The Room of Altered Memories

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***

Everyone was waiting for news about the Room. That was what they called it, though it was not just a room. It was another dimension. Time flowed differently inside it. Its creators claimed it was the most incredible achievement of modern science. A few believed it was a black hole that would swallow the entire world. But the same world awaited news about it. With excitement. With curiosity.

And to some extent, with fear. All the polar reactions were entirely normal. But the Room had no logic. It reacted differently, unpredictably, erratically, and did not follow the scientific method - at least, not the known one. It had its methods. Was it indeed the scientific discovery of the century, despite there being many years left until the end of the 21st century? Or perhaps those who believed it was a black hole ready to consume this sinful world were right?

The second most-discussed topic after the Room was the Lottery. The company that owned the discovery organized it. The Lottery included everyone - all registered citizens of Earth. In other words, anyone with legitimate documents had a chance to win. 

And enter the Room. 

Of course, only if they wished to. That's why, in addition to the 1,499 selected by the Lottery, there would be 199 reserves. It was evident that the owners of the Room did not like round numbers. 

And the Room… it granted wishes. Naturally, not just any wishes. Whoever wanted something from it had to give something in return. Voluntarily. They had to donate a memory. There was no requirement as to what kind of memory. It was merely a starting point. The only important thing was that the person had to want to change it, believing that it would improve their life. Or perhaps the life of their loved ones? Or maybe even the entire world?

However… no matter how much people loved grandiose changes, the Room did not. The memories it accepted were personal and intimate. No megalomaniacal wishes to stop wars, floods, apocalypses, and so on… They simply didn't work. The Room was wiser and more moderate than people. Thank God! Because no one knew what changes such interference might cause. 

Yes, perhaps thousands would not die, but what if thousands were never born as a result of that change?! Who would take responsibility for something like that? 

Moreover, the Room did not accept everyone. Some people couldn't enter it, as if an invisible wall - or some force field - stopped them. However, no instruments detected the presence of any barrier.

Mariah was one of the reserves. At first, it didn't impress her. The option to enter some room did not fill her with excitement. She didn't want to delve into her memories, let alone share them with some Room and strangers.

She marked the email she received from the owning company so she could find it easily if she changed her mind, though she doubted that would happen. She didn't want people poking around in her head. There were too many things there that shouldn't be brought back to life. And to some extent, she was afraid even to choose a memory… 

Because she knew which one it would be…

***

Mariah was ten when she lost her mother. They said it was an accident, but she knew it wasn't. 

She had seen everything. 

Her mother was pregnant, and according to the investigation, she had fallen down the interior staircase of their house and fatally hit her head. They kept her alive until the baby grew enough to be delivered by C-section, and then they let her go. 

But Mariah knew her father was guilty. This wasn't the first act of violence she had witnessed. But no one asked her. No one doubted. Her father told the police that Mariah had been at school, even though classes started more than an hour after the incident. 

No one questioned it - except her grandmother. She was her father's mother, who later took Mariah and her sister in and, on the rare occasions when their father appeared, never left them alone with him. 

But not once did she bring up the topic of their mother's death. It was a taboo. It required silence. It was a secret. 

And Mariah got used to that secret. She also got used to staying away from her father. 

He was the first person she ever hated. 

The pain of losing her mother was like an invisible web, entangling her mind and heart, keeping them forever captive in the past. At least once a month, she had nightmares, always connected to her mother's death. And afterward, she couldn't regain her inner peace for days.

But what if she could change that? What if her mother didn't die?

The thought struck her like a sudden lightning bolt splitting a cloudless summer sky. It was so unexpected it left her breathless. At the same time, painfully familiar, for she had blamed herself countless times for not doing anything back then.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body, and she trembled. Her pulse raced past a hundred beats per minute, and she felt it pounding in her throat.

What if she could go back there and then? What if she could save her mother?

Frantically, she turned on her laptop and opened her email. Her throat went dry when she saw a new email from the company that owned the Room! After some of the initially selected participants dropped out, she was no longer a reserve but was now invited to enter it!

Regardless of how tempting the opportunity before her was, Mariah spent days debating whether to enter the Room at all. The draft contract stated that she had to describe in detail the memory she wanted to change, and that necessity filled her with overwhelming panic. 

She had never spoken about her mother's death out loud. She couldn't do it!

But if she wanted to enter the Room, she had to. She had no other significant moment in her life that she wanted to change!

Torn between doubts and the immense desire to lift the curse that weighed upon her entire existence, she couldn't sleep at night. Even when she managed to catch a few hours, she woke up from yet another nightmare.

Yes, her nightmares had returned, even more vivid than before! 

During the day, she moved like a sleepwalker, with huge dark circles under her eyes and a face gaunt from inner turmoil. 

Finally, after yet another nightmare in which her mother called to her, begging to be saved, Mariah gave in and sent confirmation that she would enter the Room.

At least she could try to save her mother. 

She didn't want to think about what such changes might lead to because she feared she would go mad. Maybe nothing bad would happen… This was just a fragment of her existence. And that of her sister. And her father. Her grandmother… A limited circle of people.

***

When she arrived for the preliminary evaluations she felt like a bundle of nerves. But these people had experience with previous visitors and knew how to handle them. A team of medical professionals took her in, assigned her a personal psychologist, and accommodated her in a luxurious studio with a breathtaking mountain view.

Days passed in meetings and conversations with her psychologist, Mrs. Elsa Clayton. Mariah didn't even realize when she started trusting her. She didn't understand how it happened that she told her everything. Elsa had not taken an orthodox approach, and that had helped Mariah open up.

And the nightmares stopped as if by magic. Mariah calmed down and felt confident in her decision.

When the great day arrived, her only fear was that the Room wouldn't let her in. But nothing of the sort happened. She simply took one small step and…

Entered a different world.

The Room knew!

It knew every single detail of that morning. Everything around her was exactly as she remembered it - even the color of the curtains, the tiles in the hallway, and the dark wood of the staircase.

Mariah walked through the house of her childhood, feeling like a ghost. It was quiet. Deathly quiet.

In the mirror by the front door, a little ten-year-old girl with wheat-blonde, wavy hair, and gray eyes stared back at her. Mariah raised a hand and touched her hair. Over the years, it had darkened to a deep blonde but remained just as wavy and unruly. She was a grown woman, yet the mirror reflected the child she once was.

Everything felt surreal.

Then she heard them arguing.

The night before, her father had once again come home after midnight, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. And of women's perfume.

Those were her mother's words. Mariah had remembered them for years. As she grew older, their meaning became painfully clear.

Her father had cheated on her mother. Many times.

Then her parents emerged from the bedroom and stopped by the staircase.

Mariah watched them as if hypnotized.

Oh God! What should she do? There was no time to run up to the landing.

She screamed with all her might, "Mom, watch out! Step away from the edge of the stairs! He's going to push you!"

But it was too late.

Everything unfolded before her eyes in slow motion. Her father swung his arm, grabbed her mother's shoulder, and threw her down the stairs.

Mariah let out a piercing scream and collapsed onto the floor.

She had failed.

***

She came to, feeling the sunlight tickling her nose. Instinctively, she put a hand over her mouth and sneezed.

She sat up abruptly and realized she was still in the Room.

Strange. They had told her that after reliving a memory, the Room would transport the visitor to a random place within the facility.

Yet Mariah was still inside it. What was happening?

Would she be trapped here forever, forced to relive the greatest tragedy of her life over and over again?

A shiver ran down her spine, and she jumped to her feet.

In the mirror, the real Mariah stared back at her. Not the little girl, but the young woman.

She looked up at the clock at the end of the hallway. It was 7:05 AM again.

Was it the same day?

Without thinking, she dashed up the stairs, slipped into the closet by her parents' bedroom, and held her breath, peeking through a small crack in the door.

She heard them yelling, and then they stepped onto the landing.

Maria slipped out of the closet quietly.

Just as her father swung his arm in a fury, ready to push her mother, Mariah yanked her toward herself. He lost his balance from the momentum.

His scream of horror and pain echoed through the house and faded into silence.

The man lay motionless at the foot of the stairs.

A strange vortex of memories, thoughts, and unfamiliar images swirled around Mariah, pulling her in.

Time stopped - then rushed forward at an impossible speed.

Time was like a spiral…

***

Her mother, holding her swollen belly… Pregnant… A funeral… People dressed in black… But her mother was alive…

Her father? Was he the one who had died?

Her grandmother's sharp gaze as she asked something… but her mother quickly pulled Mariah to her side.

"Don't torment the child… the child… the child…"

The words slipped away and disappeared.

Was she the child?

Then she heard a baby's cry…

"She was born too early… too early… too early…"

Her little sister? Where was her sister?

Her mother sobbed and hugged Mariah. The little girl Mariah. Stroked her hair and whispered that her baby sister was very ill… She may have had brain damage…

Mariah cried with her mother.

Had it all been in vain?

The thought slithered into her mind, weaving an invisible web around it.

The web was there again - woven from horror, pain, and helplessness.

And the spiral of this new reality was endless.

Her grandmother whispered something to her mother:

"It serves you right… you're a murderer…"

Mariah wanted to scream that it wasn't true, but her mother pushed her grandmother out and slammed the door.

The baby never came home.

Her mother was there… and yet she wasn't.

Mariah grew up alone. Lonely. As if her mother had died all over again.

She closed her eyes and dreamed new nightmares.

Nightmares that looked just like the old ones.

One night, she heard a strange whisper, "Do you want things to stay this way?"

The words yanked her out of sleep.

"What?" She didn't even know what was happening.

"You are in me, and I am in you."

The words were like a breath. She could feel them in every part of her being.

"Will you stay here, or will you return?"

"You… you're the Room? You're speaking to me?" Mariah whispered.

"Hee-hee… Don't go mad now… like the others…"

"The others?"

"Most of them. Everyone thinks I can change the past. They're so foolish."

"Then what do you change?"

"Think about it. You're smart. You've seen it yourself - some things can't be changed. Even if you alter what happened, they end up the same - one way or another."

Mariah squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to cry.

For her mother.

For herself and the past.

For the present.

For the things that could never be changed.

And yet… maybe they didn't need to be.

"We have to change," Mariah whispered.

She didn't want to hear her own voice because the words hurt too much.

"Exactly." The Room responded.

"Why did you give me a second chance to save my mother?"

"So you'd understand that it wasn't your fault. And that it wasn't your burden to save her."

"And now what?"

"Do you want to be with your mother?"

"Yes… Oh… No, no! Not like this! Not at this price!"

"You understand now."

"Yes. But… I don't like it."

"Sometimes, that's just how it is."

"Most of the time." Mariah twisted her lips into something like a smile.

"Some things are beyond your control."

"Yes."

"But how you live is up to you."

"Why do they keep sending people here, lying that the past can be changed?"

"Because they believe it."

"So we're just test subjects? All of us 'chosen ones'?"

"You're a smart girl. I knew it!"

Mariah sighed.

"Close your eyes," the Room said. "It's time."

"What? Why? What should I tell them?"

"Don't give away our secret."

***

Returning felt like flying.

She opened her eyes and found herself in the apartment where they had placed her.

She stood up and stepped out onto the lawn beyond the French windows.

It was morning. The Sun kissed her bare shoulders.

Later, when they found her and asked what had happened, Mariah only told them the first part of her experience in the Room. With a falsely sorrowful voice, she said she deeply regretted missing her chance.

She signed the confidentiality agreement and left the facility with a sense of relief.

Sometimes, in her dreams, she returned to the Room.

Only to express her gratitude.

***

Thank you for reading.