AlexMcGilvery Array - Nano Bytes

«Ecks? Talk to me buddy.»

«Are you hurt?

A short story originally done for Challenge 1 on the Science Fiction profile by Jake Kerr (see dedication), who is a Nebula, Sturgeon, and StorySouth Award nominee.

The struggle is not what I remember most about the delivery boy’s procedure. It’s the girl. The one buried deep in his mind. Hidden in his memory like a keepsake.

But of course, it would be difficult to forget that struggle. The delivery boy fought harder than most. Maybe that’s because his breach was more personal than the others’. A repeat offender. Fueled by fascination and obsession. While most offenses are merely accidental. A slip up.

Delivery boys are the bread and butter of our department. The nature of their job makes them prone to seeing more than they should. But there are plenty of others brought in as well. Mail carriers, caterers, tutors, relatives, suppliers. Anyone from the outside, without a security clearance level, is susceptible to breaches.

But like I said, most are not intentional.

The delivery boy, according to the report, had returned again and again. Had gotten too close. And had finally been caught.

I had to admire his persistence. And feel just the slightest bit sorry for him.

«Let me out of here!» he screamed, banging on the bolted door. «You can’t keep me locked in here like a prisoner!»

I watched him through the window. Dr. Solara was already starting to work her magic on him. It’s hard not to fall for that body and face. Every guy in this department is guilty of at least one fantasy starring the tall, blond doctor. Even me.

But novelty wears off fast.

And things are different on this side of the window.

«Don’t worry.» She attempted to subdue him with a gentle touch on the arm. «We’re not going to hurt you. Please just have a seat.»

She gestured to the chair in the middle of the room.

By the look in the boy’s eyes, he could tell it wasn’t just a chair.

No one ever thinks it’s just a chair.

The boy glared at it as Dr. Solara offered him one of her winning smiles.

Normally the smile is enough. It’s the reason Dr. Solara has earned the title of «Mediator.» She’s good with the offenders. Mediators have to have smiles like that. It’s part of the job description.

I, on the other hand, just have to know how to push the buttons. Sometimes I think that’s all I am to them—a button pusher. The guy who writes the code. Who uploads the file. Who performs the final system tests to make sure the restorations are successful.

What they don’t seem to understand is that there’s an art to it. Ultimately, Revisual+ is a programming language like any other. But the language of memories is so much more than just logic and a degree in software engineering.

I observed the boy’s reaction carefully, waiting for that inevitable moment when he finally surrendered to his fate. When he succumbed to whatever kind of procedure this was. When he finally resigned to sitting in the chair that’s clearly not just a chair.

Eventually they all surrender.

The needle came from behind. Almost immediately after the boy sat down. It jutted out from the seat’s tall back, puncturing him in the neck. His whole body stiffened.

«Don’t worry,” Dr. Solara assured him again with another radiant smile, pushing the hair back from his forehead. «It will be over before you know it. And you won’t remember a thing.»

I rolled up to my desk to prepare my system for retrieval. As the boy’s eyelids started to sag, his gaze floated languidly in my direction. For a second, I swore he could actually see me, his accusing eyes penetrating the barrier between us.

Of course, I knew this was ridiculous. The only thing he could see on the other side of that window was whatever soothing landscape the doctor had chosen to project.

But I ducked my head nonetheless and focused on my monitor.

Dr. Solara appeared through the door a minute later, after the delivery boy was out. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair, tugging on the ends as though she meant to pull them straight from the roots.

«What a piece of work, huh?» she grunted, all traces of femininity wiped clean from her voice.

I opted not to comment. In the three years I’ve been working here, I’ve learned that the less I engage in conversation, the better. «Retrieval in sixty seconds,” I reported.

She sighed and pressed her balled fists to her hips. No smiles in this room.

The download progress bar inched its way across my screen, filling empty space with digital green pigment.

«Ready for metadata,” I announced, fingers poised on keys.

Dr. Solara lowered herself into the adjoining station and began to list off the subject’s stats. «Name: Niko Benz. Age: Nineteen. Occupation: Employee at Sunset Valley Flowers and Gifts. Address: 171 North Cannon …»

I entered the data with the precision and speed of a machine.

«How much do you need to see?» I asked.

«The last two weeks.» I immediately noted the annoyance in her tone. Having to review that much footage is a daunting task. «Filter out anything that doesn’t reference the infraction. I don’t need to watch this guy taking a dump.»

I yawned and input the search parameters. The results spit out a moment later and I transferred them to her terminal, activating the Revisualization program.

Dr. Solara rubbed at her painted cheeks as she watched the downloaded memories play out on the screen. I tried to keep my eyes glued to my own monitor, knowing full well that it’s not the coder’s job to assess the infraction. It’s only my job to remove it. And of course, leave something believable in its place.

But it was hard not to look. Especially once I saw the reason the boy was here.

The reason he was unconscious in that room on the other side of the window. And then everything became clear.

It was a girl.

But not just any girl.

Her intoxicating purple eyes flashed in and out of the delivery boy’s mind all day. Her flawless face mesmerized him. Consumed him. He thought about her everywhere he went. He fantasized about her constantly. Caressing her smooth bronzed skin. Running his fingers through her silky caramel–colored hair. Kissing her delectable pink lips.

It was she who kept him coming back. Who captivated the poor boy beyond reprieve. He was originally sent here on a routine delivery. A fruit basket, of all things. An innocent task turned into something else.

And for a face that exquisite, it was hard to blame him.

I felt myself leaning forward in my chair, gazing at Dr. Solara’s monitor. Falling into the delivery boy’s fantasies. Replacing his hands, his fingers, his mouth with my own.

It was the time codes on my screen that finally jolted me out of my trance. I surveyed them as they flickered past, seeming to go on forever. Two weeks’ worth of memories.

And she was in nearly every single one of them.

«Damn it!» Dr. Solara cursed, pushing her chair back violently. I could feel her stale, coffee–soaked breath on my face. «There are references everywhere. It’s all this guy thought about for two frickin’ weeks.»

She switched off her monitor and I solemnly watched the girl’s delicate face dissolve into blackness, the brilliant purple hue of her eyes the last to fade.

Dr. Solara groaned and rose to her feet, but her body remained hunched over in defeat. «Just …» she began with a frustrated sigh. «… take it all.»

«Doctor?» I questioned, a flash of panic shuddering through me. «Are you sure? A two–week restoration will take all night. Not to mention the potential side effects on the subject.»