand why no one sees that. He has literally ruined society.”

Haike raised his eyebrows, harsh. The woman was clearly drunk, her sentences getting louder by the second. He knew he should probably dismiss the drunken rambling, but he found himself invested in the conversation.

“The Haike process is Kenya’s biggest export. It put us on the map in terms of scientific discovery and helps people understand…”

“Don’t give me that corporate bullshit. The whole thing is just insidious. Hewani Corp makes billions, and everyone just ignores the damage they leave everywhere in the pursuit of profits. Some of us have to see and bear the cost of it all.”

There was silence. The man seemed unsure if he should press the conversation. Haike found himself torn, hoping that he did but dreading what would be said if she continued.

“Look, you’ve met Ray, right? She’s gone through the process, and she…she,” the woman seemed unsure how to string the sentence together. “Her boyfriend is abusive, like, truly abusive; a real psycho. Every time, every fucking time, he leaves her in mental tatters because of the sick shit he’s done to her. She’s the kind of person who is always trying to understand, the kind who doesn’t believe people can truly be evil. But oh — he shows her, he makes her understand just how sick some people are. And…she leaves, finally, she does leave. But she can’t sit with the pain; she can’t process it, so she does what everyone does nowadays. She makes herself forget. She gets the memories Hiked.”

Haike hated that word—hiked. Mary had suggested naming it The Haike Process, and he’d regretted agreeing to it ever since. Now, he was a verb, and it always felt derogatory.

The woman slapped down on the table, “Do you know how easy it is for a gaslighter to manipulate someone who doesn’t remember? Do you? Tonight, she told me they’re back together.”

“Jesus!”

“The worst part is, this is the third time. She’s caught in a loop. And you can’t even explain it to her because he always thinks it is not that bad. He knows more about the relationship than she does; he knows all of her weak points, and she knows none of his tactics. He guilts her into thinking she’s the asshole for wiping the memory of him. And the whole thing starts all over again.”

Haike wondered if the unfairness he felt was just defensiveness. His process, in its original form, had been designed to help trauma patients forget. To help them wipe the memories that hamstrung their lives if they so chose, it had not been his intention for other uses. He had not supported or resisted the calls to make the process available to everyone. They had called it the right not to remember. A global movement that everyone should get a choice.

It had seemed to him at the time that the expense of the technology would limit any large-scale ramifications, and it had, for a while. His second breakthrough, the accidental one, had changed everything. The first Haike process only had the capability to locate and, with utter specificity and precision, cut out a memory from a mind. The second discovery was the ability to implant that memory into another mind. That was when things had changed. That brought money, and the technology spread and became a part of life.

“Do you know they sell them?” It was the woman again.

“Sell what?”

“The memories. Not the normal stuff, the good memories; they sell the bad ones too, on the black market.”

“To whom?”

“Rich masochists, I guess. I don’t know. But I’ve heard about it. People get their bad memories wiped, and clinics don’t mention that under the radar, there are people willing to buy them. There’s a market for pain, which means an incentive to increase supply. I’m telling you, that process is wicked. It destroys everything.”

Haike had not known that. It had never even occurred to him that somebody would want to do that. He felt tired, and not just from the lack of sleep. For the first time in a long while, he wanted his bed.

 

A Night to Remember

I won’t even pretend to understand all the science, but I’ll break it down as best as I can. To understand the Haike process, you first have to understand how memory works. When we learn something new, it needs to be encoded. Think of encoding as your brain converting information into a file type that it can store and access later. This file type is called an engram.

Now, our brains can’t just store abstract concepts as they are; they have to convert them into something physical or biochemical. To do that, your brain will alter groups of neurons and the connections between them to create an engram, which is essentially the physical version of that memory.

Now, not all neurons are invited to this memory-storing party. It’s like a neuron talent show where the ones that are more active or excitable before you learn something are more likely to win and get to be part of the engram for that memory. . Remember that because it is key to how we think the Haike Process works.

• The Signal Vlog, Episode 101: The Haike Process

Haike felt like he was in a dream. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but events seemed to flow into each other through the night, merging and branching in a way he found hard to keep track of. It felt like he was being teleported by the clicks and flashes of cameras, finding himself in new locations, posing with different people without any recollection of moving anywhere. But, even through the haze, he could tell the Gala was beautiful. Mary had outdone herself. Everything in the decor and the arrangements held an understated elegance.

Haike flowed through the sea of people in a stunning white outfit, light, lustrous cotton adorned with cowrie shells and delicate grey stitched patterns that Mary had got for him. He shook hands and smiled but found that he was lost between handshakes. He’d be shaking one person’s hand, but by the time he let go, it was an entirely different person before him. The smiles were challenging, too. A makeup artist had done her best to cover his sunken features, but despite her expertise, he felt like there was dry mud slathered on his face that he had to fight through to make any expression.

Mary held his hand and whispered, “Don’t worry; I know this is not your scene. They’re here for you, but still, I’ve seen to it that this won’t take long.”

He nodded and actually gave a genuine smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt comforted by her presence.

The Haike Process has brought people together. Someone was speaking. He didn’t remember taking a seat and found he didn’t even know how far into the ceremony they were. God, he was so tired. The only way to see the world as others do. Lovers have swapped memories of events they shared. Artists and writers have shared their view of the world with others…

He felt Mary’s hand on his knee. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, only half genuine this time. He felt adrift.

I may be the CEO of Hewani Corp, but my husband is the real brain behind all of this. He is the genius that has altered the very course of human history.

Haike shook his head. Mary wasn’t next to him anymore; she was speaking. His hand was still on his knee where he’d placed it over hers, but nothing was there now. How…when? What was happening to him? The realisation that Mary was meant to introduce him to the stage made him panic. He was in no state to do this.

“So thank you so much,” Haike realised he was speaking and almost stumbled. The crowd that had been behind him stretched before him now. He swallowed, but he had recited the speech so much that it was second nature now. He could do this. “I could not be more humbled…”

“I told you it wouldn’t be long,” said Mary, her arm locked around his as they walked out of the event hall.

“Thank God it’s over,” Haike blinked rapidly to stop his head from spinning.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Mary laughed.

“I haven’t slept for a week; that felt like an eternity.”

“I know. But honestly, I think that tonight you should…”

Mary’s words, which would likely have started an argument, were cut short by a woman screaming. There was a commotion at one of the barriers as security guards chased after a woman running right towards Haike. She was holding something in her hands. A weapon? No, a bottle. Security was behind her, but they had been caught unaware. They wouldn’t catch her in time. He felt Mary stiffen beside him and resented that his reaction was exactly the same.

“You murderer!” The woman screamed. “You killed my husband! You killed my husband. You murderer!”

The woman flicked her wrist, and a red liquid, which very much seemed to be blood, sprayed from the bottle, splattering all over Haike’s face and his brilliant white ensemble.

Security finally caught the woman and dragged her away. She kept screaming, “You killed my husband! YOU KILLED MY HUSBAND! YOU MURDERER!”

 

Money Can Buy Happiness

Dr Haike has been super secretive about the details, but that hasn’t stopped the science community from buzzing with theories. The hot theory right now is something they’re calling the “forgetful hypothesis.”

The hypothesis suggests that the Haike process first chemically enhances memory recall. People who’ve gone through it report having crystal-clear memories with an insane level of detail throughout the process. Why do this? Well, if you’re going to transfer a memory, it makes sense to want that memory to be as sharp and accurate as possible, right?

Now, once the specific memory is targeted, here comes the real magic trick. The process deceives the brain into believing that this memory, this engram, needs to be re-consolidated and re-stored, which starts the encoding process. At this point, they bring in specially designed artificial neurons that are more competitive than our natural ones, allowing the system to snatch up the memory.

But why does this even work? Well, it turns out scientists have long figured that forgetting isn’t just about memories fading away. It’s actually an active, adaptive process where engrams reorganise and shift to different populations of neurons. Essentially, the Haike process triggers and exploits the natural “forgetting” mechanism. Pretty wild, huh?

• The Signal Vlog, Episode 101: The Haike Process

Haike opened his eyes and panicked. He’d fallen asleep—he’d actually fallen asleep! How could I have been so careless? How…It wasn’t until he sat up, out of breath, that he realised that he wasn’t in any pain. This wasn’t one of those mornings. Sighing, he fell back onto the bed, relieved, and laughed.

“It’s good to hear you laugh again,” Mary said, leaning against the bathroom door, smiling despite the toothbrush in her mouth. “I told you, you just needed some sleep, love.”

“Yeah, maybe you were right,” he said, glad that the irritation with her did not rise today. “My God, I feel so much better.”

Mary mumbled something lost in her brush strokes as she returned to the bathroom. He found himself smiling. Maybe he had been unfair to her. She’d held it together when he had spiralled. She’d handled the event without any help or input from him. In truth, Hewani ran because of Mary. Whatever her flaws, she had always supported him. He would need to remember that, even if the pain returned.

Haike grabbed his glasses from the side table, flicking on the AR switch as he put them on. A feed expanded from the centre of his vision, covering a fraction of the room translucently. The glasses almost toppled over his nose from the speed at which he sat up. The top image on the feed showed him with blood splattered across his white outfit from his knee, cutting an arc to his face. The trail on his lips made it look like the blood had come from his mouth, dripping down onto his body. The woman, the screams, the blood…he’d forgotten. It had felt like a strange, half-forgotten dream.

He adjusted the glasses and focused on the centre of the image. A circle spun, confirming that he was opening the link, and the words ‘The Signal’ flashed before him. The Signal was one of those social commentary blogs. Haike had often found it little more than a tabloid with intellectual pretensions. This video was live, and he’d found it ongoing.

These are the dangers of the Haike process we don’t talk about because we don’t want to seem anti-progress. Look, this poor woman’s husband was in debt. He had already sold everything he had to sell. What did he have left? His memories. We all know there’s a good market for happy memories. Everybody wants to experience somebody else’s version of happiness. Some even argue that it’s becoming an addiction, that happy memories, euphoric memories, are the new drug. But that’s beside the point. Nobody wants to talk about the class angle.

Poor people, people without options, are selling their happiness because they have no choice, not because they want to. This woman’s husband is not the only person to go too far. He’s not the only person to sell so much of their joy that they don’t even remember what it feels like to be happy. He’s just the one we’ve heard about because he killed himself. You know what, that’s not true. Even his death went unnoticed. We wouldn’t know if his wife didn’t stage a protest at the gala and get arrested for it. This is the part they don’t tell you about in the Hewani Corp sharing kumbayah marketing. That happiness is now a resource, strip-mined from the poor.

So, Doctor Haike got some paint on his fancy…

“What’s that look on your face? What are you watching?” Mary’s silhouette appeared dimly behind the feed.

“That woman from yesterday…” Haike whispered, “she…”

“Don’t watch that,” Mary gently pulled the glasses from his face, “it’s too early in the morning to subject yourself to the internet’s attack complex.”

“You’d already seen this?” Mary didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.

Haike buried his head in his hands, “This is so fucked up.”

“I know; it’s a tragedy no one could have imagined. What…”

“Mary,” he interrupted because he could already tell she was using him as a soundboard for his corporate response, “we need to start fixing things.”

“We’re trying…”

“Not hard enough. Too much is going on that I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“This case was a tragedy. We have clear guidelines about how often and how many memories can be hike…I mean, collected.”

“And it’s pretty clear those guidelines are not being followed.”

“We can’t control every one of our partners 24/7, then there’s the black market…”

“Did you know they’re selling bad memories there too now?”

“I mean, if people want to buy them…”

“So you did know!”

“Yes, I did.” There was now some steel in her voice, “honestly, I don’t care. If people want bad memories for some thrill, that’s their prerogative. We can’t control everybody!”

“And what if I think it is our problem? After all, it is my company.”

He saw her struggle to contain her anger. She flexed her fist, closed her eyes, and let out a long, slow breath. After a tense moment, she opened her eyes and walked up, sitting next to him.

“Look, love, I understand, truly I do. But you also have to understand this isn’t just some product. It’s the first great invention of the twenty-second century. No great invention does not see some misuse. A great deal of misuse. But we’re trying, I know you know we’re trying. Half the company’s research budget is spent on the copy-paste project. It’s all you work on yourself. I think our efforts, this thing you are feeling, are best all channelled there. We can beat ourselves up every time something goes wrong, or we can focus on a permanent solution.”

The copy-paste project was the proposed third phase of the Haike Process—a refinement, an alteration that would see the first step be a copy of a memory, not a removal, allowing the subject to maintain their memory even if a copy was kept. But no matter how much he worked on it, it always felt like he could only scratch the edge of it. The final solution eluded him.

As quickly as it had come, his rage melted away. He did not have the strength to keep arguing. Once again, he was so, so tired.

“I understand, Mary,” he heard himself say without conviction. “I’ll…I’ll just keep working on it.”

 

 The Appropriate Appreciation of Culture

..and we continue to lose the war on privacy and decency. We’re learning there’s a new crop of millionaires who made their fortune in the most unorthodox ways. You’re not going to believe it, but people who slept with celebrities before they were famous are apparently selling their memories of the acts for millions on the black market,

• The Signal Vlog, Episode 127: What’s Your Fantasy?

“What the fuck is this?” Haike slammed his hand on the screen that made up Mary’s desk. The desk lit up, and a red file icon with the Hewani Corp logo appeared before Mary.

Mary made a show of turning off her AR glasses and staring at the file. “I don’t know, love. Maybe you should tell me what that is.”

Her sarcasm enraged him, but he managed to contain it. He twisted three fingers on the desk, and the file name appeared. ‘Marketing Department: Memories of the Maasai, a cultural journey to elder-ship.’

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that! What is this bullshit?”

“It’s just a proposal.”

“Just a proposal!?” his attempts at a calm confrontation collapsed into a growl.

“Love, remember the office walls are made of glass; at least try to make it look like we’re not fighting.”

“Fuck you!”

“Look, I already told you, it’s just a proposal. Don’t take it so seriously.”

“Don’t play that game with me,” Haike pulled up a page of the file on his glasses and started reading, “This premium offering targets discerning customers looking for more than just standard linguistic experiences available on the market. The product features immersive memories from experts with deep experience in Maasai traditions, customs, and history. We have engaged with several esteemed Maasai clans and secured agreements, ensuring that clients holding a valid Hewani certificate will gain the unique status of honorary Maasai elders. This exclusive aspect enhances the product’s appeal in the luxury market segment.”

Mary kept silent, watching him.

“Well? We’ve already secured agreements?”

“What? It says right there that they agreed. Everyone is a willing participant.”

“What the hell does that matter? This is the height of commodifying cultural appropriation.”

“Cultural appreciation…”

“Fuck you! How the hell did you think I would be okay with this?”

“How is this any different from trading in the memory of languages?”

“It’s different because you tricked me…”

“Come on,” Mary scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Shut up! You know it’s true. When I protested against selling languages, you told me it would be small in scale and highly limited. That is not what you did…”

“Please! You were well aware of…”

“Do not interrupt me!” Haike shouted now. “I’ve been reading up on it. They’re calling it the fall of Babel, the scattering of African languages around the world. Some languages are almost lost and sold off. You’ve been taking advantage of my distraction.”

Mary’s jaw flexed, and with a deliberate movement, she took off her glasses, placed both hands on the table, which made the screen go blank, and stood up. “Instead of barging into my office, acting all high and mighty, perhaps you might want to learn to take some goddamn responsibility.”

“What…”

“I tricked you?” she pointed at his chest. “The nerve. I tricked you?”

“Don’t try to act offended. You always prevaricate, hiding the true scale of what you’re doing because you know I’m too distracted with my work to follow up on the details.”

“You’re the founder and executive chair of this company,” she held her hands out incredulously, “Now you want to act like you didn’t sit in every board meeting and get exactly the same information as everybody else?”

“I was not consulted on…”

“So you don’t receive the language sales numbers? You’re saying that you just stumbled upon this information from reading up? Get fucking real. The only reason you don’t know is because you couldn’t be bothered to.”

“I…”

“You are unbelievable. You spend your nights drinking in bars, paying no attention to what goes on in this company and then barge in here to complain when decisions are made.”

“You know I’m not drinking; you know damn well why I go there…”

“Yeah, to escape your headaches, or man flu or whatever, and then you spend your days doing nothing. Meanwhile, I keep everything together, this company, your company together.”

“You can belittle what I’m going through, but that doesn’t change the facts. Maybe I don’t spend enough time in the office….”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe! But you know this is wrong.”

“I’m working with what I’ve got. The funding needs to come from somewhere. You’re mad at me, but the truth is, you should be mad at yourself. None of your concerns would exist if you focused on delivering the copy-paste project. So, if you don’t like it, you are literally the only person who can do something about it.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“What’s not fair is that my husband, my partner, wants to leave me all the work while he rides on his past glory. In the office, I work alone; at home, I sleep alone – while you do nothing! I’ve taken it silently and done my part, so I don’t know where you get off coming to yell at me because you haven’t done yours. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work; I suggest you do the same.”

Mary performed an almost perfect reversal of the motion she had used to get up and then proceeded to very obviously ignore him, fiddling with her glasses.

Haike stared in disbelief. He searched within for a response, but there was none to be found.

 

The Memory of Paper

The world is abuzz with Hewani Corp’s new program, the Legacy Inheritance project. People on their deathbeds will have the option to leave memories of their choice to individuals or float them on the market. Many prominent personalities, including creatives, leaders, and influencers, have already signed up. Hewani Corp has been quick to emphasise the personal angle. Many will have the option to leave prized memories for their children, spouses, or friends.

• The Signal Vlog, Episode 200: Legacy Inheritance

Haike had chosen the bar that night more to stay away from home than to avoid sleep. Mary’s words would not stop ringing in his head. Had he been that negligent? That distracted? He could not bring himself to believe that he had signed off on so much without considering the ramifications. When had he become this person?

The woman’s words from the other night came back to him. He is, without a doubt, one of the worst things that has ever happened to this planet. That man and his process are a bloody pandemic, and I don’t understand why no one sees that. He has literally ruined society.

Haike scribbled furiously in his notepad. He was attracting attention, but he didn’t care. It was a strange sight in a bar and would have been strange anywhere. People rarely used physical books anymore, but he’d always found things felt more real when committed from pen to paper. The one thing Mary had indeed been correct about was that he needed to complete the copy-paste solution. This had to be his focus. He had to, he had to…

He stopped with a jerk when he realised the page was ripping under the intensity of his writing. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself but dared not wait too long. His new theory needed to be captured before it could get away. The next stroke of his pen caused another rip in the page. He paused. While he had pressed down his pen, it had surely not been enough to do that, had it? He looked closer and realised the pen had run over a grove in the paper caused by a previous vigorous writing session. Something from his ripped pages?

He turned the page and brought it close to his face, inspecting it. A sudden rush of realisation washed over him. The same reason had caused all the tears on the previous page. He had written this before—precisely this. His pen was running over a path it had tread before.

 

Memory Static

So, there’s some emerging research that suggests using the Haike process frequently might be more dangerous than we thought. Here’s the theory: When artificial neurons are added and then taken away with engrams, it seems to mess with the brain’s efficiency and causes a bit of a mix-up. It’s like the brain keeps looking for its memory files, can’t find them, and eventually thinks, “Okay, maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit?”

The outcomes are pretty concerning. Memories that should be accessible suddenly aren’t. Sometimes, when the brain tries to pull up these memories, it starts grabbing at neurons that aren’t even part of the original memory, or pulls up completely different memories instead. This leads to memory problems and confusion that mirrors what we see in some types of memory disorders and even dementia.

– The Signal Vlog, Episode 211: Memory Loss

 

Home had never felt so foreign to Haike. He walked through the door, and everything felt slightly askew, just enough to be perceptible without being able to point out the cause. Mary was seated on the sofa, head leaned back. She seemed to be watching something, but the lack of telltale, coloured dots projected on the surface of the glass betrayed her; she was faking it.

“We need to talk,” he said, arms folded to seem authoritative, but the gesture somehow felt more like he was trying to protect himself.

“Oh,” she adjusted forward, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees, “I take it you’ve figured it out again.”

Again? The word seemed to bounce around the room, reverberating through him and adding more layers to what he had already discovered.

“It does get a bit tedious, this little cycle we’ve found ourselves in,” she said. It’s taking you less time to crack the solution, even when I widen the memory wipe parameters. I might have to try something different this time.”

Haike was stunned by the casualness of the statement. This revelation had shaken his very core, and his mind could not reconcile the blasé indifference with which she confirmed it. As soon as he saw the groves in the paper, he knew he had cracked the copy-paste solution before. It was sad how quickly it became apparent that only Mary could have taken it away from him. He had known, but he had not truly believed it. A part of him had not wanted to accept it. But to see her here like this, saying these things — not only was it true, but it had happened more than once.

“Why?” he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Why?”

“Why else?” she shrugged. “Business. A copy-paste Haike process would be more convenient, but it wouldn’t be very profitable, would it? Not for long. It would skew the supply and demand curves in the wrong direction. Scarcity is what keeps the price up. You’re smart, love; you should have figured this out already.”

Haike had come here with an understanding of what she had done, but he only now realised the depths of it. He had heard her anger before, but never this contempt and callousness. He did not know this woman.

“It’s really becoming quite the problem,” she said, getting to her feet, “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d help me figure out how to stop you next time?” Mary did not walk towards him; instead, she started pacing. “It’s for your own good. Surely, the headaches alone should tell you that this isn’t sustainable. No one should get Hiked this many times in such a short span. It’s not healthy. And I’ve noticed you’ve started to lose time, too. You were practically on autopilot throughout the gala. Had to shorten the program to get you out of there before you did something unexpected.”

Haike watched her, trying to understand her plan. She could not overpower him and did not seem to be armed. Yet, she was calm and entirely unbothered. She seemed to believe that she was entirely in control of the situation.

“How many times have you done this to me?” he asked.

“It’s hard to say. You’ve figured it out, what, seven times now?” she shook her head as if to push away a distracting thought and changed the direction of her pacing. “Then there were the times I needed you more—compliant. When I needed you to sign off on critical decisions or stop derailing active concerns, it was easier to do when you didn’t know much about them. I would say, thirty-something, maybe forty times at most.”

Forty times? That was reckless, dangerous even. Even spread over years, it was far beyond the maximum recommended number of procedures. Especially over the same memory clusters. What had she done to him?

“Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Mary seemed oblivious to the words’ effect on him. She was still pacing, not looking at him. “But you’re too high profile. The investigation, if someone noticed the effects of the wipes on your brain…simply too risky.”

“That’s the only reason? Mary? Really?”

“Don’t be like that, love. You need to understand that while you don’t remember, words have been said—things that can’t be taken back. This marriage has already died several times over.”

“I don’t know who you are, Mary. I look at you and don’t even know who I’m looking at.”.

“It’s hardly your fault, but you’ve missed a lot,” she said with a sadness that almost sounded genuine.

“You can’t keep doing this to me. My brain will collapse eventually; you’ll get caught anyway.” He edged forward, considering lunging at her.

“On that, we agree. I’ve been working on a solution; it should be ready soon,” she suddenly looked right at him. “Don’t try to do anything stupid. We’ve been through this many, many times. I know all your moves.”

“You act like I’m just going to let you do this again.”

“Let me? There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Haike decided to make his move before she revealed some kind of trap, but a shadow fell over him before he could move. Startled, he leapt to the side, turning and almost falling over. A man was standing by the door, but something was wrong with him. He seemed…sick. His skin was ashen, and veins were prominent across his temple, bulging beyond what should have been to a worrying degree. His eyes were a grotesque red, veins seeming to climb over each other all through his eyeballs.

“Don’t be alarmed, love. He’s mostly harmless.”

“What the hell is this?”

“One of my assistants. You always try to fight or run, and I’ve found it’s easier to contain you when I’m not alone.”

The man wore loose-fitting garments that made him look like a monk. Based on the discolouration of his skin and the sheer extent of visible veins, he suspected that the clothes were intended to reduce contact with the skin. Skin that was, no doubt, extremely sensitive to stimulus.

“What have you done, Mary?”

“Part of the solution to our little problem. You’ve never thought much of my intellect, but I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for. I may not be a scientist like you, but I know how to think ahead; I see all the way to the end.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I’m diversifying. While the Haike process is profitable, your continued intransigence and the possibility that someone else will eventually crack the technology, well… I needed to find the next thing. To reduce my reliance on you. And for that, I needed a team to help with my research. For obvious reasons, this kind of project needed to be a secret, so a small team was best. A small team but with as broad a knowledge base as possible….”

Haike understood. Mary had loaded this man with more memories than a mind would ordinarily hold. She had created walking encyclopaedias to fast-track his research projects in secret.

“Did he agree to this?” Haike was finding it difficult to take his eyes off the strange man.

“Of course, this wouldn’t work if it wasn’t voluntary. Marwa’s family is very well taken care of.”

“What about the people you took the memories from? Scientists have always been the most reluctant group to embrace the process.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Haike looked back at Mary, his disgust with her finding new depths just when he thought there could be no more. “And what do you plan to do with me? You can’t kill me. And if you keep wiping my memory…”

“You’ll start to lose your cognition. Start to act strange, out of sorts. A genius losing his mind…tragic, but not a surprise. It’s the kind of thing everyone believes happens. No one will question when you have left the public eye. Everyone will know I am doing my very best to ensure you get the finest care the world can provide. Just a loving wife doing her duty. No one will even think to question. ”

“You’re a monster, Mary. I honestly can’t believe you. You’re a monster.”

“No, not a monster. I just don’t have my head in the clouds. I understand the true shape of the world. I only wish that you could see it too. One day, when it doesn’t matter, when we do bring copy-paste into fruition, I’ll show you my perspective. You’ll understand. I promise.”

Haike looked at the man, Marwa, and weighed his odds. He could attack; with what Mary had done to him, the toll on Marwa’s body, Haike could quickly get past him and escape. A slap on his sensitive skin was likely enough to send Marwa out of his path. Haike’s mistake was taking his eyes off Mary. He’d forgotten that he had likely had this exact thought before, and she knew exactly what he planned to do. The cloth was over his mouth before he could even try to fight back.

 

Muscle Memory

The Legacy Inheritance project raised a question that, to date, seems unanswered. There are indications that some aspect of memory is stored not in the brain but in the body. One of the most common inheritance gifts was a skill, and, to no one’s surprise, it was not as easy to transfer the memory as with language or pure mental knowledge. But what was interesting was that, even when the memory of a trade was taken from a craftsman, everything about his tools – where they were, how he’d held them, the best and the worst of them, seemed to stay intact. Many questions remain about the phenomenon of Muscle Memory.

– The Signal Vlog, Episode 244: Muscle Memory

Haike dreaded going to sleep. Night after night, he found himself putting off bedtime, finding distractions to avoid the inevitable. The problem was not the night or the dreamless sleep that had become his portion—it was the waking up. He dreaded going to sleep because sometimes, it meant mornings like this.

He breathed slowly through his teeth, fighting the urge to cry out. He tried to open his eyes again, and, just as before, he met resistance. Even the slightest twitch of his eyelids sent intense pain streaking across his scalp in a complex web. His skull felt like cracked glass threatening to fall apart if he made even the slightest miscalculation.

“Hey, love,” he heard Mary whisper, “Another one of those mornings?”

He groaned, unable to respond with words.

Mary held his hand and kissed it. “Don’t worry, love. This will pass.”

He felt a revulsion at her touch. It was an intense aversion, an almost hate, that rose to his throat, dragging angry words along with it that he had to fight down. He felt to the depth of his bones that Mary could not be trusted. Haike did not understand why this pain always made him feel this way. Mary did not deserve it; he was too harsh on her. She’d always held it together when he couldn’t. She handled the company; in truth, Hewani ran because of Mary. Whatever her flaws, she had always supported him. Hadn’t she?

Still, the wedding ring felt heavy on his finger, like it did not belong. Why? He opened his eyes through the pain and stared at her, wondering if he would see the answer in her eyes.