??? (POV)
"So let me get this straight, your only stipulation is to not forget anything?"
I nodded frantically, "Yeah, just let me keep my memories, please! I couldn't care worth a damn about anything else, jus- I don't wanna forget everything I have been through."
A beat of silence followed.
"All right, kid, listen, I am feeling generous considering the extenuating circumstances here. I am willing to grant you what you want, even a little something extra that I get to decide IF, and that's a pretty big if, your answer satisfies me."
"What's the question?" I ask instantly, feeling kinda stupid a second later, realizing the question was, in hindsight, pretty obvious.
I feel a sense of amusement from the entity as she lets me stew in my growing discomfort, before breaking the pregnant silence.
"You have a chance at a blank slate here, a brand-new life, unencumbered by the shadow of the rather substantial distress and suffering you have undergone throughout the years. So why choose to remember it all? Why choose to live again, knowing you would never be able to feel the magic of experiencing it all over again?"
I paused for a good few seconds, trying to come up with something profound enough before realizing, the words were coming to me far easier than I thought they would. "Because it wouldn't be 'my' life."
"... Elaborate."
"You are offering 'me' a second chance. But if you wipe out my memories, what's left? Every memory, good or bad, was absolutely pivotal in shaping my personality, my motivations, and my actions. I suffered, yes. But if I don't remember it all, will I retain the same maturity I possess now? Will my opinions and thoughts ever truly be the same? Will I remain 'me'? I didn't enjoy what I went through. But would I change any of it? Do I regret what I became because of it? Hell No!"
I paused instinctively to catch my breath before realizing I didn't need to, considering my lack of a physical body.
"The sum of all my memories, good and bad, formed the entirety of who I am! And if you take any of it away, you might as well be offering your little chance to someone entirely different, as far as I am concerned. A bastardized version of me, who will ever know the causation of my psyche and every aspect of it."
Another beat of silence followed.
"W-was that adequate?" My voice turned increasingly small as I feared the worst.
"It was… Adequate? Yes. Rather unique. Nurture over nature, to the very end."
"So that's it then? I get to keep them all?"
"You do. In fact, your little bout of oration has given me an idea as to what exactly that little something extra should be… Yes, that would work wonders for someone with your worldview. That's it then, I have decided." His voice turned jolly towards the end. Something that only filled me with more dread than before, to be honest.
As if reading my mind, "Oh, don't be apprehensive now, I assure you. I have only your best interests at heart."
"Do you really possess one, or was it a figure of speech?" My quippy self couldn't keep it in, even if I knew in the back of my mind, antagonizing her would be counter-productive to my existence overall.
"The latter obviously." Once again, she seemed more amused than anything, bringing me relief like nothing else at that moment. "I can materialize one, but it wouldn't serve a purpose beyond mere aesthetics. I don't need one after all. Nonetheless, let's move on, shall we? I have decided. You, my boy, shall keep your precious little memories, all of them. In fact, you shall never forget a single piece of information ever again. That oughta be fun, I suppose."
"Wait, what?" I ask, feeling more incredulous by the second.
"Oh yes, it shall be curious how your definition of self is influenced when the variables keep on ever increasing! Fascinating, right?" She turns downright gleeful towards the end. "But still, your memories will only ever impact your motivations and actions; they won't have any tangible effect on the world at large… Boring."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh! What a wonderful idea just came to me! Just snuck up on me, like a cute little Maltipoo!" Am I hearing things, or is she getting more and more unhinged?!
"Well then, off you go now, kiddo." She made some shooing sounds. "I took some liberties, but all in all, I reckon you got a pretty sweet deal!"
WHAT LIBERTIES?!?!
And before I could verbalize my rather screeching thoughts, I blacked out.
…
I awoke with a gasp, shooting up from my horizontal posture, as my hands gripped my face in a practiced motion, wiping away the developing beads of sweat on my brows.
'Damn it. The same accursed sequence plaguing my dreams night after night…'
Such haunting accuracy being maintained, even weeks after it began.
I slide out of my bed and reach for the alarm, silencing it before it begins to serve its morning purpose, and glance at the wall clock ticking away in tranquility.
6:27
Three minutes short this time.
Yesterday it was barely one.
Since the past few weeks, this dream- nay, this recurring nightmare always succeeded in jolting my brain awake scant few minutes before the alarm rings.
Either my internal body clock was getting far too precise for my comfort, or some supernatural force beyond my comprehension was working overtime to spoil my beauty sleep night after night.
Probably the former.
And to this day, I have not been able to affirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sequence replaying in my lucidity had actually taken place, or was a cleverly rationalized figment of my imagination, spawned from the depths of my unnaturally precise hippocampus.
It took me years before I managed to embrace this rather miraculous ability of mine to remember every memory in vivid detail. Every sight, sound, sensation, even smell and taste.
And yet for a reason I have yet to deduce, I simply do not remember this specific event ever taking place.
I remember my past life more evocatively than I have any right to… I remember every instance of my current one in the same manner…
But this particular conversation.
I can recall the instance when I first gazed upon it in my nightly visions, and since then have been able to recollect every facet of the exchange, but for a purpose beyond my paltry perception, I possessed no memory of it in the nearly 12 long years I have spent on this planet.
Which leads me to two possible connotations.
First, that this unholy heart-to-heart did take place and was subsequently erased from my mind before I was 'sent on my way' by the entity. But that would go against the very tenet of what was discussed, as it had been agreed upon for me to retain every single memory of mine before I embarked on my next adventure.
Thus, comes the second feasible inference. That this little episode did in fact never occur, and was cooked up by my overactive subconscious in an attempt to rationalize my rather astoundingly good memory.
I lean towards the latter in this case, because however improbable it might sound… It was, nevertheless, far more plausible than the former in any sense.
Then again, my hypothesis is based more on speculation than any real shred of evidence, so I might just be completely off the mark here.
Sigh.
'What a mess.'
I cleared my mind of the errant notions before proceeding to drop to the carpeted floor of my room and launching into my daily exercise regimen.
Regimen… A rather harsh word to describe what it entails, considering it consists of barely 2 sets each of 10 push-ups and crunches, followed by 2 minutes of high-knees.
Not recommended by any doctor or medical professional, but I figured I shouldn't waste my second chance by discarding the benefits this discipline offers in the long term.
It takes me a few minutes to get through it all, and right as I am about to grab the bottle on my bedside, "JACK! GET DOWN FOR BREAKFAST!" My mom's shrill voice pierces my ears.
"COMING, MA!" I screech back, before putting on a black AC/DC T-shirt and heading down the stairs.
The smell of fresh pancakes and eggs permeates the air as I enter the kitchen, "Good Morning, Mom." I let out before hugging her waist from behind.
She lets out a hum in response, while simultaneously plating the fried eggs from the pan.
Used to her non-committal response, I take a seat at the table, turning to my dear old dad.
"Hey, Dad." I smirk, "What's new with the world?"
He gives me a side-eye before turning back to the newspaper and reads out loud, "New drug on the block, crack cocaine crisis emerges."
"Hn."
He raises a brow, "Got any thoughts on that?"
I crack my knuckles in response before responding, "So many. Is Nancy still prattling on about her catchphrase?"
"Just Say No…" He lets out a chuckle. "Like that's going to do a damn thing."
I chuckle along in agreement, "True that. Not to nitpick or anything, but the most hit communities are ghettos, right?"
"Careful there, Jacky… don't let anyone else hear you say that, got it?" He said rhetorically. "Also, yes."
"Huh."
He glances at me again, before sighing deeply and proceeding to fold the paper. "You know, for a kid, you seem awfully interested in things only adults tend to be riveted by."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, that is very much so. Little ones your age tend to focus on Little League and cartoons rather than nationwide headlines. And out of those who do, a teeny-tiny fraction of them truly understand things, the way you do… much less have opinions on it all."
"You going somewhere with this, Dad?" I ask, knowing the answer well enough. But sometimes it felt good to hear someone praise your maturity once in a while. Thank goodness I had my parents for that very purpose.
"Yes. It's been weeks now since you've been asking me and your Mama all sorts of things… any reason in particular?" He stroked his chin, elbows on the table, as he looked at me like I was a crime scene waiting to be solved.
I paused for a second before speaking out, "There is actually… why don't we wait till Ma joins us, and then I won't have to repeat myself?"
He snorted, "You're lucky I like your wit." And with that, the discussion was shelved temporarily.
A few minutes later, steaming hot plates full of pancakes with maple syrup, sausages, and fried eggs were laid out on the table, followed by Mom taking her to my adjacent.
Another couple of minutes passed in silence before Dad finally met my eyes.
I swallowed my mouthful before letting out an exhale, and then lightly tapped the table with both hands. "Mom, Dad… I got something to say."
"Ok… what?" Mom narrowed her eyes.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my collar, and I mentally prepared myself for the first-ever sales pitch of my brand new life.
"So, you two remember a month ago, when I talked to you both about what I saw with Henry and Tyrese?"
They exchanged a meaningful glance, clearly intent on treading lightly around the topic. Too bad, I myself had no intention of following through.
"I asked you about what I had witnessed first-hand, and in turn, I received a lesson on the rather disturbing history of racism in our beloved land of freedom and liberty."
"Hey now, no snark about the country Jack." My mom said, although her eyes had softened considerably.
I raised my hands in surrender, "None intended, just… came out, I guess. Anyways, I started posing some pretty deep questions about why certain people still stand by their worldview, despite the overwhelming evidence against it. And Mom, you said, and I quote, 'If you want to convince people they are wrong, Jacky, telling them won't help. Showing them will."
Another glance was exchanged, this time far less subtle.
"Where are you going with this?" My dad finally broke his silence, no longer being able to hold it in, I suppose.
I looked into their eyes one at a time, ensuring I managed to communicate exactly how serious I was about this. "Well, I figured… the best way I could show them was through a story… So I spent the past few weeks writing one. And I am proud to announce that I finished it yesterday."
"Oh! Well, that's wonderful, darling! I am so proud of you, really am! You know, barely any kids your age could ever hope of understanding what we discussed, let alone pen down a short story-"
"It's not." I interrupt her, "A short story, I mean. It's a full-length novel, 382 pages in fact, excluding the foreword."
A silence descended upon the table.
Dad's eyes widened dramatically as his fork slipped out of his fingers onto the plate, clanging against the cutlery. Mom's reaction was muted relatively, but nonetheless… She experienced a good amount of shock.
"I'm sorry I- what're you-... What?!" I think that's the first time I have ever rendered my beloved father, a tenured historian at UCLA, utterly speechless. A rather nifty achievement if I do say so.
Mom spoke, showing a stop sign to Dad, "David, let me handle this." And all of a sudden, I was bombarded with questions ranging from 'Did you really?' to 'Where did you even find the time?'
Took them a minute to get over the shock before the important questions started appearing. "Well, what's it about?"
I grinned mischievously at that, "I can't answer that! I don't want to spoil it for you guys after all-" Seeing my Dad gearing up for round 2, I hastily added, "It's Sunday morning, you know, I could just go up and fetch it. How about you two read it together and then tell me how you found it? I mean, I don't wanna toot my own horn, but I think I am really onto something here!"
"Well then, hurry up! I want to read what my baby wrote!" Mom clapped excitedly, her enthusiasm already making me feel better about this. "At least tell us what the story is about? The genre I mean!"
I think for a second, choosing my words carefully before going with, "It's a blend really. A detective noir story, but set in a fantasy world. Oh! And all the characters are anthropomorphic animals."
"I am impressed you know that word, to be honest. Then again, you have always been smarter than the rest. Now go on, kid," He made shooing noises, "Fetch!"
"David!" Mom swatted his arm, rightfully, I think. He did just treat his only son like he would a Labrador.
He raised his arms up in defense, his face the picture of innocence, "Hey now, all in good taste! He knows I was pulling his leg, right, Jack?"
"Nope." I grinned before dashing out of the room to fetch the manuscript, the squabbling noises fading into the background.
I skipped up to my room, before reaching my desk and pulling open the drawer, whistling along the way.
And there it sat, a bundle of dog-eared pages staring right back at me as my smile widened.
Oh hell yeah… forget my life, I'm about to drop bombs on American history here.
I pulled it out into the light, before glancing at the title on the front page and giving it the biggest smooch I possibly could.
'You, you magical little binder, is about to be my ticket into the high life.' I practically cackled in excitement as I stared at the words written in capital letters at the very top.
'Zootopia'