The Memory Broker

Chapter one: Who Am I?

Riva stood in her sleek, glass-walled office, staring at the holographic display floating in front of her. A steady stream of memories—bright, vivid, and personal—flickered like digital ghosts. She was used to this. Every day, hundreds of people came to her, desperate to sell their most precious moments for a price. Some needed the money, others just wanted to forget.

But today was different.

The client sitting across from her was a man in his late forties, with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor. He had introduced himself simply as Kellan. There was something unsettling about him, not just in the way he seemed too still, too composed, but in the request he had made moments ago.

"I need you to find a memory," Kellan said, his voice low but firm.

"That's what I do," Riva replied. "I specialize in locating memories—specific experiences, emotions, whatever you want. What's the memory you're looking for?"

"It doesn't exist yet."

Riva blinked. "You want me to... create a memory for you?"

Kellan shook his head. "No. I want you to find it. It exists somewhere, but it's been erased from every mind that held it."

Riva frowned. "Erased memories aren't something I deal with. That's closer to neural surgery or forensic memory reconstruction. I'm a broker, not a scientist."

"You misunderstand," Kellan said, leaning forward. "This memory wasn't erased by natural means. It's a deliberate cover-up. It's something that was taken from me and many others, and I want it back."

Riva's curiosity was piqued. In a world where memories could be bought and sold, the idea that someone could remove them entirely—so thoroughly that they ceased to exist even in the vast data streams—was chilling. Memory manipulation was strictly regulated, but she knew well enough that regulations could be bent, even broken.

"Let's say I believe you," she said slowly. "What is this memory you're trying to recover?"

Kellan hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of his chair. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "I only have fragments. But I know it's important. The last thing I recall is standing on a rooftop, looking at something—someone—and then, nothing. It's just... gone."

Riva studied him. He seemed sincere, but it was impossible to tell whether he was delusional or whether there was something far darker at play. Either way, she had to find out.

"Alright," she said. "I'll help. But you'll need to be patient. Something like this isn't easy to track down."

Kellan stood, his expression unreadable. "I trust you'll find a way."

For the next few days, Riva combed through her usual channels—memory sellers, brokers like herself, underground networks where even illegal memories were traded. But none of them knew anything about an erased memory. Everyone seemed to think she was chasing a ghost.

Until she received an encrypted message. No sender, no traceable origin. Just a set of coordinates.

It led her to an abandoned sector of the city, one long since forgotten by the public. Here, the neon lights and bustling crowds gave way to crumbling buildings and silence. Riva pulled her coat tighter around her as she approached the designated location—a decrepit warehouse, its doors rusted and hanging on broken hinges.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. In the center of the room stood a single figure, cloaked in shadows. As Riva stepped closer, she recognized the person—a memory forger she had encountered years ago, a man known only as Sero.

"You shouldn't be here," Sero said, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his face.

"Why?" Riva asked, stepping forward. "Because you've been erasing memories?"

Sero stiffened. "Not erasing. Hiding. Protecting."

Riva narrowed her eyes. "From what?"

Sero hesitated, then sighed. "There's something bigger than you and me at play here. Governments, corporations—powerful entities that don't want certain things remembered. They pay people like me to bury them so deep that even the person who lived it can't recall."

"So you are involved," Riva said. "Why? What are they hiding?"

Sero glanced around nervously. "It's not just a single memory, Riva. It's a series of events, a whole history being rewritten. They're controlling what people know, what they believe. And the memory you're looking for—it's a key. To something dangerous."

Riva felt a cold chill run down her spine. "Kellan... he's one of the victims, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sero said quietly. "But if he finds the truth, it could unravel everything. And that's why they'll stop at nothing to keep it buried."

The more Riva learned, the more she realized how deep the conspiracy ran. Kellan wasn't the only one missing pieces of his life. Thousands—maybe millions—of people had been affected, their memories subtly altered to shape the reality they believed in.

And the memory Kellan sought was indeed the key to it all. A moment that revealed a devastating truth about the world, about those in power.

But when Riva finally found the fragment of the erased memory, she was faced with an impossible choice: deliver it to Kellan, exposing the lie and risking chaos, or destroy it, allowing the illusion of order to remain.

In the end, she stood on a rooftop, just as Kellan had described in his fragmented recollection, staring at the horizon. The memory chip in her hand hummed softly, containing the truth within it.

For a brief moment, Riva hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, she made her decision.

Some memories, she realized, were too dangerous to exist.

With a final flick of her wrist, she crushed the chip, and the memory was lost forever.