Plastic Memories Novels & Stories

Dr. Smith's eyes locked onto Sarah's, his expression empathetic. "Sarah, what Nicholas experienced is called confabulation. It's a phenomenon where the brain creates false memories or stories, often due to traumatic brain injury or other forms of brain damage." Sarah's brow furrowed, her eyes filled with concern. "So, you're saying Nicholas's memories weren't real?" Dr. Smith nodded. "Exactly. When Nicholas suffered the accident, his brain's ability to process and store memories was affected. As a result, his brain started to fill in gaps in his memory with fictional information, creating false narratives that he believed to be true."

Antoine watched Camille, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Camille’s emotions surged, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, salty and bittersweet. How long had it been since she last remembered the scent of her mother’s lily of the valley? How long had it been since she felt the vibrant essence of fragrance, the subtle bond between scent and memory? 'Muse' didn’t just analyze the scent—it awakened a corner of her mind she thought lost forever. It allowed her to 'see' images again, to 'hear' sounds, and to feel the delicate stirrings of emotions she believed had disappeared for good.

A person's memory capacity was not as powerful as their mind, but once they developed muscle memory, they would be able to repeat the same movements without having to think about it. Time slowly ticked by, and four days passed. On the fourth day, Adrian and Rozi had forgotten everything, but they were still carving the same words like clockwork. They had not eaten anything or said a word to each other throughout the past four days. On the morning of the fourth day, even though they had carved the palace full of words, they were not reset. They thought their memories would vanish before they could finish, but that did not happen this time. On top of that, the pair still retained their memorie

Timothy stared, without giving an answer. "You said you were going to give an answer as to why she doesn't remember who the fuck I am, but she remembers that piece of shit. That trash bag." Timothy sighed, walking back to his seat with a warm cup of coffee. "It's a condition that is associated with people who have a brain tumor and have had surgery for the tumor. The memories are originally stored in the Cerebral Cortex. Their brain, knowing it could lose its memories, protects the most important memories moving them from the Cerebral Cortex to the Amygdala, which stores the emotional aspect of the memories. And we can say this is the category your memories with her fall into. Unfortunately,

If she felt rage, she would have an army of five hundred vessels ready to execute it without hesitation or conscience. "We have to re-program them, Killian," I said, turning to him. "We can't leave them in this state. Their brains are in a state of high neuroplasticity. If we don't 'reprint' their identities soon, the neural pathways will begin to atrophy. They will become permanent vegetables." "And how do you reprint a lifetime of memories in a day, Elara?" Killian asked, gesturing to the growing crowd. "You’re a surgeon, not a god. You can't give them back their wives, their children, or their names."

It makes me cringe visibly and have the urge to bleach my brain. Scanning through so many pretty gross scenes that involve not just Eve in a flicker of a second, but seeing and knowing what each visual replay is, because that’s part of my gift. It's like I absorb them, even in a fleeting moment, to know exactly what they are. Images so fast they seem almost like a blur, but once they have flown past my sight, I know what they contain and what happened. I can recall them in full. I’ve heard that imprinting on a mate has the same effect, and you receive a lifetime of their memories in a fleeting second.

The pieces scattered like bodies, the white king rolling to a stop at my feet. "Three months ago," Griffin said, his voice now eerily calm, "I started having dreams. About a place I'd never been. A lab in the mountains. I could see it so clearly—the layout, the equipment, the keypad sequences. When I told my therapist, she said it was trauma manifesting as dreams." He laughed, a hollow sound. "But it wasn't dreams. It was memories. Cellular memories." Maria made a wounded sound. "Griffin—" "They altered my brain development in utero," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "Enhanced memory formation. Accelerated neural plasticity. But they couldn't predict how it would manifest. Father c

“These past few days, ever since I started working for Phoenix, random memories suddenly pop into my mind, and then my head hurts. Sometimes, I even dream about them. I don’t understand why this is happening now. Why not a year and a half ago when I was desperately trying to remember my past? Why now, when I’ve already given up on trying to remember?” Blaze shrugged. “Maybe because Phoenix was a big part of your life before. Being with him every day could be triggering your memories to resurface.” He added, “You see, the brain is complex—it understands, it adapts, and it remembers. If something happens to it, it may forget thousands or even millions of memories. But they’re still there, just

Every subtle movement of his body seemed in perfect sync with his speech, as if he was effortlessly orchestrating a symphony of gestures. Despite my initial belief that I had erased these memories from my mind, it became abundantly clear that they were still very much alive within me. In a mysterious twist of fate, these memories would inexplicably disappear from sight, only to reappear moments later when the person they held dear materialized before my eyes. It was as if their presence was tethered to the memory of this individual, causing them to flicker in and out of existence, like ethereal beings caught between two realms.

Memories need to be shared with everyone so they know how powerful memories are. __________________________________ Four years later, Haru's loss was still fresh for everyone. Now Arche is facing the camera to speak, and he is being watched from every side of the world. "Mr. Arche Harrison. Today is the fourth death anniversary of your beloved woman. Why did you just now accept our invitation to interview you?" "Back then, I didn't have the strength to face everyone and I didn't have the strength to answer the questions you would ask me."