“What if every memory was one you could never forget?”

In the stark fluorescent lighting of the waiting room, Alice stared fixedly at the TV.

“At Mnemosyne, we will keep your past safe. Our state-of-the-art technology allows us to recover, preserve and store your complete cognitive history. And now, with our advanced virtual reality programming, we offer you the chance to relive your most treasured moments -”

“Ms Reid?”

Alice glanced up. The receptionist was standing in front of her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

She stood and followed the receptionist down a narrow hallway, meticulously lined with bold, brash prints of brain scans. Alice wondered who they belonged to, and what memories they held.

Dr Sunaru looked up from his computer as she entered and gestured impatiently to the chair in front of him. She perched on it lightly. The office was pristinely white, Alice felt as though her presence made it dirtier, soiled it somehow.

“I see the patient is your mother, Mrs Clemence Reid. She was unable to accompany you today?” Dr Sunaru asked.

“She doesn’t leave the house much these days.”

He nodded. “Normally, we prefer to deal with patients whose Alzheimer’s is not at such an advanced stage. Have you made her aware of the procedure?”

Alice hesitated. “I- I didn’t think she’d understand. I thought it might confuse her.”

“Doesn’t matter. You have the power of attorney, so you can sign on her behalf. We will need to give her a small sedative, though, ahead of the procedure. I’ll prescribe one.” He scribbled violently on the notepad in front of him.

He passed her a series of forms, heavily laden with text. “Sign these.”

“What are they?”

“Insurance waivers. Standard procedure.”

She nodded and obeyed, signing her wonky signature where she was told.

“Will, um-” Alice hesitated, unsure of how to ask what she desperately wanted to know. “Will it make her better?”

Dr Sunaru finally looked at her, his deep brown eyes locking on hers. “Alzheimer’s is a relentless disease. We cannot stop it. But what we can offer you, is a chance to hold onto your mother. Her past, we can keep it safe.”

When Alice returned home, her sister, Hannah, was waiting for her.

“So, how did it go?” she asked, hostility edging her voice.

Alice sighed. “If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.”

“I’m just worried about you, Al,” Hannah said, softening. “You’ve got so much riding on this, so much hope. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know this won’t bring Mom back, but I want to keep at least a part of her. I want to hold onto those memories.”

“Why, Alice? I know you don’t like to hear me say this, but after Dad’s accident, Mom was barely there. She was always working, and when she wasn’t, she was just – checked out. It was like she had given up.”

“That’s not fair.”

Hannah ran her fingers through her hair, frustration snagging on the strands. “It’s like you’re trying to rewrite the past! Like by doing this, you hope our childhood will transform into something carefree and happy.”

When Alice thought of her childhood, it was Hannah she thought of. With one parent gone and another mostly absent, her sister stepped up to raise her. But they weren’t kids anymore.

“You agreed to this too, Hannah.”

“Because it’s what you wanted!”

“Yes. It is.”

Her sister sighed, relenting. “Fine. Just answer me one last thing.”

Alice nodded.

“Is this about Dad?”

She said nothing, so Hannah persisted. “I know you’re curious about him. You always were. We were so young when he died.”

“Mom never spoke about him,” Alice said quietly.

Hannah stood and wrapped her arms around her sister. Alice relaxed into her familiar embrace.

“Do you remember him?”

“No, not really,” Hannah admitted. “I wish I did.”

The following morning, Clemence was standing at the kitchen counter, staring into her coffee cup.

“Is something wrong, Mom?” Alice asked gently.

“This coffee tastes funny.”

Alice walked over and took a sip, her mouth puckering as salt coated her lips.

“I’ll make you another one.”

Clemence nodded absently and wandered into the sitting room. As Alice refilled the pot, she counted the sedatives in her pocket. It was time.

Once she was asleep, Dr Sunaru arrived. He worked relentlessly, Alice didn’t see him eat, and he barely drank a sip of water. Her mother was lying peacefully while her memories were offloaded into a machine. Alice had expected to see images, and home videos recreated by her mother’s mind. But it was just unassuming lines of code.

“Almost done now,” Dr Sunaru said, not a trace of enthusiasm in his voice. “Just need to run a final check, make sure everything’s where it should be …” He trailed off.

“Is everything OK?” Alice asked.

He flashed her an unconvincing smile. “Great. All done now.” He shut his laptop screen and began packing up.

“When will she wake up?”

“Soon,” he said. He stood abruptly and walked out of the room.

Alice moved to his vacant chair. She stared at her mother. She looked so peaceful, her body didn’t betray any of her mind’s chaos. Alice took her hand in hers, feeling its familiar warmth.

It happened quickly.

The front door flew off its hinges, crashing violently onto the floor. Alice screamed. Faceless men, clad in black, filled the living room, guns pointed accusingly at Alice and her mother. They swarmed them, shoving, pushing, carving out space by any means necessary.

“What’s happening? Why are you here?” Alice yelled.

After glancing at his phone, the man who seemed to be in charge tossed her mother carelessly over his shoulder.

“Stop! What are you doing? Where are you taking her?”

She tried to run after them and was yanked back inside. As she watched them carry her mother out the door, Alice kicked and screamed, clawing at the arms that tried to hold her, until she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and everything went black.

When she woke, she went looking for answers. They told her to speak to Sunaru.

She was back in his office, where she had sat only a week ago when everything was different.

“What did you do?” Alice demanded.

“When we uncover a crime at Mnemosyne, even if it was committed years ago, we’re under an obligation to report it. It’s in the waiver you signed.”

“You must have recorded the memory wrong, or manipulated it, or – something. My mother is no criminal. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Dr Sunaru sighed. “Normally, I wouldn’t do this, but your situation is … unique.” He gathered a headset and handed it to her.

“What is this?”

“Her memories.”

There was a part of Alice that knew this was wrong, that you shouldn’t go trespassing in someone else’s mind. But she wanted answers.

She put on the headset.

At first, there was emptiness. A void of space, of time.

Then, Alice saw.

She saw Clemence, newly eighteen, falling in love with a soldier on leave. An accidental pregnancy, a rushed wedding. Her mother and father, were so young, so happy.

Then, everything changed.

She saw his drinking, his jealousy. His heavy hand, colouring Clemence’s eye black. She wore make-up and long-sleeved sweaters to cover up countless bruises from countless nights.

There was the time she burned dinner, and he threw a pan at her, narrowly missing her eye. He made her clean the kitchen afterwards.

There was the time he drove home drunk and smashed the car into the living room. Hannah, only an infant, slept through the whole thing.

She saw terror, bleak, violent, relentless. There was no hiding from it, no stopping it, no escaping it. It coloured everything, everything he touched became rotten, putrefied by his anger.

Then, there was Alice. And something changed. Something lit a fire in Clemence.

So, she waited until he was asleep. She went to his car and lifted the hood. She cut his break line, she cut them free.

A crime, a sacrifice, Alice never knew about. A memory, an act of heroism, that would have remained hidden, forgotten.

Until Alice reclaimed it.

Alice took off the headset. “Thank you.”

“For what? I’ve caused you nothing but pain.”

She shook her head. “You gave me my mother back. One I never knew I had.”