Hope, Levy, Marc [good summer reads TXT] 📗

just one rule. You promised you’d follow it.”

“I gave Flinch half my life, and I gave you the other half.”

“Now who’s talking BS?” Kasuko turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her before Luke had a chance to follow.

He walked back to his seat, typed his password into the digital terminal, and tried to interrupt restore process 102. But Neurolink wouldn’t let him.

A blinding flash of light. Sound exploding from all directions. A kaleidoscope of images that flashed by so fast, it was impossible to focus on a single one. Distorted voices in a deluge of words and snippets of phrases, and then the entire cycle was repeated.

Fifty hours after the sequence had been initiated, Melly’s body began twitching. Her memory-restore rate had hit the 30 percent mark and was rising. Her brain was regaining its cognitive functions.

The terminal in her room was set to continuously record her vital signs: the electrical activity levels were rising as they should; the transfer rate was holding steady. Slowly but surely, her awareness levels were climbing. Everything was running exactly as it should. Neurolink had everything under control.

At 08:17 on the third day, her recovery rate hit 43.2 percent.

At 12:17 on the fourth day, Melly’s eyelids fluttered briefly as the restore process hit 60 percent.

At 21:37 the following day, a full five days, thirteen hours, and twenty minutes after the procedure was launched, the doctor removed her tracheal intubation probe. Melly’s lungs had started to work without assistance, and her brain-recovery level had reached 80 percent.

On Sunday, at 14:17, Melly opened her eyes to the sight of her doctor smiling down at her. He reassured her and injected her with a solution that put her to sleep. She was 90 percent restored.

At 06:50 on Monday morning, Luke, Kasuko, and the doctor stepped into her room, and seven minutes later, the technician confirmed that the sequence was complete.

The doctor gently shook Melly awake. She opened her eyes and looked up at the unknown faces staring down at her.

Luke sat at the foot of her bed and smiled.

“Do you know what happened?” he asked quietly.

Melly shook her head. No, she didn’t.

“Don’t worry. You were in a helicopter crash. You had a serious blow to the head. That’s all in the past now,” he reassured her. “You’re in perfect health.”

Melly looked down at her hands, moving her fingers slowly.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Barnett,” the doctor said. “You’ll soon have all your agility back.”

Melly looked at him curiously. It was clear from her expression that she had no idea what he was talking about. The doctor’s mouth fell open as he moved toward the bed.

“Don’t you remember? You’re a pianist.”

Melly looked away toward the window, sadness inching its way over her features. The doctor checked his tablet, searching in vain to understand why his patient was reacting like this.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Melly didn’t say a word. The doctor leaned in to whisper in Luke’s ear. Should they say more?

Luke cleared his throat.

“Ten years ago, your doctor signed you up to the Neurolink program. Since then, every year without fail, you’ve come here to upload and save your memory.”

“The memory we just restored you with is from eleven months ago,” the doctor added. “It all went smoothly, and you should now remember everything you ever experienced from before that recording. Patients are usually a little more cognizant when they wake up, but I’m sure things will be back to normal soon.”

“When did this accident happen?” Melly asked.

Luke and Kasuko left the doctor to answer Melly’s questions and shut themselves in an empty room next door.

“What did you do?” Kasuko asked.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault. Neurolink took over. It denied me access. That goddamn AI just does whatever the hell it likes!”

“The results show up normal, but the patient doesn’t remember a thing. Even our very first subjects were more aware of past events when they were woken up.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Luke sighed. “I have no clue what just happened in there. And I have no clue what happens next. I’m telling you, Neurolink did its own thing.”

“I don’t believe you, and I’ll tell you what happens next.” Kasuko glared. “Tomorrow, when her family sees her, you’ll need to explain to them that they paid a million dollars for us to wipe clean their daughter’s memory, when they thought they spent a million dollars on making sure the exact opposite happened if she ever had an accident. It’s the whole point of the program! Get ready for the lawsuits, because they’re coming.”

“Right now, we aren’t going to explain anything except the fact that their daughter’s memory is a little slow to get started. The anomaly you saw might not be what you think.”

“Oh, that’d be handy, am I right?”

“That’s unfair. And you heard the doctor. Things will get back to normal.”

“You actually believe the crap he said in there?”

“When she came to us, she was brain dead. Now, she’s awake. She’s got her motor skills. She can see. She can hear. She talks, and she even asks questions. That shows she’s operational. Let’s wait to see what the score is at the end of her rehabilitation therapy.”

“I was the one who dealt with Mr. Barnett when he signed up for our second-life insurance,” Kasuko snapped. “Good luck trying to explain all that to him. I sure as hell won’t be helping you.”

Luke grabbed Kasuko’s hand.

“Look, I know you’re disappointed. I am too,” he sighed. “I had been dreaming of that moment for so long.”

When Harold and Betsy Barnett stepped into the room, Melly wondered who they were. Why were they here? Why was a woman kneeling in front of her, her eyes brimming with tears? And why was the man stroking her hand so softly, as moved as the woman, although his eyes were dry? Every time one of them asked her a question, she