Say "play now"

Without a care in the world, Julie enjoys the vistas of the ocean from the rear seat in a sporty sedan. Pushing a button, the seat reclines, affording her a better view from the larger rear window. Relaxing against the buttery soft leather seats, she continues to visually follow the vapor trail of a multi-passenger space launch in the distance. She smiles as its expanding plume begins to take the shape of a large sperm whale swimming its way across the evening sky. The airship’s en route to circle the earth three times. 

Recent breakthroughs in rocket propulsion have brought the cost in line with other earth bound flights. The trip has become an exotic amusement park ride billed to duplicate John Glenn’s initial space voyage in ‘62.

The two-lane road on which she’s traveling is in gross disrepair. Between the ruts and challenging turns, the car remains at a low speed. The road is precariously perched on a mountainside offering an impressive view. The small shoulder raises her anxiety each time her vehicle rounds a corner, hoping, but not certain, two cars can actually pass.

“Hey, do me a favor,” she calls out to the driver. “Keep it tight to the right side of the lane… Ok?”

Getting no response, she leans forward and is shocked to see there was no driver.

“What the…” she blurted.

Hummmm, Hummmm, Hummmm.

 

A loud oscillating sound takes Julie by surprise. It’s unlike any roadway signal she’s ever heard. Rounding a corner, she observes what must be a crossing of some type. She decides the noise must be a warning that a train is near. Perhaps, some research study found it better at capturing someone’s attention.

“Well, it worked for me,” she mused and shook her head.

The car slows to a crawl.

“How’s it doing that?” she marveled.

 

Hummmmmm, Hummmmmm.     The sound grows in intensity.

 

She’s surprised the gate has not yet gone down to block the road. The car comes to a stop nonetheless. Julie finds herself admiring the car’s cautious approach.

“Nice, no need to take chances,” Julie utters while casting her gaze to the front seat – cautiously hoping for a response that never came. 

“Who are you talking to?” she said aloud as she raised both arms, palms up and spread widely.

Christ, let’s get a grip, Julie silently admonished herself.

Craning her head to the right in an effort to see down the track, Julie finds no train in sight.

A new realization takes hold. Where would the train go? The tracks stop at the cliff to her left.

 

Hummmmmmmm, Hummmmmmmm.

 

Julie wakes. She reaches out to the bedside table and impulsively strikes the top of the offending clock. The room is quiet. Light is streaming in from a gap in the curtains that fill the entire wall.

Glancing about, she fails to recognize her surroundings. Dulled from sleep, she rubs her face and then stretches her arms and legs. Throwing off her covers, she swings her feet to the floor.

She curls her toes, enjoying the feeling of a plush, soft carpet.

“Where am I,” she mumbles as she stands.

Motivated by an urge to pee, she walks through an open doorway to her right. A motion sensor is triggered. The bathroom is flooded with a bright light. Taken by surprise, her hands fly to her face, shielding her eyes.

After recovering from the visual assault, she removes her hands and is immediately confronted with what appears to be a 3D image floating in the mirror. Julie is overtaken by a sense of utter confusion on viewing the message. Three words on two lines come into focus… it’s an instruction.

Say “play now”

Julie shakes her head and rubs her eyes. The message is still there, floating in the mirror.

Unable to resist, she follows the command and speaks, “Play now.”

She jumps in a startled reaction as the mirror transitions to a high-definition video display.

“Cripes!” she exclaims, riveted to the unfolding scene.

Julie sees herself in the display sitting at a table; a pointed finger follows her gaze down a sheet of paper. 

Turning her caramel eyes to the camera, she begins speaking. The bathroom fills with a familiar voice delivered through speakers in the ceiling.

“It’s definitely me,” whispers Julie, tilting her head, “but when did I film this?”

 

“Good morning, Julie. Today, is Thursday, October 4^th, 2028. It’s imperative you listen carefully to this entire message. I made this recording last night. Just like we do every night.”

 

“Last night?” Julie’s jaw drops; an incredulous expression spreads across her face.

 

“About a year ago, we started using a daily recording to orient us each morning and importantly, remind us what we need to do to start our day.

Julie, believe me, this morning I was as clueless as you are right now. I can only imagine what it was like before we started using the recording…

Jesus… this is my third take… I still can’t decide what to call you…me… whatever…”

Her voice was dripping with the same frustration she wore on her face. The speaker took a deep breath and shook her head before continuing.

 

Julie clinched and relaxed her fists, trying to tamp down her own rising anxiety.

 

“Two years ago, you suffered a concussion from a blow to your head. You were attacked from behind. Someone struck you in an apparent robbery and left you unconscious on the sidewalk.” 

 

Julie absentmindedly reaches up and runs her hand through her hair across the back of her head. Her fingers find nothing of interest.

 

“They never learned who did it. A stranger found you passed out and brought you to Good Samaritan Hospital. You were in a coma for three days. When you woke, you had amnesia.

Listen carefully, Julie. Every time you fall asleep you lose all memory of what happened during the prior day.

It will happen again tonight when you fall asleep.”

The speaker allows the last sentence to sink in. Reaching for a glass of colored liquid, she takes a long drink. Placing the glass on the counter, she returns her view to the camera.

“I know this will be hard to absorb. Believe me it was hard for me this morning when I heard our voice on the recording tell me this same story. Some way to start your day, eh?

Your neurologist determined two things must have happened. Seems the blow erased our memory. Some things are still there… but most of our past life is gone. Simply gone… poof. But even more bizarre… we lost the ability to store new stuff in our memory. It’s like something erases our brain’s hard drive every time we fall asleep.

Apparently, I use this analogy, because for some reason we remember everything about computers. And I mean everything. We are one of the world’s premier computer analysts. But, hey, I’ll get to more about that in a minute.”

The speaker took a moment to find her place in the script again. She continued.

“Some new memories will likely come back to you today. Frankly, it was hard today for me to separate what was a real memory from the past, versus a random thought.”

The speaker looked up from the script and directly into the camera.

“Good luck with that…”

The speaker sheepishly returned her gaze to the script in her hand.

“Yeah, well, Julie, you need to make this recording tonight before you go to sleep. You’ll find the equipment on the counter in the kitchen. It’s simple to operate, just tell it what you want to do. It responds to voice prompts using an algorithm you… we developed.”

The figure in the video points at the camera and says with emphasis.

“Don’t forget to make a recording tonight before you fall asleep. Seems we learned the image on the bathroom display is the most reliable way to get us to play the recording each morning. It worked for me.

Oh, yeah, you’ll find similar images on the fridge in the kitchen and on the inside of the front door. Apparently, they’re back-ups.”

The speaker chuckles softly.

“They tell you to go to your bathroom to say play for now, but we’re working on networking the display. It’s gonna start automatically when you wake in the morning. We’ve got a prototype you’ll see in the office today. Our team’s still working out a few glitches before it can be installed. Keri’s your go-to on that one. She’s an incredibly talented developer.”

The speaker leans forward and adopts a more serious tone.

“Julie, your best friend is Sarah Gentry. You were roommates in college. She’s a good person; you can trust her. Sarah will be calling you soon.”

After raising two fingers, she continued.

“Sarah calls you twice every day. Once in the morning to see how you’re doing and once at night to make sure you made your recording. The recording was her idea by the way.

Ok, enough said, let’s get going. You’ve got an important team meeting at your office at 10 o’clock this morning. I just arranged for a car to pick you up… It’s kind of like a taxi, but you don’t have to give ‘em money. The route’s predefined and the ride’s charged automatically to your account. Oh, yeah…”

The speaker laughs.

“There’s not going to be a driver. How ‘bout that… Our company is leading the way in AI – that’s artificial intelligence. Wait ‘till you get to the office. It’ll blow you away. The car’s coordinated through the tattoo on your wrist.”

The speaker holds up her right wrist displaying the tattoo.

 

Julie glances down at her own wrist. She rubs the tattoo, which has a complex pattern occupying a two-inch square. It feels like ordinary skin.

 

“It’s a code that links you to a file in a massive database. We were the brainchild behind that too… Frankly, everything in your life is managed through that tattoo.”

The speaker starts flipping through the pages of her script.

“What else… ah, yes… there’ll be more reminders at your office. And hey, some good news, you’re the CEO of the company.”

Clicking her fingers, she pointed at the camera with wide eyes.

“Make sure you get Keri to give you the tour. The place is totally awesome.”

Shrugging her shoulders, her voice dropped an octave.

“Anyway, hopefully, you woke to the alarm I set last night and have plenty of time, but you better get ready.”

Dropping the script and slapping her palms on the tabletop, she exclaimed.

“Oh! I almost forgot. David’s an asshole. Don’t believe anything he says. He’ll be at your morning meeting.” 

Her lips curled into a snarl. Now bracing herself against the tabletop, she drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

 

“Well, I’m going to have to learn more about this David fellow,” said Julie, clinching her jaw and nodding to underscore her commitment. “It’s impressive anyone can instill that much passion in someone after only one day.”

 

Having regained her composure, the speaker continued.

“Julie, this is where I’m supposed to remind you again to make your recording tonight and offer some helpful tips.”

The speaker holds up a sheet of paper.

“You’ll find this script on your kitchen table. Seems it’s best to include the same intro, because the neurologist thinks it’s helpful to hear the same thing over and over… like maybe it’ll eventually sink in… or something like that anyway. But don’t forget to mention anything unique… uh, you know… things you learn today that will help get you started tomorrow morning.”

The speaker pauses and looks down at the table before continuing.

“Ok. I guess that’s enough… for now anyway.”

Returning her gaze to the camera, her close drips with sarcasm.

“Enjoy your day, Julie. Welcome to your new life.

Stop recording.”

 

The display vanishes; the mirror returns. Overwhelmed by the video, Julie shudders violently. Confronted by her own face in the mirror, she recognizes a look of fear.

“Jeez, can this be true?” she questions.

Fighting down the mounting anxiety, she fumbles at the faucet trying to run the cold water. Cupping her hands beneath its flow, she repeatedly splashes her face, hoping to waken herself from her nightmare, but no such luck.

She grips the counter’s edge, realizing that she’s on the verge of losing it.

Her panic is interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Seeking the source of the sound, Julie flees to the bedroom. Her gaze is drawn to a phone flashing in a charging cradle on the bedside table. Responding to a primal urge, she leaps across the bed and grabs it. 

“Hello,” she cries out frantically, “HELLO!”

“Julie, its ok. It’s me… Sarah.”