By Angell Stevenson
Chapter 1
Los Angeles, CA – October 4, 2028.
Without a care in the world, Julie enjoys the vistas of the ocean from the rear seat in a sporty sedan. Pushing a button, the seat reclines, affording her a better view from the larger rear window. Relaxing against the buttery soft leather seats, she continues to visually follow the vapor trail of a multi-passenger space launch in the distance. She smiles as its expanding plume begins to take the shape of a large sperm whale swimming its way across the evening sky. The airship’s en route to circle the earth three times. Recent breakthroughs in rocket propulsion have brought the cost in line with other earth bound flights. The trip has become an exotic amusement park ride billed to duplicate John Glenn’s initial space voyage in ‘62.
Photo courtesy of Josh Burton Films
The two-lane road on which she’s traveling is in gross disrepair. Between the ruts and challenging turns, the car remains at a low speed. The road is precariously perched on a mountainside offering an impressive view. The small shoulder raises her anxiety each time her vehicle rounds a corner, hoping, but not certain, two cars can actually pass.
“Hey, do me a favor,” she calls out to the driver. “Keep it tight to the right side of the lane… Ok?”
Getting no response, she leans forward and is shocked to see there was no driver.
“What the…” she blurted.
Hummmm, Hummmm, Hummmm.
A loud oscillating sound takes Julie by surprise. It’s unlike any roadway signal she’s ever heard. Rounding a corner, she observes what must be a crossing of some type. She decides the noise must be a warning that a train is near. Perhaps, some research study found it better at capturing someone’s attention.
“Well, it worked for me,” she mused and shook her head.
The car slows to a crawl.
“How’s it doing that?” she marveled.
Hummmmmm, Hummmmmm.
The sound grows in intensity.
She’s surprised the gate has not yet gone down to block the road. The car comes to a stop nonetheless. Julie finds herself admiring the car’s cautious approach.
“Nice, no need to take chances,” Julie utters while casting her gaze to the front seat – cautiously hoping for a response that never came.
“Who are you talking to?” she said aloud as she raised both arms, palms up and spread widely.
Christ, let’s get a grip, Julie silently admonished herself.
Craning her head to the right in an effort to see down the track, Julie finds no train in sight.
A new realization takes hold. Where would the train go? The tracks stop at the cliff to her left.
Hummmmmmmm, Hummmmmmmm.
Julie wakes. She reaches out to the bedside table and impulsively strikes the top of the offending clock. The room is quiet. Light is streaming in from a gap in the curtains that fill the entire wall.
Glancing about, she fails to recognize her surroundings. Dulled from sleep, she rubs her face and then stretches her arms and legs. Throwing off her covers, she swings her feet to the floor.
She curls her toes, enjoying the feeling of a plush, soft carpet.
“Where am I,” she mumbles as she stands.
Motivated by an urge to pee, she walks through an open doorway to her right. A motion sensor is triggered. The bathroom is flooded with a bright light. Taken by surprise, her hands fly to her face, shielding her eyes.
After recovering from the visual assault, she removes her hands and is immediately confronted with what appears to be a 3D image floating in the mirror. Julie is overtaken by a sense of utter confusion on viewing the message. Three words on two lines come into focus… it’s an instruction.
Say “play now”
Julie shakes her head and rubs her eyes. The message is still there, floating in the mirror.
Unable to resist, she follows the command and speaks, “Play now.”
She jumps in a startled reaction as the mirror transitions to a high-definition video display. She sees herself sitting at some type of table. The room is filled with a familiar voice delivered through speakers in the ceiling. It’s definitely her, but oddly she has no memory of having made the video.
“Good morning Julie. Today, is Thursday, October 4th, 2028. It’s imperative you listen carefully to this entire message. I made this recording last night. Just like I do every night.
About a year ago we started using a daily recording to orient us each morning and importantly, remind us what we need to do to start our day. Christ…I can only imagine what it was like before we started using the recording.
Jesus…this is my third take…I can’t decide what to call you…me…whatever…”
The speaker took a deep breath and shook her head prior to continuing.
“Two years ago, you suffered a concussion from a blow to the head. You were attacked from behind. Someone struck you in an apparent robbery and left you unconscious on the sidewalk.”
Julie absentmindedly reaches up and runs her hand across the back of her head. Her fingers find nothing of interest.
“They never learned who did it. A stranger found you passed out and brought you to Good Samaritan Hospital. You were in a coma for three days. When you woke, you had amnesia.
Listen carefully, Julie. Every time you fall asleep you lose all memory of what happened during the prior day. It will happen again today when you fall asleep.
I know this will be hard to absorb. Believe me it was hard for me this morning when I heard our voice on the recording tell me this same story. Some way to start your day, eh?”
The speaker paused…she reaches for a glass of colored liquid and takes a long drink. Placing the glass on the counter, she returns her view to the camera.
“Your neurologist determined two things must have happened. Seems the blow erased our memory. Some things are still there… but, the majority of our past life is gone. Simply gone… poof, but, more bizarre is we lost the ability to store new stuff in our long-term memory. It’s like something erases all the new data on our brain’s hard drive every time we fall asleep.
Apparently, I’ve learned to use this analogy because for some reason we remember everything about computers. And I mean everything. We are one of the world’s premier computer analysts. But, hey, I’ll get to more about that in a minute.
Some new memories will likely come back to you today. Frankly, it was hard today for me to separate what was a real memory from the past, versus a random thought.”
The speaker looked up from the script and directly into the camera.
“Good luck with that…”
The speaker returned her gaze to the script in her hand.
“Yeah, well, Julie, you need to make this recording tonight before you go to sleep. You’ll find the equipment on the counter in the kitchen. It’s simple to operate, just tell it what you want to do. It responds to voice prompts using an algorithm you… we developed.”
The figure in the video points at the camera and says with emphasis.
“Don’t forget to make a recording tonight before you fall asleep.
Seems we learned the image on the bathroom display is the most reliable way to get us to play the recording each morning. It worked for me.
Oh, yeah, you’ll find similar images on the fridge in the kitchen and on the inside of the front door. Apparently, they’re back-ups.”
The speaker chuckles softly.
“They tell you to go to your bathroom to say play for now, but we’re working on networking the display so it starts automatically when you wake in the morning. We have a prototype that you’ll see in the office today. The team is still working out a few glitches before it can be installed. Keri’s your go-to on that one. She’s an incredibly talented programmer.”
The speaker leans forward and adopts a more serious tone.
“Julie, your best friend is Sarah Gentry. You were roommates in college. She’s a good person; you can trust her. Sarah will be calling you soon. She calls you twice every day. Once in the morning to see how you are doing and once at night to make sure you made your recording. The recording was her idea by the way.
Ok, enough said, let’s get going. You have an important team meeting at your office at 10 o’clock this morning. Last night you arranged for a car to pick you up… It’s kind of like a taxi, but you don’t have to give them money. The route is predefined and the ride is charged automatically to your account. Oh, yeah…”
The speaker laughs.
“There’s not going to be a driver. How ‘bout that… Our company is leading the way in AI development – that’s artificial intelligence. Wait ‘till you get to your office. It’ll blow you away. The car’s coordinated through the tattoo on your wrist.”
The speaker holds up her right wrist displaying the tattoo.
Julie glances down at her own wrist. She rubs the tattoo, which has a complex pattern occupying a two inch square. It feels like ordinary skin.
“It’s a code that links you to a file in a massive database. We were the brain child behind that too… Frankly, everything in your life is managed through that tattoo.
What else… ah, yes… There’ll be more reminders at your office. And hey, some good news, you’re the CEO of the company. The place is totally awesome.
Anyway, hopefully, you woke to the alarm I set last night and have plenty of time, but you better get ready.
Oh! I almost forgot. David is an asshole. Don’t believe anything he says. He’ll be at your morning meeting.
Julie, this is where I’m supposed to remind you again to make your recording tonight and offer some helpful tips.”
The speaker holds up a sheet of paper.
“You’ll find this script on your kitchen table. Seems it’s best to include the same intro, because the neurologist thinks it’s helpful to hear the same thing over and over… like maybe it’ll eventually sink in… or something like that anyway. But, don’t forget to mention anything unique… uh, you know… things you learn today that will help get you started tomorrow morning.”
The speaker pauses and looks down at the table before continuing.
“Ok. I guess that’s enough… for now anyway.
Enjoy your day, Julie. Welcome to your new life.
Stop recording.”
The display vanishes; the mirror returns. Overwhelmed by the video, Julie shudders. Confronted by her face in the mirror, she recognizes the look of fear.
“Jeez, can this be true?” she questions.
Trying to fight down the mounting anxiety, she fumbles at the faucet in an effort to run the cold water. Cupping her hands beneath its flow, she repeatedly splashes her face, hoping to waken herself from her nightmare, but no such luck. She grips the counter’s edge, realizing that she’s on the verge of losing it.
Her panic is interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Seeking the source of the sound, Julie returns to the bedroom. She sees a phone flashing in a charging cradle on the bedside table. Responding to a primal urge, she leaps across the bed and grabs it.
“Hello,” she cries out frantically, “hello.”
“Julie, its ok. It’s Sarah.”
The chapter shown above is an excerpt from Say Play Now by Angell Stevenson.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Angell Stevenson.
All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from Angell Stevenson, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact us via this website.
