The Journal of Memories

Hello everyone! Happy graduation to class of 2020!!! I am finally graduating from high school today so I will have more time to write! Enjoy the chapter! - Mad Dog

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It was snowing outside now, everything was covered in a soft white. I was still sitting next to Luna staring at the tablet.

Why did they say we were responsible for all of this? We were the victims. We can’t even remember things about ourselves.

Luna snapped back to reality, dropping her coffee mug onto the floor, causing it to shatter everywhere, “W-what... w-why... I-I don’t understand.”

I slowly came back to my senses, “I-I d-don’t know.”

She looked at me with big watery eyes, “Do you think Dr. Simon had something to do with this? Like you said he wants us dead. This is probably all part of that plan.”

I wiped a tear from her face with my thumb, “Hey listen, let’s forget about this and focus on finding my dad. He can help us... We just have to be careful, we are going to have a lot of people after us now.”

She nodded her head.

“You aren’t going to quit on me right? You weird superhero.”

She gave me a small smile, “I won’t quit on you. You motorcycle gang leader.”

I laughed, “Damn it! I thought you would have forgotten about that.”

She let out an evil laugh, “Never!”

I playfully hit her arm, “Well since you are all cheery again. Why don’t you explore this suite to clean up the mess you made?”

She pouted, “Hey I made you coffee. You should at least clean for me.”

“Not a chance. I would have washed the mug but it looks like you don’t have one anyone.”

She jumped up and began looking through some of the cupboards, “You are so evil.”

I chuckled, “Not as evil as you!”

After she was looking through the cupboard I heard her let out what sounded like a squeal, “Oh my god! I didn’t even think these existed anymore!”

I walked over to what she was looking at. It was a pretty decent sized wooden box with some buttons and knobs. There was a circular part on top and an arm looking thing with a needle at the end of it, “What is that? It looks ancient.”

She laughed, “It is ancient! It is a record player. Don’t you know what that is?”

I thought for a moment and shook my head.

“It plays music. Now I just have to find some records.”

Music?

Shock.

Well at least I remember what music is. I still have no clue on this whole record thing.

She looked through the closet again, “Found them!”

She pulled out a stack of worn out paper folders. Most of them had pictures, artwork, and what I am assuming to be words.

We both sat down, picking up the folders, and looking at them. Luna grabbed one then her eyes dimmed, “Do you know what this is?”

I shrugged, “No clue.”

Her face looked down, “It’s classical music... Chopin, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, and Viviadi.”

I shrugged again, “What are you talking about?”

“Here... It’s better if you just listen.”

She pulled a big black disk out of the folder and placed it on the box. It began spin when she pressed a button then she placed the arm over it, turning a knob. The sound of music filled my ears. It had some crackling noises to it. It had a beat to it and strange sounding instruments but no lyrics, “Why is there no lyrics and what are those weird sounds? It almost sounds like voices.”

She sighed, “It’s Shostakovich’s Waltz No. 2. Those weird sounds you are hearing are all the different instruments... This is what classical music sounds like, well what it used to sound like, it is dead now. This is probably one of the last few recordings of it in existence.”

“What do you mean dead?”

“No one listens to it anymore... it is considered boring. Most people don’t play those instruments anymore. Why have a person play them when you could have robots make music for you without instruments? Then again no one wants to hear them anyways.”

“It sounds cool to me.”

Her eyes began to drip tears again.

I moved closer to her, “What’s wrong?”

“I saw my instrument at my house when we were there. I play the violin and I was good at it. My mom used to play and passed it to me and my sister. But just like you not being able to read... I couldn’t remember how to play it. What makes it really sad is that I am one of the few people left who know how to play it and me not remembering how to... it’s like a culture is dying.”

I pulled her into a hug, “I know how you feel... I felt the same when I could read my books, not many people still read them anymore... I promise you when we fix this thing, you will remember.”

The song changed.

“Which on it this?”

She smiled and wiped her eyes, “1812 Overture, Tchaikovsky. I feels so nice to finally be able to hear it. All I have is the sheet music and remembering how my mom played it. It sounds so beautiful with all the instruments.”

I smiled too, “I like it. Maybe you can play it for me one day.”

She nodded, “I would like that.”

The sky was getting darker outside which meant we would have to get on the move again. The snow seemed to calm down, meaning it would be easier to drive, but not too fast. Hopefully there won’t be that much trouble with travelling at night.