The Persistence of Memory | ✔

21

The world seemed to quiet while Nina tried to process what she'd just heard. Words swam through her mind, echoing over and over again.

Implanting memories, Nina thought, and felt her mouth go dry. She'd known Alice's memories had been implanted in her head, but Nina had suspected it had been through someone else's doing. Or more like, she'd hoped that had been the case. More than anything, Nina had hoped that it had been someone else who was responsible for nearly driving her mad.

But she was afraid Fearnley's memories had been tampered with while she was gone. It made sense. Nina had expected for her patient to be different upon her return. Alice had been relieved when that wasn't the case. Someone else implanted memories into Fearnley.

Nina thought of the daughter the man thought he had and knew Alice couldn't have done that. Just like she couldn't have been the one to place memories of a childhood friend Nina had never known inside of Nina's mind.

Mrs. Cassill was looking at Nina with a curious expression. There was concern there, and Nina knew she needed to snap out of it and get on with her questions.

"Memory implants, that's interesting. I've read about them, seems like they're set to be used to treat psychological issues. Once the FDA approves them, of course." Nina remembered that, and she also remembered Ben commenting on protests against the use of implanted memories in therapy. By the way Mrs. Cassill shifted in her seat, she knew about the opposition to the idea as well.

"Yes, that's what they're meant to be used for, but to be honest," she paused, hesitating as she stared down at the cup in her hands. "Well, Alice wasn't very fond of the idea."

"Did she have other uses in mind?" Mrs. Cassil shook her head.

"No, she just didn't like the idea of tampering with others' memories. Alice—her work—was all about restoring people's minds, their memories. It's why she was so interested in hippocampal implants. As far as implanting false memories, well, I don't think she was comfortable with the idea, to be honest."

"Is that what she said during her visit?" Nina asked, her own mind whirring at the new information.

"She didn't, but she wasn't here for long. And there was this sense I got while she was here, like she was nervous about something." The woman frowned, her eyes taking on a look as if she were stuck in her own memories. Thoughts of her daughter and what might have been on her mind the last time they spoke. "I tried to ask her what was bothering her, but she would just say she was tired. Work had been keeping her busy. I didn't pry after that. Now I think I should have. Maybe then. . ." she trailed off, and Nina could see the pain the woman must have felt at that moment.

"Well, what's done is done," she said, with a finality that told Nina she didn't want to think about what could have happened if she'd intervened. The possibility that her daughter's death lay—in part—on her shoulders was too heavy a burden for her to carry at the moment. Nina wished she could have told her it wasn't her fault. That Alice had known something was wrong all along.

"If Alice wasn't fond of the idea of implanting memories, then do you know why she ended up taking on the project?" Nina asked, deciding it would be best to change the subject. Already Mrs. Cassill's hands were beginning to shake with the effort of keeping her emotions in check.

"I'm not really sure. Like I said, she didn't talk much about that particular project while she was here, and before that she'd been working on neuroprosthetics. It might have been because of her experience working with memories, but I'm not sure. To be honest, she might just have been pressured into it."

"Is that something that happened often?" Mrs. Cassill shook her head at the question.

"Not as far as I know, but Alice was always good at what she did. From what I've found out about the project, they wanted the best for the job. That was Alice." The woman was smiling, a sad little twist of the lips that was charged with pride and what could only be love for her daughter.