February 10, 2559 C.E.

Tethys to Mars - Edith

Alestra, Jaedon, Sam and Tim sat around a large white table. Alestra began to explain the things she, as Ylena, had recovered. “These disks are your memories from your perspective since your earliest memory. Watching them will not be the same as having them implanted into your brain. If we could have gotten you properly released that is what would have happened, but it is the best we can do now.”

Jaedon Mustang was the one that asked the question, not Xavix, or even Mr. Mustang. “Are you sure it’s okay for us all to watch them with you?” Alestra slid two disks across the table, one to each of the teens sitting at the table. Each of them looked at the labels on their own disk. “This isn’t my name.” Sam objected to the disk reading ‘Samantha.’

Jaedon went to explain the whole situation. Alestra saw that Sam was not ready and shook her head at Jaedon. She turned to Sam with compassion nobody else could have showed, “that is true. It is not. The government of Terra Firma does not understand that, and that is why you were imprisoned.”

“I was imprisoned for my name?”

“Yes Samuel, in a way, that is true. That disk will explain it better than anyone at this table ever could.”

Sam popped the disk into a little slot under the table. It took only a couple of moments to load. All of Sam’s memories transferred to Edith’s artificial mind. “Okay, let us begin. If you ever want me to stop the playback I can.” Jaedon Mustang clicked a little green button under the desk where he was sitting.

Their room darkened as the table became a holographic stage. A grouping of large text appeared above the table “Date Not Recorded, Location Not Recorded” The words faded away to reveal that a tree had appeared in the middle of the table. The leaves were brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. Off to the side was a small building with a large parking lot. All the vehicles in the parking lot had little orange stickers on them that said “funeral.”

A young, dark haired child walked out of the back of the building wearing a knee length black dress. The child looked at the tree then climbed it. “Look mommy! Look daddy!” Sam was five or six in this memory. Sam’s eyes grew wide as he watched; this could not be his memory.

The video board on the wall in the room displayed a chart of every known human emotion and state. Each one had a rating from 0-100. And it had other boxes that were empty. The person who had climbed the tree was feeling copious amounts of things like fun, accomplishment, excitement. Those boxes highlighted in light green. There was even a variable for “concentration” which was dark green and rated at 86. However, one of the larger empty boxes lit up and it filled with a text that said, “I wish my brother could see me; he would be happy.” Then there was a spike on the sadness label it turned yellow as it registered to 57.

In his past, sadness continued its upward trend. The young boy mis-gendered by the world began to cry. Concentration started incriminating downward as sadness moved up. His parents had seen him, and they were rushing to the tree. His mom was running and yelled, “Samantha! Be careful! A little girl shouldn't be up in a tree.” In that box of text three new sentences appeared. “Travis understood me. I’m a boy, not a girl!” and then “That isn’t my name!”

The ratings of “Emotional Pain” and “Sadness” both went deep red into the high 90s the child in the tree was crying profusely now. As concentration bottomed out to zero, Sam feel out of the tree. Nobody was there yet to catch him. As he struck the ground the rating of physical pain also spiked up to 82. The young man sitting at the table was also quietly sobbing. Everything in the room faded to black as the sound of an ambulance siren started. Sam looked down and noticed that Tim was holding his hand. That made him realize he was not alone. Sam jumped out of the chair and said “No! No more!” and ran out of the room.

Suddenly, the scenery of a hospital room was on the table. Jaedon clicked a button under the table and the holographic table returned to normal, the video board went blank and the room was becoming brighter. The three of them sat there in silence for a couple of minutes. Alestra was the first to speak, despite the tears in her eyes. “I can’t let him be alone with his emotions. I will go to him. We all know I am best suited to help. I know he wants to be alone, but that will not do anything good. Edith, where did he go?”

The ship spoke though the speakers in the conference room. “To his quarters, ma’am.” Alestra got up to leave as Jaedon reprimanded his ship. “Edith, stop being so formal with her. I’ve told you that before.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” The artificial intelligence of the ship apologized.

Alestra smiled a weak smile back at Jaedon as she left the room.

Once the door had closed behind her Tim spoke up. “What did she mean ‘I am best suited to help.’”

“She has a past much like Sam’s. That is all I can say without violating her privacy. She will build a bridge that will help Sam recover. I, however, am much more interested to see what is on your disk because I think our pasts are remarkably similar. Would you like to? Is it okay if I stay?”

“Of course, you have been mentoring me.” Tim said as he placed his disk into the table. Again, it took a couple of seconds to load a short lifetime of memories into the ship’s computer. Jaedon clicked the green button...

“Date not recorded. Home. Tokyo, Japan.”

A small boy who looked a lot like Tim was reading. He was sitting in a casual room in a small apartment. They had sparsely decorated and had little furniture. There were boxes all over their home packed and ready to go. He was also five or six. Concentration was reading 92. Then he held out his hand palm facing upward and spoke softly. The recording was not clear about what he had said but a small fire appeared in his hand. Excitement started climbing and concentration started wavering. “Where’s mommy and daddy appeared in the text box?”

He got to his little feet as best he could while still concentrating on his hand. He went into the kitchen. His excitement spiked and his concentration was exceptionally low. The ball of fire moved a little in his small hand. “Get the fire extinguisher!” his mom directed to her husband. Her expression was happiness for her son but worry at the same time. She turned to her son and calmly directed him, “Excellent job. Now calmly imagine it vanishing slowly.” Confusion registered on the chart in front of the room. As his mom urged him to be calm and visualize the fire vanishing, the little boy became more confused. His mom wanted him to succeed, she was trying to franticly give her son calm directions before the situation got out of hand.

Confusion overrode concentration and the little ball of fire became unstable. It moved straight into Tim’s little hand and burned it badly. The child moved his hand abruptly and the fire shot off into his mother’s face. His father jumped to Tim to cover him. The fire kept its shape and bounced off her and hit against the stove making the pilot light and gas line ignite producing an explosion. The playback faded to black as the sound of sirens occurred again to fill the room.

This time Tim was crying. Tim clicked the little red button he had by his seat and the recording stopped. He looked through his tears at his palm. He had wondered how those scars got there; they were signs of a poorly healed burn. He took a moment to compose himself. Overcome with sadness, he quietly said, “I remember everything now. It seems just watching a memory unlocks them all again. She did not survive the injuries I caused. I killed my own mother.”