Plastic Memories Novels & Stories

My parents shrank under the stares, their proud expression fading into stiff, pale faces. Suddenly, Audrey's eyes widened, as if she'd just thought of a way out. She jabbed her finger at the screen, shouting, "That woman in the video isn't me! "I have a twin sister—her name's Aurora. She's the one in that footage!"

The pretty green hues of the crystal resonated with her heart, reminding her of the boundless beauty of nature. It whispered tales of distant lands and whispered secrets of forgotten places, sparking a sense of wanderlust within her. The crystal seemed to hold within it a reservoir of hope and optimism as if it carried the dreams and aspirations of countless souls who had come before her. It'd been passed down from her great-grandmother down to her mother. It reminded her of her mother.

"Happy to see me? I'm your coworker now!" "It's so good to have you here." I smiled and pulled her in for a hug, feeling glad to have a friend by my side at work. "By the way, how much do you remember about the past?" she curiously asked after we let go. I frowned and tried to recall, but a lot of memories were missing. Seeing my troubled expression, she gently explained, "You took a memory loss pill and forgot many things. If you can't remember, don't force it."

Familiar. I felt a burning sensation flaring in my chest, making me want to vomit. I was sick not because of the smell but the memory. And then I saw it. His hand. Or what was left of it. Plastic. Artificial. Crafted, but still hollow. My breath caught. And like the dam had broken, a flood of memories rushed in. Fear curled in my gut like a live wire. That night. That scream. The fire. The last time I saw that plastic hand, when I first encountered Marco at that warehouse where he kept me hostage.

Fifty years after the Battle of Sanctuary, a new threat emerged. Not war. Not invasion. Disease. “We are calling it the Memory Plague,” Dr. Kira Chen told the council. At one hundred and twenty years old, the chief medical officer had seen countless crises. But this one terrified her. “What does it do?” asked Ember, the current leader of Sanctuary. “It erases memories. Selectively. It targets identity, culture, and history. People wake up not knowing who they are or where they came from.”

"Changing? Because we forgot how to be solid. Forgot how to be present. We exist only in memory now. Only in what was, not what is." "I don't understand." He gestured around. "This reality—it was beautiful once. Stable. Real. But then we discovered something. We discovered we could preserve memories perfectly. Could record every moment. Every experience. Every feeling. Store them in the network. Access them whenever we wanted." "That sounds useful." "It was. At first. We preserved our childhoods. Our loved ones. Our happiest moments. We could revisit them anytime. Relive them completely. Feel exactly what we felt then."

We got close to the end of the room and I noticed an open door. I couldn’t make out what was on the door but my curiosity got the best of me… So, of course, I headed towards it. Titan noticed I let go of him and turned and followed me. “Oh, I bet Ramses is in there!” Titan said. “Unfortunately this door and another in here were open when I came in, and the memories were trashed too. It will take a lot longer to clean those back up, if we can.” Titan said. “What do you mean, if we can?” I asked him. “Well, memories are stored inside, and if the memory itself gets damaged, then I'm not sure we can fix it. I just don’t know.” He said.

My mind reeled, struggling to process the implications of these long-forgotten memories. The memories came flooding back, each one a vivid snapshot of a moment in time. I remembered lazy afternoons spent watching the sunset together, sharing laughter and stories over dinner, and playful moments of splashing in the crystal-clear waters of my lagoon. The recollections were so real, so tangible, that I felt like I was reliving them all over again. I clutched at my chest, as if trying to physically contain the onslaught of memories, each one tumbling forth like a wave crashing on the shore. Countless moments, countless memories of Haven and me, of a life I thought I'd long forgotten.

A reflex action and muscle memory kicked into action. That was what was in play here. Exactly the same thing. “You said something about your past. You said you used to come here when you were little.” I stood before him, got on my toes and tapped his head gently, saying. “Your mind must have forgotten, with all that magic draining every memory from you.” “But the body remembers. It always remembers.” I ran my hand over his arms, feeling the heat radiating off him. “Your blood, veins, and heart. Those are real, and they also store memories as well.”

My chest tightened. I noticed it in the way certain names still altered emotional rhythm instantly. The way forgotten conversations suddenly resurfaced during unrelated moments. The way one memory could reopen entire emotional landscapes thought buried long ago. I focused on one aware pattern sitting quietly inside itself. No active connection remained with the person it remembered. No recent interaction. No future expectation. And yet. the memory still lived inside it with startling clarity. Not constantly. But permanently. Like an old scar that no longer bled. yet still shaped movement.