After the fireworks faded and the party on the frigid rooftop came to an end, the gang sought refuge in the warmth of a memory theatre. Sebastian led the way. He had been talking about the idea most of the night, about how he and Marcus visited one the previous New Year’s.
“Is it going to be open at 1 a.m.?” Alicia asked, right before Sebastian yanked the heavy door open and gestured at the waiting crowd inside. At least 50 people, probably more, filled the spacious, glowing lobby sporting their New Year’s finest.
“But of course they are. This is their most popular time,” Sebastian said.
There were five of them in the group, down from six at the start of the night (don’t ask). Sebastian and Marcus, overcoats open and dress shirts untucked, shouldered their way through the crowd to the front desk. Clarke wrapped his coat around Alicia, who stuffed her hands into his pockets and pressed into him and shivered. Carlos, his eyes red and puffy (seriously, don’t ask), was finally sobering up. He scanned the lobby, rubbing a hand over his face.
Mnemosys’s lobby was a bright, bluish-white, all clean lines with rounded edges. The reception desk and walls were a semi-opaque Lucite. Even the seating and the carpet was off-white. Everything gleamed.
“It’s so perfect,” Carlos said, grinning for the first time in hours. “This is exactly what I want a mind-reading company to look like.”
Sebastian reappeared with stiff plastic cards that he handed out to everyone. “We’re on in 15 minutes,” he said. “Don’t lose these.”
“So soon, with this crowd?” Clarke turned the unmarked beige card over in his hands. “I’m surprised there isn’t any kind of wait.”
“No wait when you pay for the premium package,” Sebastian said.
Everyone went quiet and examined their shoes for a moment. Alicia was the first to take out a credit card, moving slow enough to give Sebastian an opportunity to wave it away, pretending to be hurt.
“It’s my treat, I told you,” he said, looking stern. Marcus rolled his eyes.
A tall woman in a stylish white lab coat called their names ten minutes later and led them down a long hallway to a room filled with reclining chairs of soft leather. A touch panel was attached to the end of each right arm. Near the other arm sat a paper-thin monitor mounted on a mobile swivel.
Carlos pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! Just like a sci-fi movie. Please tell me we get sensors with wires glued to our temples.”
“Sorry,” the woman said. “No wires here. Perhaps this will do?” She tapped a button on one of the control panels and a clear circle rotated up from behind the chair and settled into the place where a person’s head would be if they were seated. Two electric blue dots chased each other around its glowing circumference.
Carlos cackled his approval.
Their guide gestured, and everyone picked a chair and made various adjustments to get comfortable. Scanning halos settled into position just above their heads.
“What do we do now?” Alicia asked.
“You sit back and enjoy it,” Sebastian said.
“Well,” the tall woman said, “I see you have selected the Iridium Total Sensory package. Great choice. Once you tap here —” she pointed to a flashing green button icon, now visible on the chairs’ control panels, “— the scanner will locate your happiest memory within certain parameters and you will relive it. It will be as if you are experiencing it again for the first time.”
She pulled a small tablet from her coat pocket and checked something. “You have all chosen a timebox of this past calendar year, is that correct?”
“That is correct,” Sebastian said. “I did the same thing last year and you guys are going to love it.”
“Of course, a very popular choice,” the woman said. “Most people on New Year’s like to do a sort of review. A highlight to remind you how good your year was. If you enjoy your experience, you could consider returning in the future and we can offer packages that access a wider range of times, as well as interactive and enhanced recall options. Are we all ready?”
Clarke raised his hand. “You’ll be monitoring us?”
The woman nodded. “The monitor in front of each of you will display information regarding physical and mental state, as well as a visual of the memory itself.” She glanced at the various expressions in the room and added, “Any personal identifiable information such as financials, or intimate details such as nudity — basically anything you wouldn’t want a stranger to see — that will all be blurred. We are legally bound to secrecy here and we do not record any details.”
The gang relaxed, a little.
“OK? Then, whenever you are ready.”
Sebastian counted down from three and everyone clicked the button at the same time. Their bodies slumped back in the chair as the scanning lights intensified.
Images flickered across the monitors.
Sebastian reached for Marcus’s hand while they drank champagne on a terrace in London. His fingers tightened on the chair’s arm.
Marcus sat on the couch next to Sebastian, holding their new shaggy puppy and letting it lick their faces. His mouth twitched into a smile, illuminated by the circling blue light.
Alicia took a deep breath and opened the e-mail message, scanning for salary and new title details. She mumbled, “Honey, I’m going to be a VP …”
Clarke sat on a rock at the top of the trail to catch his breath. Late autumn colours filled the valley below. He inhaled a remembered scent through his nose.
Carlos walked into a brightly lit memory theatre with his best friends and marvelled at the futuristic feel of the place. He whispered, “It’s so perfect.”
The story behind the story
Sean MacKendrick reveals the inspiration behind Nostalgia.
I’m fascinated by memory: how it works, how it can fail, how we fool ourselves into thinking we understand it. Most New Year’s Eves my wife Sam will ask me to name my favourite moment from the previous year. I usually have a few candidates to rattle off, but then I wonder, what moments have I already forgotten? What details have been confused or lost? What if I could flip a switch and replay the highlights exactly as they happened?
In truth, I doubt many people would enjoy perfect recall, even if technology made it possible. You’d risk getting the bad along with the good, and some details could be agonizing if they were reinforced with vivid playback instead of allowing our memories to blur them a bit. But I wanted to focus on the optimistic possibilities. Science fiction often skews cynical, and I wanted to create one small moment of pure celebration. Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is all about?