MNEMOSYNE, Chapter 8
MNEMOSYNE
Chapter 8
A light flashes bright enough to penetrate my closed eyelids. My hand forms a visor over my forehead as I open my eyes to look…
Where am I? Why am I lying here? My back is wet and my arms are itchy, and I notice now that I’m lying on dewy grass. I also notice that I feel incredibly well-rested, more so than any other time these past weeks. I must have slept here all night, but where is here?
I sit up and let my hand down and see a white tower, wide and crystalline, in the middle of the nature preserve. Reflecting sunlight directly at me.
Wait… Something about this feels familiar...
I involuntarily rub a small point of pain on the back of neck, and it reminds me of the homeless man at the Yoga Center last night. How he kept rubbing his neck, and how his neck bled. I need to ask him about that cut on his neck, I need to ask him a lot of things. About the prisoners refusing to leave prison. About how he left prison. Because of the invitation. I need to ask him about that invitation. About that name he kept repeating. About those two letters in my handwriting. About how those letters feel related to someone close to me…
But I was supposed to be confronting someone close to me, wasn’t I?
Why am I in this field? Why are those trees like the ones at my facility? What is that strange building? No, not again. I know all of this. I saw it all just a few moments ago, and I’ve seen it all many more times than that. This damn building, it’s as if being close to it hampers my memory. I should get closer to it and test that theory.
What is that white path rising up from the grass? Why does it fill me with hope and dread at the same time? I shouldn’t be here, that’s why. I shouldn’t walk on that path. I need to be at my facility. I need to take charge of the situation there. I need to root out the traitor. I don’t want to shut down Fit for Life, but there’s no point in delaying it any longer.
As I start to walk away, I notice that I feel afraid. Not of the impending confrontation, but of the possibility that the building might not still be here later on. But that makes no sense. Of course it’ll be here. Am I afraid I’ll forget it? But I’m not forgetting it like everyone else does, especially not now, after all of this practice of being close to it. It takes energy and effort, but I can remember. I won’t become like them, not now. I’ll still believe that it’s here, I’ll still care that it’s here, I’ll still come back to investigate. The memory of it is part of me now, no matter what it tries to do to me, no matter how much I have to struggle to remember.
And, because I know how much I am willing to preserve my memory, I know that I didn’t sign that order for trees. I didn’t sign some strange initials on an invitation. I didn’t cause all of this. Or I would remember. And I don’t—but they do.
They remember. Although... I’m not sure which ones. But someone at my facility right now remembers. Someone forged my handwriting. I need to get to them before they can hide behind what happened last night.
But what time is it? Where is my phone? More importantly, where’s my car?
Forget it. I can jog to the Facility. I needed a jog anyways.
This isn’t so bad, a little burn in the chest, that’s all. And it’s fading. I’m starting to feel invigorated, clear-headed, especially as the distance grows between me and the monolith. Now I’m certain of how to test everyone today. All I need is to focus on the run, on my breathing and my pace.
I see the hills of the Facility. Now I’m standing above it all, looking down at the buildings like a general surveying a field of battle. I feel confident that can save my business and myself, but, first, sacrifices have to be made.
I’ve got this. Today is a victory.
I walk through the entrance of the Welcome Center and see an unfamiliar young woman at the desk. No, that’s not right. I’ve seen her before, on the day of the Yoga Center’s opening. She’s not distracted this time, but she’s still caught off-guard by my arrival.
“I need my top three in the conference room,” I say as I approach the desk. “Now.”
“Mr. Vance?” she asks.
“Tiffany, Jasper, and Regina. Ping them. I’ll be waiting.”
“But the event, Mr. Vance. The kids just arrived.”
“It’s an emergency, young lady,” I say.
I walk to the conference room, down the long white hall to the left. I forgot that the room is orange. Who decided on this color? Regina? It must have been her idea. She has a lot of ideas, doesn’t she?
I think of telling the computer system that we’ll have this room repainted when we reopen, then I realize that it would be better to disable the computer system entirely. At least for now, for this room, for this confrontation...
The doors close, the lights dim, and I sit down. Something is poking me in my thigh. It’s the invitation in my pocket. I’d almost forgotten a crucial piece of evidence, my trump card, so to speak. But it’s here, I’m here, and we’re ready. I already hear them outside. I think it’s all three of them. And they’re whispering. What’s that grinding noise?
The automated door is turned off, isn’t it? They’re getting someone to open the door. Good. Make them work for it.
It doesn’t take long, the door opens, and the three of them are standing there, looking around, as if they can’t see me.
“What the f—” Jasper says. Already caught them off-guard. Good.
Tiffany blurts out part of my name then tries to compose herself. She looks from Jasper to Regina.
“Computer, lights up,” Regina says as she stares at me. “Mr. Vance, why are you sitting here in the dark? Why did you ping us? The children just arrived at the Yoga Center and the press will also arrive, any second.”
“Regina,” I say. “How about you have a seat? All of you, have a seat.”
“This is just great,” Jasper says under his breath. But I catch it. I’m ready for anything.
“First things first,” I say as I stand up to face them and their refusal to sit. “I’m sure the authorities have informed you of the incident last night.” I know they haven’t, of course they haven’t, but I need to find tests like these whenever I can.
“Tiffany told us,” says Jasper.
“Regardless,” I say. “I’ve decided that this crucial breach of security requires decisive action.”
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Vance,” says Regina, her voice calm, her hands clasped together at her waist. “We have security measures in place, and I intend to talk to my adjunct in the government to reinforce those measures if need be.”
“That’s a good idea,” Tiffany says, looking back and forth between the other two, then to me. “Let’s let security handle this, Alex. They’ll make sure the Facility is safe.”
“Safety is merely the tip of the iceberg,” I say, emphasizing my words with measured authority. “There’s something else going on, and we need big changes if we’re going to get to the truth.”
“Alex,” Jasper says, slumped over the table, his forearms and elbows propping himself up. “What are you doing, man?”
I ignore him. I look back to Tiffany. Her green eyes look sad, and that sadness, that concern, combined with her naive words just now, give me confidence that she can be trusted.
“Tiffany, to begin your duties in your new role,” I pause and cross my arms to give special emphasis on how serious I am, not in response to their attempts to interrupt me, “To begin your new role, you are to inform the children that they must leave. In its current state, the Facility is in no shape to accommodate children—or anyone else, for that matter. Additionally, Jasper will need freedom of movement around the Yoga Center as he removes the bonsai trees. Upon completion, he will be tasked with bringing our security up to speed.”
I train my eyes on Regina. She’s simply staring at me, not yet grasping the gravity of the situation.
“Regina, we won’t be needing your help with security. As I said, that will be Jasper’s responsibility. And, seeing as how Tiffany will be taking your place as head of public relations, your services will no longer be needed. In short, Regina, you’re fired.”
Jasper let’s out a groan as he stands up. His hands are on top of his head as he walks towards the door then walks back towards the center of the room, to the side of the conference table. He picks up a water pitcher, sees that it’s empty, then slams it down. I think he’s going to say something, his head is turned over his shoulder, but he puts both hands flat on the conference table and stares downward instead.
“Mr. Vance,” Regina says, a look on her face that’s almost a smirk, belying her concerned demeanor. “Look at yourself. Your clothes are dirty, you haven’t shaved this morning, you’re sweating profusely. Then you’re giving us these ridiculous orders out of nowhere. Forgive me, sir, but how can we take you seriously?”
“Superficial matters can’t distract from the seriousness of my orders, Regina.”
“Alex,” Tiffany says, her voice shaky and small. “What happened?”
They aren’t reacting as I’d hoped, aren’t giving me the signs I was looking for. Tiffany’s eyes look wet. Jasper is still leaning over, his head down. Regina’s arms are folded. All three of them seem resolute in the face of my tests. But I know that one of them is the mole, that one of them has been doing these things to me, trying to trick me. The trees, the bum, the invitation, the secrets surrounding the monolith, their reticence about it and the inmates. The forged signature—wait! That’s it! I’d almost forgotten!
I pull the invitation from my pocket and throw it on the table. It slides down the smooth surface and stops in front of Regina. She’s too calm at the sight of it. Why is she so calm? I just fired her and I just showed her damning evidence and she’s so calm.
No matter. Press her.
“Regina, do you have anything to say about that?” I ask.
“It’s one of the invitations I designed and mailed out,” she says. “Per your request.”
“What about that signature?”
“Who is N H?” she asks, playing dumb. “Is that your handwriting?”
“Very observant. Tiffany? Anything to say? Jasper? Care to tell me what—”
Jasper stands up and the tension seems to have left him. Is he about to reveal the truth?
“I’m sorry,” he says—to them, not to me. “But I quit.”
“Jasper, that’s an overreaction,” Regina says. “This can be handled, I assure you.”
He throws up his hands, then lets them drop just as lazily, indifferently.
“I’m done with it,” he says, his voice a tired drawl. “I can’t watch him fall apart like this. And I can’t watch you take his place, Regina. So I’m done.” He heads towards the door, then turns back towards Tiffany, shaking his head as he says, “Good luck, Tiff.”
The door opens, and Jasper is gone. Why is he gone? What just happened? That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was either with me, or against me, and he’s just vanished instead. It’s Regina’s fault. I lean over the table and stare up at her.
“Look what you’ve done,” I say with finality.
“Mr. Vance,” says Regina. “Alex. You need to calm down.”
“I thought I told you that you’re fired. Why are you still here? Why is he gone but you’re still here?” I stiffen up, my throat tightens. “You’re fired, Regina! Get out!”
“You can’t fire me, Mr. Vance.”
She won’t leave and Jasper hasn’t come back. I look down at the invitation in front of Regina. That handwriting. My handwriting. Thinking about how I couldn’t have signed that invitation reminds me that there’s something else I signed that I couldn’t have signed.
I sit down. I’m too tired—because I almost understand what she just said.
“What do you mean, I can’t fire you?” I ask.
“It was all decided months ago, Mr. Vance,” Regina says. “When you signed your agreement with the government.”
“The trees,” I say.
“Yes, the trees. And the relinquishment of certain administrative powers.”
“What?”
“You asked why you can’t fire me, Mr. Vance. That’s why.”
I look at Tiffany for reassurance that none of this is true, but she’s turned towards the door. I think she might be crying.
“It’s been you this whole time?” I ask Regina.
“I don’t understand your question, Mr. Vance. My role was always clear and in accordance with your request.”
“You’re in charge of public relations.”
“I’m in charge of public interest.”
“The government?”
“Yes. Per your request, I’m here from the government to assist with ensuring the public interest.”
She stands and walks calmly to my side. She sits beside me and clasps her hands together, resting them on the table next to us, forming a little steeple.
“Until this past month, things have been ever-improving, Alex. We’ve had a great collaboration, if I dare say so myself. This past month has been hard, but it’s temporary. Your outburst, the loss of Jasper just now, these other events these past few weeks, they’re all temporary setbacks.”
“No,” I say. “It’s more than temporary. There’s something more to all of this. Something I’m missing.”
“And that’s why I’m here, Alex. To fill in wherever something is missing,” she puts her hands on my hands. “Anyone can go through a rough patch, Alex. We have doctors here and doctors elsewhere who are specialists in episodes such as these. Stress, overwork, addiction. These things can take their toll on anyone, even an accomplished man such as yourself.”
“But I fired you, Regina,” I say as limply as my attempt to remove my hands from hers. “Get out of here.”
“Alex, this is a temporary setback. We’ll get through it as a team,” she sits back, her hands clasped in front of herself again. “But you can’t fire me. You know that.”
“Tiffany, get her out of my sight.”
“Alex—”
“Alex,” Regina interrupts sweet Tiffany. “You believed it best to collaborate with the community. To broaden your impact. You believed that my role as a facilitator and safeguard was crucial. And you signed a contract that you yourself helped write.”
“I don’t remember signing anything.”
“I’ll have the copy delivered to your home tomorrow. And any further evidence you need. But what we need now is for you to get home. To get some rest.”
I look at her eyes. They’re too sincere. Too concerned. She’s always too. Too. Everything about her is too. Tiffany is crying, and this woman is too of everything. Two of everything. Public relations. Public interest.
“Tiffany,” Regina says, her head turned away from me dismissively. “Have the doctor come in.”
Tiffany wipes her eyes and walks out of the room. It’s just me and Regina. She’s very nice for a mole. Very accommodating. Then again, maybe she’s not the mole. Why would I have hired a mole? Then again, why would I hire a government stooge? And Jasper… he’s really gone, isn’t he? Where did Tiffany just go? A doctor? What is happening? How has this all gone so wrong? How am I waiting on some doctor, looking at some government mole, losing everything, bit by bit?
“The monolith,” I say.
“What?”
“Tell me what you know about it and don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Mr. V—Alex. What monolith? What does that mean?”
“You know.”
“Monolith,” she says, struggling to keep eye contact. “The tower you kept mentioning that night? I thought you were over that.”
“It was never over with. And you never thought that.”
“Alex, sit down,” she says, her voice shaky in the face of the real issue. “Let’s wait for the doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor for you to tell me what you know, Regina. I know you know. And what of that man last night? What do you know about him? Where is he? Are you hiding him from me like you hide the truth of the monolith?”
“Alex, sit down, please. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My neck is killing me. I rub on it, then force myself to stop. I have to confront her further.
“What did you do with him?” I ask.
“Alex, I have nothing to do with that part of the government. That’s up to the police, not—“
“The police, shes says! With their lies about inmates on top of lies about the monolith!” I laugh, a small, painful laugh, then I straighten myself. “Stop stalling, Regina. Tell me. Tell me what you know. Who sent you here? You’ve been found out, so tell me. You thought you could hide. You can’t. So tell me. What is that building? Why is it there? What is it doing to me?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Alex. I don’t understand, I really don’t, please back up.”
I scream that she knows, that of course she knows, that everyone knows—
Then I feel in my hands and my arms just how heavy the table is. Then I hear how loud the table is. It’s toppled over, I think. Now all I see is black...
Why am I outside?
How did I get in the front of the Welcome Center? There are lot of people out here for some reason. Tiffany breaks through the crowd, comes toward me. Like in my dream last night while I meditated. Or was that me coming towards me or—
“Alex, where are you going?” her voice is rushed, manic; I’ve never heard her sound like this before, not even last night. “You wrecked the conference room. You need help and you need rest. The doctor is here to help, I got him for you. Or we can find you a different one. But you need to just calm down and we’ll find someone. Okay? Right?”
Her small hands are holding the sides of my shoulders. I can’t tell if she’s trying to hold me up or hold herself up.
“Is Regina okay?” I ask, but I don’t know why.
“Yes, she’s fine,” she says. Her left hand moves to the side of my face. “Everyone is okay but you. But you’re going to be okay, alright? I promised you we’d figure this out. Together. Remember? We can figure out that stupid building and all of the rest of it. We just need a little help. A doctor’s help.”
A doctor’s help. With figuring out a building. That makes no sense. Did Tiffany even go to college? I can’t remember. I don’t think you need a degree for yoga, so she probably doesn’t have a degree… but she does have such beautiful green eyes…
Like the color of leaves and grass at night in the glow of a giant tower of quartz...
I close my eyes to remember the tower more clearly, but I feel Tiffany’s hand moving towards the back of my neck, pulling my head down. Then, right as her lips meet my forehead, she touches the spot on the back of my neck.
It burns like fire.
I jerk free of her. As I run away, I worry that she may have felt what’s back there. I hope she didn’t.
I have. I do. And I don’t like it.
I run and run. Now I’m looking at the monolith as cars rush past me. The cars occasionally obscure my view, sometimes honk, one even stops, but I ignore them. I watch the monolith, the strangely bright monolith, its whiteness unchanged by the clear sky and the sun. I watch it even when my eyes begin to hurt. Even when they begin to water. I watch it until I can’t run and look at the same time. Because, although I can tell it wants me to visit, it’s been a long day. I need to go home.
I keep running until I slam my front door behind me and tell the house to go into do-not-disturb mode. I’ve been disturbed enough for today.
Disturbed enough. Do-not-disturb mode.
Funny.
I begin to shake, I nearly double over from it, from the shaking, not from everything that just happened, not from the lack of answers, not from the monolith’s reign over my life, no, that’s not it.
I’m just laughing.
