Home Genre drama Sow salt, reap rot, hunt alone

Part 7, The Rest is Just Blood and Poetry: Memories

Sow salt, reap rot, hunt alone Morvram 3412Words 2024-03-25 15:58

  "It is said by some that humans are nothing more than the sums of their memories. That our very being, our `souls` if you will, is contained wholly within the memories we carry with us. I do not agree with this interpretation; I find it far too reductive. But should we accept it, what is the implication for the inherited memories we carry? It is already obvious that the memories influence us, yes, but what if they might develop their own will? There is not a single recorded instance of this happening, but then - can we be sure that we would know if it had occurred?"

  -From Ahbrim Pallacce`s treatise "Inherited Memories"

  244 YT, Spring: Amire`s home and office, Kivv

   Amire scanned through the book, finger flitting along the page. Several other books lay open on the desk, pieces of spare paper shoved among their pages. Yet still he was at a loss. The phenomenon described here could not occur, that was what every book said. Even Pallacce: "There is not a single recorded instance of this happening." Not a single recorded instance! How, then?

   How could a memory, an echo, have its own will?

   "Inherited Memories" lay half-open on the desk next to him as he pondered, staring at the wall, trying to keep his focus. Every passage which described this phenomenon, across half a dozen texts, described it as a phenomenon which could not occur. Or, at least, it was considered extremely unlikely, to the point where no known instance was recorded. Amire had seen interactions between memories - as observed with Aleks, Hilda, and Kamila Zelenko. He`d seen stranger things than that, even.The author`s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

   He stood up, muttering under his breath. "But if what Aleks said is true, then she`s a danger to everyone around her&" He picked a pencil from his desk and, as he walked, tapped it against his leg. "What could she do, though? Kamila is still& herself, of course."

   Frustrated, he threw his hands in the air. "I mean& imagine that you`re aware, but you`re stuck in someone else`s mind. What would you even be able to do! She might have a will of her own, but she`s not in control."

   He came to a stop in front of the window. Outside, the camp beyond the cliff was growing more densely populated by the day. Amire had scarcely paid it any mind but the last time he`d looked out the window there had been only a few people among those prefabricated buildings. And now there were what looked like hundreds. So crowded, packed together in that little space&

   He leaned against the window and sighed. "She`s not in control. There`s no record of inherited memories overriding the host mind. Abrahmson spoke of different levels of interference but that came down to the psychology of the dominant personality, nothing to do with the memory&"

   The psychology of the dominant personality.

   Kamila Zelenko was not particularly receptive to speaking to a man like Amire, but she had been to his office a couple of times. Amire had the opportunity to observe her only a little, but one thing had become very clear to him in that time:

   Kamila Zelenko was a deeply unstable individual.

   And so& what easy prey might she make for a monster in her head, even if it`s of her own creation&?

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