Science fiction short story: Waiting for rain (Part 2/3)
“Grant Bliss access to the memory lobe. We might be able to alleviate your stress levels.”
“But I am fine.”
She crossed her arms. “Look, how do you think we can help you if you don’t let us ‘in’ to your head?”
I don’t want your help, I wanted to say, but the words that came out were
“How do I do that?”
“We will send it a technician to adjust the memory chip. And then…”
“Do it. Bye.” I pressed a button to end transmission.
Alleviate mental stress. Maybe that is what I needed. This intense sense of nostalgia as the cold mist splashed across my face, and the enormous emptiness that hit me every time I tried to remember… Words could not express the feeling. I crouched down to my knees on the velvet carpet. The hum from my chip was beginning to pierce my eardrums. I looked at the water level monitors again. One of the meter readings was dangerously close to critical.
Mother. She was hospitalized last year, diagnosed with stage three brain-cancer. She was comatose for the past month. I had only visited her once. I just didn’t have the time. Should I have visited her more? Had she woken up?
There was a ring at the door. I saw the technician waiting outside. He tapped at the sound-proof glass. The company made sure nobody was the least bit distracted. Before I opened the door, I touched my communicator, and the girl came up on the holographic monitor.
“Hello sir. The technician should be there in a… oh, he’s there at your door. “She pointed, smiling.
“My mother died this morning.” I told her.
“I am so sorry sir.” She said. She was no longer cheerful.
“You knew that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“Nothing that you need to, sir.” She said.
“Please, tell me.”
She shuddered for the faintest of seconds.
“You mother had woken up. She wanted to speak to you.”
The company could not spare me the time. It was understandable. A couple of meaningless words from a dying mother to her son. It was understandable. The hum from the device was drilling into my head now.
I let the technician in. After the adjustments were made, I sat down on my chair, feeling quite all right for a while.
A bolt of lightning lit up the room, and a memory flashed before me. I was standing, naked on a tub. My mother sat in a chair in front of me. She had a remote in her hands. I could not see her face clearly, but she was saying something. She pressed the remote, and cold water sprayed from the shower, and I started to shiver. I looked at her, but her face was hidden behind a veil of blurredness.
Another bolt of lightning, and I was back in my office. Was that a memory?
Another flash of memories hit me now. It was a cold night, and I was standing outside the house. I was crying and banging at the door. But she would not open it. The memory faded out in a while, but I could still taste the tears. But was it tears? No. My mouth felt bitter with hatred as I thought about how I hated the woman who died today. I realized now how much I loathed the woman – the woman who tortured me as a child for the slightest reasons, and…
NO!
Something cried out from the depth of my memories. That never happened! I clutched the handle of my chair and squeezed shut my eyes, trying to remember.
(To be continued)
Image: http://img.eltipografo.cl/media/2014/...
