What is it that makes people love another person? What mechanism feeds these feelings?

I wish I could figure it out. I wish I could tap into it, understand it, and steal it the way I steal memories. All of my memories can’t explain what is going on. They don’t explain why no one seemed to listen to the speech I just gave. They don’t explain the press conference that was only half full. The half-hearted polite clapping I can hear like drizzling rain in a morning fog.

Patrick’s dejected and tired stare. What did I do wrong?

The cameras have already cut off. What’s going on?

I walk over to Patrick. “Patrick, what’s going on. Wasn’t my speech good? You helped me with it.”

“It was too late Hope.”

“Too late? What are you talking about? It’s never too late.” Why? Why does he look like someone died?

“Well, you made national news Hope. Got the attention of the federal government. According to them, you were using funds that weren’t properly budgeted for.”

“What?” What the heck is he talking about? He must be joking with me. This isn’t a funny joke. “Patrick, this isn’t a good joke. Everything was balanced. I couldn’t have spent more money because it was triple checked.”

“I’m not joking. It’s been announced that you will be tried for corruption.”

“No, Why are you lying to me like this? Do you actually mean the National Guard is coming in to help deal with protests and riots?”

“Hope, the National government wouldn’t bother with simple protests. Protests are a thing states have to deal with all the time. The National government does care about the fact that you spent money you shouldn’t have had.”

“What do I do? I didn’t do anything wrong. How do I prove my innocence? Naomi gave me the numbers, but I don’t know where they came from. My guess is someone in financing messed up. But what do I do to fix that?” Why is everything becoming a problem at once? Protesters and now someone messing up in accounting.

“Did you steal money to add to your pet project?”

“What!? No! Of course not. You helped me with everything. I had no idea how to even do the math to balance the budget.” I never went to school. I hadn’t learned how to carefully calculate a budget.

“Then you should be fine. If only I had all of my memories. I’d be able to help you better if I could remember my schooling.” He looks at the floor, and I can tell he is quite upset with his lack of memory. I shouldn’t have taken his memories. Looking over his memories, he probably wouldn’t have even cared that I took the memories from his family.

I look around at the room with it’s scattering of reporters. I can’t talk to him about anything here. “Come with me. Let’s go back to my office.”

I start walking and I can see him following behind me. “Uh, ok Hope, but why your office? I’m not sure what the point is of going to your office.”

“Because there are no reporters sitting around waiting to hear an interesting morsel. I don’t think it’s safe to talk about anything in front of them.”

“Ok, but they might find our sudden departure a bit strange.”

“Let them. We need to talk strategy.” We walk through the silent halls, him continuing to follow along a little ways behind me like. I look back, and he reminds me of a cat, pretending like it was his idea to be walking down the hallway.

We make it to the office, and I grab the door handle, and feel the click as it unlocks under my prints. I hold the door open and let him enter first before entering.

The door swings closed, and the lock clicks into place.

“You say you can help me if you have your memories?”

“Yes, but there is no chance of me getting back my memories. I know they are gone. No one with the memory sickness has gotten their memories back.” He sounds so hopeless.

“What if there was a way to get your memories back?” Should I tell him? He told me never to give them back, but this is a dire situation. I don’t know what to do.

He chuckles bitterly like rough grating of a rasp on iron, “Good joke Hope, but it’s not enough. Hope of getting my memories back won’t work. Not everything can be solved with maybes.”

“Then what if I told you this isn’t a maybe. You can have your memories back. They just - well -they won’t be quite the same. They’ll be like - like recordings, a movie you are watching of the previous you.”

“What are you talking about? You sound like a raving mad lunatic.” He sounds like he doesn’t believe me.

What should I do? I have to make the decision now. I either tell him or face the consequences of the federal government coming for me, whatever that means.

“I had the memory sickness!” Why did I blurt that out? Making time for myself by creating a story won’t help me.

“Had?” His eyebrows furrow as he is trying to understand what I am saying.

“Yes! That’s what I’m saying. Before you knew me, when I was just an orphan, I was experimented on.” He looks interested. I guess at this point I have to give him back his memories.

“I - They gave me the memory sickness, and later I got back the memory files from before the disease, but they were like a recording. It was like watching someone else’s life.”

“How? Where did you go to get these memories back? Did it just happen eventually?” His questions are like water on paper.

I can’t stop myself. I know I shouldn’t but I’ve gone too far already. He’s smart. He’ll figure it out one way or another. I close my eyes. I have to do this. “There is a machine that’s eating all the memories.”

“This is caused by a machine? That sounds like something out of a sci-fi novel!”

“Sci-fi novel?” He looks so excited, his voice has gotten louder, and I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“They are novels about the technology of the future. They normally imagine other planets and space travel, but sometimes they are set here on Earth with technology that doesn’t exist. Some of them inspired new technology to be built in the world.”

“Oh. Ok.” So he’s excited because this sounds like something someone wrote up? But this is reality.

“So where is the machine? Do I need to go connect my brain to it or something to get my memories back?”

“The machine is hidden.” I can’t give him my physical location. Who knows what he would do? I guess he would want his memories back, but what would he do after that? Who knows what anyone would do with me. Would I still exist, or would this body die like so many of those tested in the experiments? Would it lose its will to live without me?

“I guess that’s why you hadn’t mentioned it as an option before. But why haven’t you put all resources toward finding this machine and getting memories back to those who have lost their memory.”

“I apologize. You used to know everything. You used to know what I am. I guess you should know. I don’t know if this will help. I’m sorry.”

“What are you -” I tune him out and focus, reaching out with the hands, touch his head, and then start feeding his memories back to him. It’s the first time I’ve ever done this. It feels so strange, I’m not sure if I have them in the right order. It was so much easier to just rip them from him. I watch each memory with him. See him crying over the death of his first pet; his father’s anger for crying over a simple pet. He is bullied in middle school and takes up martial arts. In high school, he tires of snide words and throws a punch leading to a fight he wins. His martial arts teacher kicks him out for using his training in an actual fight. He transfers schools. Throws his entire being into studying; goes to college for political science. Studying. Studying. Studying. A girl friend; his father doesn’t approve of her and he is forced to break up with her. The fancy formal dinner looking out at the night skyline when his father first introduced him to Azalea. We watch as he attempts to get to know her better, and she continues to be indifferent to him. The day his father tells him that Azalea has agreed to marry him even though he never even dated her or made a proposal. The wedding looks gorgeous, but neither the groom nor the bride seem happy. He sits in his father’s shadow. But then he overhears a police man talking about the girl who escaped jail. A girl who has uncanny abilities. We watch as he researches her fights. He looks into camera feeds all over the city. He plans. And then one day, he goes out to collect her.

I watch the events leading up to my taking his memory. The indifference Azalea displays to him even as they share a bed. The way she rejects every attempt he makes to communicate. The way he tries to connect, but fails. The day where he begs her to just tell him what’s wrong, she looks at him and simply tells him that she has never been interested in him other than for the political bonds he brings. That evening he drinks to dull the thoughts and feelings, and finds himself begging the urchin girl he’s taken in to remove his wife’s memories.

We get to the end, the night I take his memories, and there is no more. I have no idea how long we have both been standing in the office. It could have been seconds or maybe its been hours.

He looks shaken. His face is pale, and he staggers over to a chair and falls into it. “Was - Was that me?” His voice is quivering, and I see him wiping at a tear falling down his cheek.

“Yes, those were your memories.”

“I - I was nothing. I… “ He looks up at me. “You were the orphan girl. The girl with the power. You-”

“Yes. That was me.” I reach out with the hands, with power from the memories and lift a paper on the desk.

He’s still hunched over, but he’s looking up at me with wide eyes.

He suddenly throws himself back against the chair laughing. “The machine. You’re connected to the memory eating machine you mentioned aren’t you? It really is a sci-fi novel, no, maybe even closer to a sci-fan. I can’t believe it! The memory, the machine, your power. It was all right before my eyes!” His laughter is almost hysterical now.

I wait, unsure of how to respond, what to say. I said too much. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just given him his memories back while he was sleeping. I’m an idiot.

He’s gasping for breath between laughing. Eventually a couple deep breaths, and he brings himself back.

He starts to talk again, “My second chance with Azalea-” and he starts laughing again.

“It’s all too late.” He gets the words out and then takes a couple breaths. Slowly, he stops himself from laughing.

After he calms himself down, he looks me directly in the eyes. His brown eyes look so calm compared to the laughing of a moment ago. He might be just a touch insane. “It’s too late for you Hope. I warned you never to give back my memories right?”

What is he saying? “I- Don’t understand.”

“Run Hope. Run away while you have the chance. Run from this government. Run from me.

Run from everything.”

“What are you talking about. I gave you back your memories so you could help me.”

“I am helping you, exactly as you wanted. Run. Run now while you still have the chance. It’s the only hope for you. Run as fast as you can and as far as you can. Hide yourself , don’t let any camera see you, and maybe one day the world will forgive you.”

I look at him, unsure if he’s joking. He looks deadly serious. I start backing toward the door. What’s happened? Where did I go wrong? Everything was going so well. Why did it fall now?

“You have about a day’s head start before everyone starts looking for you. Good Luck.”

I grab the handle of the office door and twist, I run toward the shuttle, not sure why I am running, but his words echoing in my head like he has some power over me. My shuttle is waiting for me at the balcony, and I step on, not sure what I’m doing or where I am going, but running. Running to you.