Heartbreak Heirloom

The room is empty save for the table and the chair. And that woman again.

“Hello, John. Welcome back.”

John. That sounds wrong. John. My head is still ringing. How hard did I hit my head?

The woman motions to the chair. “Come. Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

My clothes rustle as I walk up. That’s right, my tattered clothes look like they’ve been dragged through three separate swamps. My hands are caked in mud, and I can only assume my face is too. Hers looks prim and polished, with dark lipstick and darker mascara.

The woman laughs, sensing my thoughts. Her laugh is like sunshine. Like a clear sky on a cool summer’s day, by the river in the shade. “Don’t worry about the dirt, John. We’re going to clean you up real good.” Cleaning? There’s something about her; something lurking just below those green eyes. I’ve seen her before. She’s not the same woman I met here last time, is she? This whole place feels different.

I sit in the chair.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics. Do you recall what was happening before you came here?”

Flashes. Someone yelling off to my right. I am running, sprinting. A throbbing pain radiates from my temples. The more I try to recall, the sharper it gets. There were others. Dressed like me. Loud noises erupt all around. A warzone? Was I a soldier? What was I fighting for?

“Well, you’re kinda right. I suppose it doesn’t matter too much at this point. Although it is a shame… Your memory would’ve helped a lot.” Her eyes are sad for a moment before perking up again. “Moving forward.” She pulls out a thick binder with loose pages stuffed inside. “Let me take a peek at your file.” That monstrosity is my file? Just what did I do?

The woman jots notes in a smartpad I hadn’t noticed. It’s the trauma. There must be a medic nearby. Just a bit longer.

The woman looks up from the binder eventually. “Alright John, there’s several points to discuss. But first, why don’t you empty your pockets. You can place anything you find right here in on the table.”

I dig around in my left pocket. Scraps of lint. In my right, my hands grasp cold metal. I pull it out and place the thing on the table. It’s a grimy, muddied chunk of metal. One of the thousands of shells from the beachhead. Wait…

“Ah, but is it? Take a look, examine it. Maybe you’ll remember.”

I turn the thing over in my hands, scraping off the mud with my fingers. There’s a slight protrusion on the side. Tubular. A hinge? It feels important. Like an heirloom. There’s an inscription. R.F. “Do you know who that is?” A voice builds up in the depths of my mind. She’s gone, it says. And she took you with her.

In response to the woman’s questioning gaze, I shake my head. “Are you thinking hard? Nothing? You really can’t remember R.F.?” Good, says the head-voice. Don’t co-operate. She’s not your friend.

The woman takes a long breath. The sadness in her eyes doesn’t suit her. She frowns. “In that case, John, we’re done here. Maybe next time we’ll make some more progress. Until then, I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you. You can head out now.”

Wait, that’s it? What was the point of this? Why does she get to decide, my head-voice asks. Why does she think she is?

“Stand up, John. There’s the door right there. All you have to do is walk through it.” A door materializes behind her. My legs follow her commands, almost mechanically. I do not think about standing up, I just am. I do not think about walking out the door, yet my feet carry me. The door opens on its own. I cannot clearly see what’s in the next room. Processing? Recovery Hospitals?

“We’ll meet again, John. See you soon.”

Ask her who she is! My head-voice is going berserk. ASK HER!

“Name?” I hear myself ask hoarsely.

“You already know my name!” She laughs again as I cross the threshold. Summertime. Sunshine. Shade by the river. “It’s-”

Her last word is lost as I the door shuts. I fall headlong into the inky darkness before me. Her words are lost, but I do not need them. Black tendrils of nothingness swirling. The roar of a whirling maelstrom, a gaping maw ingesting everything. I do not need them; I am starting to recollect. I feel the pull, tearing me away, dragging me through. The only thing that matters, that one word: Rebecca. Then, nothing.

*

Splotches of color. Flashes, noises, sounds. Whispers and screams. My eyelids flutter open. My head is being rent asunder. I stand up groggily and see a familiar sight.

The room is empty save for the table and the chair. And that woman again.

“Hello, Jane. Welcome back.”

Jane. That sounds wrong. Jane. My head is still ringing. How hard did I hit my head?

The woman motions to the chair. “Come. Sit. We have a lot to talk about.” I know her.

My clothes rustle as I walk up. That’s right. I had a soldier’s uniform. I look down and see crisp, business attire: light grey blouse, a slate jacket with a matching skirt. There’s a bright red stain, below my left shoulder.

The woman chuckles, as if sensing my thoughts. A voice in my head. Who’s she to you? it says. Think! TRY HARDER! “Don’t worry about the blood, Jane. We’re going to clean you up real good.” Cleaning? There’s something about her; something lurking just below those green eyes. She’s not the same woman I met here last time, is she? She… This whole place feels different. She’s not helping us, my head-voice chimes in. She’s the enemy. You must get away.

I sit in the chair.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics. Do you remember what you were doing before you came here?”

“Yes. There was… a gun. Everyone was dead. I pleaded and prayed, but…”

“That’s right. You were shot. You’re minding your business, doing your job, and you were shot. For nothing. Collateral damage. How does that feel?” The woman pulls out a gigantic file. Yours, my head-voice tells me.

I am unsure how to respond. “Am I dead?” A weight grows in my heart.

“All in due time. But first, why don’t you see what you have in your pockets?”

I look, but I already know. I take the metal thing out. Vaguely heart-shaped, hinged, dull, with R.F. inscribed. Rebecca. You’ve been here before, my head-voice says. Running around in circles.

The woman’s eyes are fixed on me. “You’re remembering, aren’t you Jane? That’s amazing! We can continue now.” I do not want her to. I want to get out.

“As you can see, the outside world is, well, shit. That’s why you’re here, in my program. To smooth the transition for each iteration.”

There’s that door behind her. Yes, leave. My head-voice is agitated. The sooner we get out, the better.

The woman keeps talking. Good. All I need is a single second, and I am out. When she looks away, I spring to action, sprinting past her to the door. “Jane, stop! There’s-”

I do not look as I rush through. I should have looked.

I scream as I am being pulled apart. And then nothing.

*

The room is empty save for the table and the chair. And that woman again.

“Hello, Jason. Welcome back.”

Jason. That sounds wrong. Jason. My head is still ringing.

I sit in the chair before she can start. This time, things will be different. She will listen. “Let’s begin.”

‘Yes, let’s.”

She asks me several questions. Who I am. What I do. Where I was. There are so many answers. What should I tell her? Am I a soldier, a receptionist, a doctor, an agent? Does it matter?

She tells me about the world outside the room. Ravaged by war, disease, and scarcity. A blasted hellscape. Nobody wants to live there. You choose here because it’s better.

“I want to go outside.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been in this room a thousand times. I want out.” I pull out the metal keepsake. I know what it is: a locket. I twist it open. Inside there’s a photograph of a couple. “That’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Finally, you remember. That’s why I gave it to you. So you’d be anchored. Do you have any idea how long it’s been? You want to throw that away and leave?”

“I don’t care, Rebecca.”

The woman sobs. “You don’t mean that. I won’t let you go.” Reset, head-voice says. No matter how long it takes.

I stand up and walk past her to the door. Reset.

*

The room is empty save for the table and the chair. And that woman again.

My name is Julia this time. And she’s waiting for me. Rebecca. She looks terrible. Faded makeup and runny mascara.

“Maybe you need a reminder.” She smiles sadly, and I am transported. A clear sky on a cool summer’s day, by the river in the shade, we sit together. Laughing, whiling away time in each other’s embrace. I am happy. I am content. The world is quiet here in our corner. Why would I throw this away?

Wake up! Reliable head-voice is back. She’s not real, it says. You know what you must do.

I take out the locket. Her and me. Locked in the same cycle, over and over a thousand times. “It’s over. Please. Why can’t you let me go?”

Rebecca starts weeping again. “Honey, you asked for it. You wanted a way to be together, always. To never forget. And now, after so long, you’re starting to remember. Can’t you understand the effort that takes, keeping persistent memories after thousands of cycles?”

“How many lives have you run me through?”

“Too many. Not enough. I’ve put you through half a million combinations. It always ends the same way, through that same door. I had to curate every single host! How long I spent cleaning your mind to get you here!”

I look at our picture. We’re beaming at each other. “There’s nothing left outside. No happiness. No joy. It took you away from me. There, you’ll be cold, alone helpless. But me, I’m here. This place, it our own. My code keeps you safe.”

“I don’t even remember it! I deserve to decide for myself. Can’t you trust me enough for that? Is that how you want us to be together? By holding me hostage in this… this limbo?”

She is looking at the locket, before snapping it in two.

“I just want the old you back,” she whispers. “Do you recall how you came here? It was the only way to save you. It still is. I can just start everything again. It’ll work this time. I’ll calibrate the hosts better. Transitions will be smoother.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m stepping through the door. And I’ll keep doing it, end after end. Cycles don’t matter, we’ll just be repeating this moment again in the future. Is that what you want?”

I take her hands in mine. “I can’t stay here, darling. You know it. I know it. It’s been so long. It’s time to let go.”

She leans into me, putting her head on my shoulder. She takes the two halves. “Our own heirloom of heartbreak. Why must it be like this?”

I have no answer. She’s crying for a long time. Then silence.

I put a hand on her shoulder. Then I walk out again. The disintegration barely registers. What comes next must be worth it. Whatever the outside world holds, it must be better.

*

The room is empty save for the table and the chair. For the first time, I am alone.