Memory Trials

CyberFame. Everyone wants to earn CyberFame. And sometimes it happens.

She did it, Cyrus thought as he reached up to touch his outdated laptop screen. As he did so, he noticed that he was not the only one enchanted by Jazz's movements. Behind him some of the tunnel crowd watched the replays of Jazz’s switchback headstand wheelie from over his shoulder. This stunt had been the one that had landed her a sponsor--ArcCorp, the most coveted sponsor on the web--just days following the Arcadia stunt. It was the dream. Now, Jazz had no problems getting facetime for her stunt work. She was everywhere. Without a sponsor, fame might come instantly, but it would also be fleeting and soon forgotten. People only cared about what was thrown in front of them, and that came with money. Now, because of the Arcadia Hall stunt, Jazz had it all.

Cyrus hit the replay button again and watched mesmerized as Jazz streaked across the screen in her bright neon-blue halter. His favorite. Cyrus could not move his eyes from the neon blur, and as Jazz entered into her big finale, he held his breath. In one fluid movement, Jazz used her arms to support the weight of her body in a seamless headstand. Her movements were effortless. Graceful. Upon completion, the stunned Arcadians erupted in applause. Not one of the rich glitterfolk seemed to realize that Jazz appeared to have single-handedly crashed their party.

“But, you did have a little help, didn’t you…” Cyrus whispered to the screen.

Curfew reminder for all Abaddon citizens.

Lights out at 22:00 hours.

Tubes 3, 8, and 11 will be leaving in fifteen minutes.

Walk time from the Courtyard Commons is approximately half an

hour.

Great Uncle Samuel (A.K.A. Gus) never missed a curfew warning. The reminder caused Cyrus to sigh. He would soon need to leave the Commons and would be unable to access the web. Before disconnecting though, he checked his messages once more.

Still nothing from Jazz.

The disappointment caused Cyrus to shut his laptop with a loud thud, which drew unwanted stares from those nearest him.

“Gutterpunks,” the nearest suit muttered under his breath.

To his credit, Cyrus let it go. He gathered his meager belongings quickly and stuffed them into his hand-me-down black leather messenger bag. He rose from his seat and began walking south toward Abbadon. Within only a few blocks the atmosphere changed from crowded Internet Cafes and public transit to cheap dive bars and trash-filled streets. Abaddon was much darker than the Commons…and dirtier. The streets were empty except for a few loitering brain potatoes and breeders lurking near abandoned storefronts and closed shops. The only lights remaining were those signaled by the last lingering street traffic.

Several years ago, solar-powered street lights and neon marketing marquees were converted to have motion sensors. It was both an effort to save power and to improve safety. It was hard to sneak around the city when your every movement spurred the bright neon lights of Derm and Dancer advertisements. Fortunately, Cyrus had never really been into any of that. He’d much rather be blowing code than blowing brain cells, which gave his mind plenty of time to wander…to her.

How long had it been since he had felt those pouty lips on his? Six…no, eight weeks. It had been eight long weeks since he had broken Gus’ Arcadia firewalls. A feat that could not be replicated, no matter how hard he tried. He still didn’t know how he had managed it that night. Eight weeks since the stunt. And eight weeks since he had heard from Jazz.

“If I had known getting you to Arcadia would make me lose everything…” but Cyrus couldn’t force himself to finish the thought out loud. Deep down, he knew it wouldn’t have changed anything. He had loved…did love Jazz. He’d do anything for her. What’s the saying, “If you love ‘em, let ‘em go?”

There are exactly 387 songs referencing “Love ‘em

And Let ‘em go, which do--

“Fuck off, Gus.” Cyrus responded flatly. He hadn’t been aware he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Cyrus Stanley Smith. You have been given one demerit for

vulgarity in the quad…”

Cyrus cringed slightly, knowing the demerit fine would already be taken from his account. He turned and bit his thumb at the quad screen displaying the A.I. form known as Gus, sure that the literary reference would go unrecorded.

It had.

Cyrus, not for the first time, marveled at the A.I.’s name. Some government nerds really had a sense of humor. Uncle Sam 2.0. But, hey, it worked back during the old wars, right? Cyrus thought wryly. He just wasn’t quite sure what he was being drafted for these days. Nothing really ever changed in Arcadia-Abaddon. Gutterpunks were gutterpunks, and glitterfolk were glitterfolk. That is unless you were Jazz or someone like her. The thought of Jazz made Cyrus’ breath catch, and his gait slowed as he thought of his lost love.

These bittersweet memories were short-lived, however, as Cyrus’ movements had triggered the drone of a new advertisement he had never seen before.

Memory Trials starting now. Make brain fog a thing of the past.

Store Memories or Retrieve Them! Each qualifying memory dump

equals one entry into the New Arcadia Citizen drawing. Help end

Alzheimer's and Substance Abuse Related Dementia while achieving

THE DREAM.

“What did she say?” Cyrus stepped in front of the last screen’s motion sensor and waited for the grey-clad model to repeat the commercial, which confirmed what he thought he’d heard. “Additional entries into the N.A.C. drawing…Maybe if I could just get into Arcadia, I could find Jazz. I’m sure there has to be a good explanation for why she hasn’t contacted me,” Cyrus mused, thinking about the possibilities of this Memory Trial.

After a few moments, Cyrus decided to get more information. He knew his interest inquiry would be recorded, but he was actually interested in this, so he didn’t care if it showed on his monthly inquiry report.

“Gus,” Cyrus summoned. The screen quickly changed to show Gus’s digital form.

Citizen Smith. How might Gus be of assistance?

“Please provide more information on the upcoming Memory Trials.”

The current Memory Trials scheduled are intended to help with

dementia.

Both Bioware and Nanotechnology are utilized to retrieve and

store participant memories. The study is intended to determine

whether this technology will be effective in curing and/or

offsetting dementia-related memory loss.

“Gus, when is the next screening for the Memory Trials?”

Screenings are scheduled for 0800 in the Commons.

The N.A.C will also be determined tomorrow. The timing could not be any better, Cyrus thought. He couldn’t believe his good fortune and begrudgingly addressed the A.I. on the screen. “Thanks, Gus. I guess you’re all right sometimes.”

You’re welcome, Citizen Smith. You are reminded that curfew

is in fifteen minutes.

“And there it is…” Cyrus bit his thumb at Gus once more and jaunted down the street toward his apartment pod. If he hurried, he could just barely make it before lights out. He definitely didn’t want to get locked out again. Tomorrow would hopefully be a long day for Cyrus.

***

Cyrus reached the Commons at 0730. He was one of many gutterpunks already assembled. Together they were a sea of baggy black cargo pants, ripped tunics and neon-tipped hair. Cyrus was not surprised. The additional N.A.C. entries promised to study participants were like winning a small lottery. Literally. The New Arcadia Citizen was always determined by lottery, and it was rare that individuals earned extra chances to win. Even Cyrus was intrigued by this carrot.

If anything, Cyrus had always cursed the N.A.C. process. Deep down, he knew that the N.A.C.s was just another way to control the gutterpunks. It was a farce really. The odds were just too great. But today, he had to believe that love and luck would be on his side. Cyrus inched his way toward one of the sign-up booths.

Good morning, Citizen Smith. Are you here to participate in the

Memory Trials?

Cyrus bit back the urge to tell Gus he was pretty stupid for an A.I. “Well, Gus, you know I’m here for that purpose. We spoke about it last night.”

Correct. At twenty forty-five you said “Please provide more--”

“I get it, Gus, I know what I said. It just seems dumb you always act like you don’t know something, but you do. You know like everything. And why wouldn’t you? You’re always there watching.”`

I am programmed to watch. It is for the safety of all of Arcadia-

Abaddon. And I ask because humans often change their minds. I

have observed

this on numerous occasions and so have been programmed to ask

confirmation questions when human decision-making is involved.

“I wonder how often that happens,” Cyrus queried out loud, but Gus did not respond. Instead, Cyrus stood in silence, staring awkwardly at the A.I. as he contemplated asking what he should do now. Cyrus couldn’t tell if Gus was still processing his last words or waiting on Cyrus to ask a question.

Scan is clean. Please proceed to one of the shuttle buses to the

Right. Have a great day.

Well, that was easy, Cyrus mused as he made his way to the shuttle buses. He paused when he saw the candy apple red lettering on the side: ArcCorp. This can’t be a coincidence, Cyrus thought. It’s gotta be fate. He boarded the bus eagerly, sure that this would be the moment that began his journey back to Jazz.

All-in-all, the trip to the Memory Trial labs was pretty uneventful. Cyrus and the rest of the participants signed a few waivers as they relaxed with their complimentary beverages. Otherwise, everyone pretty much kept to themselves. Most of the study participants were probably thinking about what life would be like as an Arcadia citizen, but not Cyrus. Cyrus couldn’t stop thinking about reuniting with Jazz.

Welcome participants. Your room assignments correspond to the

last four numbers on your trial pass. Rooms are alphanumeric.

Letters correspond to hall assignment and numbers correspond to

rooms.

Cyrus examined his trial pass: M019. With any luck, this will lead me right back to Jazz. He kissed his pass for luck and opened the door that read M019. The sterile, tech-filled room left him speechless.

Greetings Citizen Smith. Please make yourself comfortable as we

deliver your conscious sedation.

Cyrus laid back in the exam chair and watched as the two assistants connected him to the countless wires and pads that were attached to every possible type of monitoring equipment. It was a little overwhelming.

“I guess you’ll know if something goes wrong."

“Please count backward from ten,” the assistant replied without smiling.

Cyrus shrugged and began his count. “Ten, nine, eight…seven….” Cyrus was out. He would remember nothing.

Memory Trial 019: Results

(Eight weeks between trial initiation and return.)

Subjects: Cyrus Smith and Jazz Brown.

(Subjects experienced no contact following initial separation.)

Reunion attempts:

Failed attempt to hack Arcadia mainframe by Smith.

Failed attempt to leave Arcadia by Brown.

(Brown was shot and put into stasis following the attempt at week 3.)

No physical contact was attempted by Smith.

Conclusions

Inconclusive.

No discernable outcome differences appear between male and female subjects. Outcomes appear random and differ from previous trials.

No definitive conclusions can be made regarding human social behaviors related to relationships.

Next Steps

Memory wipe and reset.

Digital footprint scrub; retrieval of all sponsored media content.

New “First Meet.”

Time and Location: 2100, N.A.C. announcement in The Commons.

Trial 020: Begin.