Marionette

Chapter 1

When I opened my eyes, I could no longer remember anything.

Where was I? What happened to me? Who was I anyway?

Slightly dazed, I checked my surroundings. I was among hundreds of others, all dressed in black tunics. The ones near me were as confused as I was. I looked down and noticed that I was also wearing the same tunic.

We were on a green field, and the sun shone brightly above our heads.

"Hey, who are you guys?" asked a man near me, "W-who am I?! What the hell is going on?"

My ears were ringing.

I closed my eyes again and concentrated harder, trying to remember what had happened to me, but nothing. I had no idea how I ended up among all these people.

My mind was blank on that.

Instead, other images started flooding my brain. My memories.

If this was amnesia, it wasn't as bad as I initially feared. I could still recall the basics of who I was.

I am Marco.

I could not remember my last name, though.

Nevertheless, I knew I was an Italian twenty-two-year-old university student. Furthermore, I lived in Rome.

I could not remember anything more specific about myself, though.

If I could recall my loved ones, I would be able to remember something else about myself.

I tried to picture my parents and siblings if I had any.

My memories of them were vague, but that was not the strangest thing, as I could see their bodies, but their faces were pixelated, and their voices were muffled.

Memories of a woman always being by my side swarmed my already exhausted mind. She had been there when I was happy, sad, sick; you get it. That was definitely my mother, but I could not see her face for the life of me. Nor could I hear her voice. Those damn pixels hid it well; her voice in those memories was just electronic-sounding nonsense.

What was her name again? I had no clue.

The same thing happened with a man and a little girl I remembered being around a lot. My father and younger sister, probably.

Well, that did not work as well as I had hoped, so I tried to picture any friends I had.

Same thing. I recalled hanging around with people since primary school, but their names, voices and faces were a mystery.

"Where are we? Wh-why can't I remember a thing?!" another guy from our 'lovely' tunic-wearing group yelled.

Good question.

More people complained about the same thing.

Honestly, I felt relieved that I wasn't the only one having this problem.

People around me started chattering, trying to find an explanation for all this.

Within seconds, I heard the following gems, "Aliens abducted us!" and "The secret society that controls the world is behind all this! We know too much!"

"Jesus..." I murmured.

Jesus? Wait a moment. His face was not pixelated in my memories. He was there, beard, long hair and everything.

This was bizarre, but it gave me an idea.

Could I remember the faces of people I did not know personally?