Delete All

I don't have to do this, I tell myself. I don't have to go through with it. But I do. There it goes again, the song that never leaves my head. Not the casual background noises that I've grown so accustomed to, but the music that interrupts thoughts and distracts senses. I've thought through this many times before, but now that I'm actually here, the courage that drove me to be sure has withered like most plant life on the surface. Stupid war. The monitor beeps again.
Are you sure you want to delete 'Memories'?

'Memories' isn't just a folder with pictures of good times, it's how I remember anything and everything. That's what happens when you get caught in a crossfire and the government has to protect you. Except I don't think they knew how badly it would act as a substitute memory, or how differently it would act to the part of my brain I lost.

A muffled voice finds its way into my head. Not this again. It's a memory of before, probably sparked from conflict. My mother, shouting. She's acting worried, but I know she doesn't care. We've never been close since the split. I notice the headache again. I need to delete something at least, or the pain will render me useless to save the Earth I pledged to protect. So, delete all? Would I still have the instinct to keep my home alive? I'd still have everything my brain knows, but I don't know how much that would be, if it would be enough. A man shouts behind me, "It's not enough, it's not enough!" Just a memory of a song, but still enough to rattle me. My thoughts never leave me. Maybe I should delete everything, and remove the flash card permanently. Better a broken person than a malfunctioning one. Then I wouldn't have to rely on the computer at all.

"Would you like some tea?" says a voice to my right. I turn to see a small girl, a memory that I've tried to block out. I thought I had succeeded. She's nice, but unimportant. I don't need her, and if I were normal she would only be a shadow of a person by now, but I can still make out her multiple hair clips, the plastic necklaces stacked atop another.

"You're boring" I say to her. She nods and smiles, running back to her mother running the café that she's been taken into today. I said yes once, long ago.

I turn back to the screen, sighing before clicking 'no'. I'll come back to it later. I have to get out of this room. Food isn't required as of this moment, so I'll water the plants instead. I try to breathe in the silence of the green beings saved to bring back to the surface when it's safe. Of course, that barely lasts until another intrusive song worms into my consciousness, disregarding the constant background noise that never leaves my brain. So many days in silence and still I can't clear my head. It has a peaceful atmosphere in here; I'd almost relax if not for the memories on repeat. I study my companions, quietly living. Vibrant viridians, deep emeralds, the odd chartreuse. They're all so lush and vital, happy just existing.  I wonder what that would be like, nothing to interrupt.

Gunfire in the distance. My cheeks are wet and my lungs hurt. I'm screaming at my mother. "Why did you do this? I hate you. I hate you all!" I was so angry. Now it just hurts my head. So much emotion and sensory input. That memory would be useful to delete, if I could work out how to do it easily. But I have to do all or nothing. No in-between.

I close the glass door, feeling a little calmer from the plants. It's not much, but it helps having even some break from the constant memories getting in the way of everything I try to do. I wonder if my memory chip is breaking, considering the splitting headache I wouldn't doubt it. I start walking somewhere while I let my mind flow. I'm here to help keep my home alive after the war ends, when that is is anyone's guess. I could easily fill myself in on what I need to know with a video. Although if I forget any important information I'll be screwed, so that doesn't sound like the best option.

A crackly man follows me. He's trying to explain how to get my memory chip to work, and how to back it up to the computer. This was before I had my small computer plugged into me all the time, so the memory is corrupted. It's the most normal one I have, because it's in some ways similar to how my brain worked. Bits of it are forgotten, and it's not perfectly formed.
"Go away," I say "you're no help"
He tries again to explain it, but his voice fades and I only catch snippets.
"Leave, I don't want you here" I tell him, my tone more serious now. He apologised and turns, fading away as he walks off. Sometimes my memories do that, if I've imagined them acting differently enough times. They help with not seeing anyone else. They disperse the occasional loneliness, which is funny because the memories of people are the reasons why I isolated myself in the first place. Well, what can you do?