Chapter 2 (new)

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Trigger warning: This chapter briefly mentions a sexual assault that another character witnessed. No specific details are given.

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In her small procedure room, Solara inspected the black cap in her hand, ensuring the recording chips and infrared light emitters were secure on its soft material. It still amazed her that something as simple as shooting light into the brain, scattering the particles, and recording the signal allowed her to capture the human experience. She fastened the knit memory cap on her patient's balding head, careful to avoid the bruises and fresh cuts on his forehead and around his eye.

"Did you hear about the crew at the docks?" Mr. Benito asked through a cracked lip.

Even though most of the crew were former schoolmates of Solara's, they rarely crossed paths anymore once Mem-Stem had recruited them as full-time creators. Messita was the only exception.

"Another scandalous romance?" Solara chuckled as she picked up her tablet to monitor his vitals.

Sometimes the company would leak the Lowers clips of the memories they sold to the Uppers for more dozis than a Lower could ever dream of. Snippets of an adrenaline-filled adventure to lure more active and attractive teens and young adults into this shady business. Not that Solara was shady.

In the beginning, she intended to help the blind see their first sunset, the paralyzed to experience running a marathon, and the elderly to feel the joy of youth again. Yet these days, she was a puppet to the sadistic whims of the Upper consumer base, feeding their need for memories of sex and violence.

She failed to understand how virtual experiences of that nature helped the Uppers balance their lives in the fight against the Ferron, an enemy the Uppers had protected their societies from for centuries. At least that was what the Lower teachers had taught them in school.

She couldn't believe the Uppers' claims that violence was to expose them to fighting techniques and sex was to fuel their desire to procreate. The Uppers had made enough technological advances with memory capturing that Solara imagined they would rely on more advanced weapons than brute strength. Plus, the Uppers deemed themselves superior to the Lowers in every respect, so it was odd that they would want to learn from them.

Her dream of helping her people in an innovative way, much like the memories she sold, had been fabricated.

Her grip tightened on the device as she noted Mr. Benito's usual elevated heart rate.

"The Zaridi girl died," he said.

Solara's hands shook, and a loud crash drew her eyes to her tablet, now lying on the dark floor tiles.

Her voice trembled. "Messita Zaridi?"

Solara couldn't have heard that right. Her friend was twenty-seven years old and such a natural on the water.

Mr. Benito nodded. "There was an accident on the river."

Solara shook her head as she bent down to pick up the tablet with shaky hands.

He had to have misheard. Messita was so confident and calculated in her risks. Just last month, she'd sat downstairs in the restaurant with Solara, sharing creative ways to make more dozi to help her brother with the family farm debt.

"Are they sure she won't recover?"

"My wife's friend's daughter was there. It was..." Lines burrowed into his forehead. "There's no coming back from it."

Solara's throat choked up, and the sensation travelled up to her eyes.

Last month couldn't have been the final time they'd ever speak again. Messita had so much she wanted to do. She'd already been through hell as a teen. She didn't survive it just to perish all so Uppers could watch her memories.

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