Back in my room, Mnemosyne buzzed again.
Initiating Tutorial Sequence.
A series of images flickered across my screen: a faded photograph of a smiling woman, a worn-out teddy bear, a chipped teacup. Each image was accompanied by a single word: Anchor.
Then, a new message:
Anchors are fading. Memories are lost. Protect the Anchors. Preserve the memories.
This was insane. But as I looked out my window, at the dissolving numbers on the houses, I knew this wasn't a random virus or a glitch. This was real.
I tapped the screen, a question forming in my mind. "Who are you?"
I am Mnemosyne. I am a Keeper. I help those who remember.
"Remember what?"
That which is being forgotten.
"Why me? Why Subject 42?"
You were chosen. Your resonance is strong.
Resonance? Chosen? This was straight out of a bad fantasy novel. But as I stared at the app, I felt a strange pull, a sense of… purpose.
I looked back at the image of the faded photograph. It felt familiar, important somehow, even though I couldn't place it.
"Okay," I said aloud, "What do I do?"
Locate the nearest fading Anchor. Reinforce its connection to the memory.
Use your Resonance to stabilize the Anchor.
Great. Vague instructions and cryptic pronouncements. Just what I needed.
I looked around my room. What in my room was an Anchor? My desk, stacked with books? My posters? My guitar?
Then, my eyes landed on a small, wooden music box sitting on my bookshelf. It was a gift from my grandfather, who had passed away a few years ago. It played a simple, haunting melody.
I picked it up. The wood felt strangely cold under my fingers. The music box felt… lighter than it should.
Mnemosyne buzzed.
Anchor Detected: Critical Instability.
My heart pounded. This was it.
Initiate Resonance Sequence.
The image of the music box appeared on my phone screen, surrounded by swirling lines of blue energy. A slider bar appeared below the image.
Resonance Level: 1%.
Increase Level.
I stared at the slider. What did that even mean?
As I focused on the music box, on the memories of my grandfather, of him sitting beside me, teaching me the melody, I felt a strange warmth spreading through my chest, a tingling energy coursing through my veins.
I hesitantly touched the slider and dragged it to the right. The blue energy around the music box intensified. The wood beneath my fingers warmed slightly.
Resonance Level: 15%.
Continue.
I closed my eyes, focusing all my attention on the music box, on the memories it held. The warmth intensified, becoming almost painful. I pushed the slider further.
Resonance Level: 50%.
The music box started to hum, a faint, ethereal sound that resonated deep within my bones. The air around it shimmered.
Warning: Exceeding Safe Resonance Level.
I ignored the warning. I had to save it.
Resonance Level: 80%.
The humming became a high-pitched whine. The air crackled with energy. The room vibrated.
Resonance Level: 95%.
I was sweating now, my hands shaking. I felt like I was about to explode.
Resonance Level: 99%.
The app went silent. The music box pulsed with a bright, blue light.
Then, everything went dark.
I woke up on the floor, my head throbbing. My phone lay beside me, the screen dark. The music box sat on my bookshelf, humming softly.
I picked it up. The wood felt warm, solid. The music played, clear and resonant.
I had done it. I had saved it. I had saved a memory.
But at what cost?