The Second Sphere

“We’re here, sir,” the transport system said. My eyes opened. I blinked a few times and tried to place where I was. My head pounded. Through the window of the transport I saw the entrance to my building lit up brightly, looking like a shabby Christmas tree. Registering thanks wasn’t possible at the moment, so I opened the door and got out. Hated to be rude, but the weight of the night held my tongue. I took a deep breath as I stumbled inside.

“Hello, Mr. Cox,” Oswald greeted me. A programmer could do great things for his mood reading.

In the elevator, all I could think about was Love; anything to get me away from the moment. I felt the memories on top of me and it was all I could do to keep them away. Everything inside felt like jelly. Pain shot through my stomach.

The clock changed from 3:54 am to 3:55 am as I went into my apartment. Not that time mattered; all that mattered was a fix. I staggered forward and pulled the drive from my pocket. The desire was strong, but I held it at a distance, let the hunger seep down.

Then, the drive was at my neck. Dose after dose jumped to my chip. The wave came quickly, knocking me over, pulling me out to sea. Then, I floated. I drifted into silence. Dark nothingness surrounded me. The soundlessness took me deep inside. That’s where the real memories were, the place where I could watch from a safe distance without worrying that they would get me. The images from Newberry’s apartment flooded back, then cracked apart. Little spider webs of memory covered my chip.

They danced in front of me, each scene individually wrapped in a thin membrane. Before I could watch them running together, I needed to see each one. I plodded over every moment, tried to find new angles from which to observe them. But I didn’t find anything of note.

I decided to see whether they made more sense together than they did apart.

The events of the night moved, rewound, and played all over again. I watched over and over. The more I watched, the less I understood what happened. None of it made sense. None of it was logical. We were at the right place at the right time to see this terror unfold. The entire night was well planned, down to the second. That meant someone watched me.

I drifted away from Newberry’s apartment, back into the darkness. A thought appeared in my head, as clear as though it stood before me. I felt panic rise in my chest, and suddenly I drew back into myself. Feeling the buzz of the Love in my ears, I got up, went into my room, and got the link-up on. I knew what I would find.

Before I played the single message, I knew who it would be and knew what I would get. But worse, I knew that I deserved the lashing. It wasn’t the first time my memory failed, and I was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be the last.

“Dad,” she said. I could barely see her face for all of the Love interference, but I imagined that the exasperation wasn’t just in her voice. “What the hell is going on? You disappeared from the Source the other day. I tried to find you today, but you’re not there. I’m not sure what’s happening. Do you still want to come? We’ve got a lead on a reasonable ticket. Just get in touch with me and we can go ahead and buy it. I’ll check for you at the Source again.”

There was no goodbye.

Out in the living room, I did another dose, hoping that the thoughts of my daughter’s disappointment would fade away. But they wouldn’t; they just became brighter and brighter in the light of the drug.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, feeling the return of Lila into my system. No matter how hard I tried to explain away what I did, I knew the truth. I didn’t want to see myself. All of the silence I created, all of the things that were left unsaid, I thought they meant nothing, that this was the way things were supposed to be.

For a moment I couldn’t see anything but Lila on the day of her mother’s funeral; the tears on her cheeks, her hands shaking, wanting someone to be there, wanting me to be there. But I wasn’t. I was in my own plane of existence, hating myself for leaving my wife behind in the mortal world.

My eyes clouded with tears. I let them run down my cheeks. But then they stopped as though a faucet were turned off. When I could see again, I saw the Love drive in front of me, felt it draw me in.

I was an empty vessel. I touched the side of my neck. That’s all there was to me—memories on a chip. I leaned forward and took another dose of the drug, feeling a jolt of electricity slide from my nasal passage through my head. The pain subsided, washed away as the Love dispersed.

The tears came again. They took hold and wouldn’t let me go, pulled everything that was hidden away and put it all on the table. I felt everything at the moment, the whole wicked cruel universe; my daughter; my wife; my grandson. They were in one emotion, together, balled up, reeling and punching at me. All I could do was absorb the blows. I hadn’t the strength or the will to fight them.

I floated back into the darkness. The scenes at Newberry’s apartment replayed in a slow, warped motion. I dissected them, tore through them, thought about decisions that went with each moment. Vicious. That was the only word that came to mind. It flashed over and over like a neon sign. Those teeth. The blood. The smell.

After a while, I returned to the present of my cold, dark apartment. There was no way that I could continue to let myself think about this all night. I had to go away. I did three more doses of Love to take away all feeling. I floated to a bright land where everything was right, away from that apartment, from the world I knew and the memories I’d created, and went to the place I wanted to be: numbness.

Finally, just past 6 am, I was at peace.