Other Memory

A new story that takes place in the far future, with (mostly) all-new characters and an all-new dillemma.

Contributors:
 * A, Mori - Head writer/creator
 * ZoshiX - Editor/contributor

Special thanks to LAT for helping out by providing some ideas here and there.

Part 0 - Prophecy
He will rule his kind with an iron fist In search of what is dearly missed The worlds blood is running black Drained dry, by the Emporer Jack

Part 1 - Confirmation
A shrill, sharp tone pierced Dolce's ears. Without even opening her eyes, she instinctively reached her arm and slammed her hand down on her alarm clock. She let out a soft moan, and started rubbing her tired eyes. Although her eyes still hurt, she forced herself to open them, and look at the blank, off-white ceiling, illuminated by a single light in the middle of the small room.

Dolce let out a quiet sigh. She moved her neck ever so slightly over to her right, looking over at the wall and the calendar hanging from it. For some reason, even though she’d only just awoken, she felt she already knew what day it was. She barely needed to look at the calendar to confirm it. All days before it were crossed out with a coloured X, and the day itself had “Final Confirmation Meeting” written on it. The 23rd of Serendipity.

Dolce: Soon...

Dolce whispered to herself.

Dolce stretched her arms before rolling off her bed. She groaned tiredly before standing up and walked over to her shower; she took a quick, hot shower. She brushed her teeth and dressed herself in a pink coat and black jeans.

Dolce grabbed the backpack lying on the side of her bed. It contains all her papers and certifications, all things she’d need today. Getting approval was no easy task.

The door locked behind her on her way out. Before she left the residence building, she charged a breakfast to her account card and ate it on the way.

She had to ride a bus to get to where she wanted to go. The bus had its own security clearance, where she had to go through a metal detector to go on; to her annoyance, she had to take out most of her piercings for it, and then put them back in.

Dolce: ((At least the buses are always free to ride...))

She thought to herself. It took an hour of riding the bus to get to where she wanted to go. The whole time, she stared out the window, looking at the landscape of green grass moving along, and small, two-legged creatured with large green heads grazing through it. The green grass landscapes ended when she got to her destination.

A government building... an organizational center. It was one of many government buildings in the small area-- a sort of street block of government buildings-- though this one had its own specific purpose. There was one of these government street blocks in every district, right in the center. Every district was, much by design, designed so that you could travel from the border of the district to the center in two hours or less, by automoted vehicle-- or by the back of a horse-beast in at least twelve.

Once there, she had to check in through security to enter the building. Another turn of taking off and putting back on her piercings. It was no wonder that getting professional piercings was rare, if not almost illegal, for just this reason. She’d had to put all of the ones she had in all by herself. Thankfully, they weren’t reason enough for state officials to turn her down altogether.

Once inside, there was a waiting room and a few officials behind glass booths. It was like the waiting room at a doctor’s office. She had to sign in with the officials behind those glass booths-- give all her basic identifying information, show off her aura and such for proof that she was who she claimed to be. And then, she had to wait. There was roughly a dozen other people in the waiting room throughout the time Dolce was in there.

Dolce: ((They must all want to go somewhere else, too...))

After about four other people had been called to go back behind a steel door and a room in the back, Dolce heard her own name being called. She stood and walked towards the steel door. Some man in a suit and a mask held it open for her, and she walked through it. The man told her to go to the room across the corner and down the hall. She nodded at him, and went forward.

As she walked down the hall, she looked up at the tiled ceiling, where cameras hung from, looking at everything. They were everywhere. Dolce recognized them, in fact, the particular brand of camera was so familiar to her that it was more well-known to her than the back of her hand. Black-Out brand cameras. They were called Black-Out brand because they were orbs of a jet black, and they had their own power systems, so even in a power outage, they would still remain functioning. They hung in her room, the hallway outside it, everywhere in government buildings, on every bus and every train she’d ever been on, in the middle of streets, in the barber shop she worked at... Dolce literally had never gone anywhere that hadn’t had at least one of these cameras, looking at her at all times. She bet that many years of her life had been recorded on them continuously, and wondered if, wherever the data was being stored, it was possible to string together all the footage it had of her to make up those entire years they had been watching.

The cameras hadn’t always been watching Dolce. It had only been for under about a decade now since they first started-- just around the time that... everything else had. But ever since they had started watching, they had never, ever stopped.

A green-headed man in a suit and coat was sitting behind a desk in the room. He instructed Dolce to take a seat. She listened, and laid her backpack down by her chair. The green-headed man asked all the things she’d been asked before; all of her identifying information and such. She handed him some of her papers from her backpack, papers confirming that she’s been seen for four other meetings like this before. This was supposed to be the last one, in which she would finally gain approval for migrating to another district.

She was asked to give her reason for wishing to migrate. She was to give all the information necessary to justify her moving, as well as a convincing case that no harm or impediment would come to the government as a result of her travel. She had rehearsed parts of what she said that day in her head for weeks and weeks. The whole meeting took nearly two hours.

By the end of it, Dolce was almost nervous. But, the green-headed man wrote on his papers, and eventually confirmed to her that her request was approved. He said that she would receive her train ticket in the mail in two to four weeks, after the approved request was processed.

Dolce smiled, unable to control herself.

Dolce: Th--... thank you.

The green-headed man looked at her in a bit of surprise, but then looked back down at her papers. She was dismissed from the room.

Throughout the walk out of the building, to the bus station, and through the bus ride back to where she lived, she couldn’t help but keep smiling to herself. This was something almost a whole year in the making, that she’d finally managed to do. She was... feeling proud of herself, for the first time in a long time.

It was later in the same day. Dolce felt tired, but she felt that she had to do something more before she tried to sleep.

She went to the door of her residence building. She could see through the glass of the door to the outside, and she could tell that the sun had just recently set. The door itself wouldn’t open for anyone’s ID card unless they had a scheduled reason for leaving-- in Dolce’s case, it was usually her job at the barber shop, or the scheduled district migration meetings she had-- or if the person gave a proper reason to leave. Dolce didn’t have a scheduled reason to go outside this time, but she could give one for leaving...

Dolce scanned her card through a rectangular device near the door that glowed with a red light. It asked her reason for wishing to leave.

Dolce: I want to visit the graveyard where my parents are resting.

There was a pause. Dolce could only hear the faint, digital hum of the device in the silence. Whoever was controlling it on the other end was looking up Dolce’s information, and deciding whether or not to allow her. Every decision made by the government was based on a person’s background and likeliness of threat, as well as danger level based on recent events-- say, if a terrorist attack had recently happened, it would be much harder for people to wonder out as they pleased. As Dolce had come to notice, sometimes whether or not she would get approved to go to places such as the graveyard could depend on the temper and whim of the person who happened to be controlling the doors that day.

After a moment of silence, the device let out a soft beep. Dolce pushed open the doors, knowing she’d been approved. As she walked out of the doorway, above her, part of the building’s outside wall opened up. Hearing the rotating blades of an Escort, she looked up, and saw a familiar dark grey drone, about the size of the average green Walker, with four arms that let it fly, and a head that shone light. The Escorts only ever got used for post-sundown, non-scheduled events, Dolce knew. If an individual were to not do exactly as they had said they would do, the Escort would see it... and it would open fire.

In an act of lenience, the Escort would always fire at least one warning shot at first, then allow the person to either return to their residency building or go on doing what they said they had done. Dolce learned this the hard way, when she’d once tried stopping at a candy store when she’d said she was just going to go back to the barber shop she worked at to pick up her coat. She still felt the pain in her left foot from where the Escorts’ bullet had shot her, and the annoyance of how she then had to limp to the barber shop and back home... but, as she licked her lip piercing, she remembered that at least some good had come out of that day.

The Escort shined a beam of light down at her, as it followed her around. Dolce sighed. It would be a mile-long walk to the graveyard.

The Escort had perched on the sign above the graveyards’ gate, its blades had stopped turnings and its light turned off. The gate of the graveyard was also activated by an ID card, which sort of juxtaposed to the black iron it and the fence was made of, the the old, slightly-creepy look that it otherwise had. Then again, the fence was connected to an electrical circuit that would electrocute those who tried to jump over it, so, perhaps, Dolce thought, the illusion of an undisturbed and non-technological area wasn’t even well-maintained in such a way, anyway.

The large gate closed behind her. Dolce looked up at the back of the graveyards’ sign, where the Escort had perched upon. On the back of the sign hung a single camera, that had a view of the entire graveyard. It was the one single camera in the graveyard that watched over it. A digital voice spoke from the ID card scanner, telling her to try and not make this last more than half an hour. Dolce grumbled to herself in response.

Dolce: ... whatever...

She walked over to the middle-right quadrant of the graveyard. There stood two grey, stone crosses, both atop pedastals. The words carved into the stone pedastals, much like many other things in Dolce’s life, Dolce knew by heart.

Dolce: ((Then again, if you make something yourself, it logically makes sense that you’d remember it well...))

MARIO TELOPE ANATH LOVING FATHER AND HUSBAND 3978 AEQ - 4015 AEQ

BETTY BLUEBIRD ANATH LOVING MOTHER AND WIFE 3979 AEQ - 4015 AEQ

Dolce: Mom... dad... I’m here.

Dolce felt a lump in her throat. She sat on her knees, in the dirt of the ground before the two gravestones.

Dolce: I miss you guys...

It had been just over three years since they died.

Dolce’s parents loved another truly. Dolce remembered how pure and honest their love was, they were practically infatuated with each other, and they made one another so happy. And they also loved her very much.

Dolce had known a time without Escorts, without ID cards and scanners, even without the cameras. But for sixteen years of her life, she had never known a time without her parents. They had always been there for her, always caring for her... until that one day.

Dolce’s parents were happy people. They wanted to be free, and they wanted others to be free, too. So it had only made sense that they’d organize meetings and protests opposing the tyrannical government. But the people and systems they protested against didn’t take kindly to that. There was a time before the Escorts were around, where her parents used to meet with others. But they were eventually found out.

Dolce was told that they didn’t stop resisting until the end. When a powerful government officer told them to stand down and submit, they refused. And so, he struck them both down. The man apparently hit them like a train, killing them both on impact. Now that Dolce could think about the time without getting as emotional, she was at least thankful that they died immediately, rather than ever have to suffer in pain.

Dolce looked up at the gravestones again, staring at them in silence. She let out a sorrowful sigh, and continued staying still for a minute longer.

Eventually, a familiar, rough voice spoke from the darkness.

Grylos: Alright, the audio’s been obstructed. They can’t hear us now.

Dolce blinked, then slowly started to stand up.

Grylos: Hey, don’t stand up!

Grylos hissed commandingly.

Grylos: I said the audio has been obstructed. They can still see us. If you look like you’re about to leave but don’t move anywhere, it might raise suspicion. Stay sitting, look like you’re still talking to your dead parents. They won’t know anything’s gone wrong.

There was a darkness behind her parents’ gravestones. It wasn’t the normal darkness of the night, but, rather, a different sort of darkness. Sort of a... blankness, existing before her. Dolce nodded slightly.

Even though there was darkness there, Dolce knew that there was a person standing there. A tall, tan boy, slightly younger than herself, with messy black hair, a rust outfit, and a cane. His voice was a touch of soothing, in a way that could convey logic and calmness, but also commanding and rough, in a way that could demand obediance and fear.

Dolce tsked.

Dolce: It took you long enough to deactivate it...

Dolce knew about the special kind of magic that Grylos was capable of. He seemed to specialize in magic of darkness and illusion... he could hide in a shadow, control the minds of the weak-willed, and he could even remotely alter technology such as those cameras to make it stop working properly, but not seem to be malfunctioning in any way by any person who might be observing it. While the camera itself would stop picking up the real sound in the graveyard, whoever may be monitering the graveyard at the time would just hear something unsuspicious and think nothing of it.

Grylos scoffed. Even though she couldn’t see it, Dolce could feel him smirking slightly.

Grylos: I just wanted to hear you finish your sad little story to your parents this time. Don’t think I’m getting any worse at this.

Dolce: Yeah, I don’t think I need to worry about that, do I? You’re not even in your prime yet, and it’s not like this tech ever gets updated unless something big happens.

Grylos: I’m not in my prime yet? When do you think my prime is?

Dolce: ... I think I read that a gridmask’s mental and physical abilities peak in of after their mid-twenties. Most of them, at least. You peak at a lot of other stuff at different times, but usually it’s more scattered around ages.

Grylos coughed quietly.

Grylos: ... Enough small talk, now. How did your meeting today go?

Dolce smiled, once again hit with another wave of pride. She was so happy to finally announced to Grylos that his plan, years in the making, was going to see progress to a big milestone.

Dolce: Good. I got approved. They’re going to send me a train pass to the Hub in a couple of weeks.

Grylos: Heheheh. Fantastic.

Dolce: I also told them that I’d be trying to move in with my cousin... I thought that family ties would make them more sympathetic to having me move there.

Dolce had sent many monitered letters to her cousin, Blake. He lived in the city-state that she was intending to move to.

Dolce: I haven’t told my cousin about our plans, yet... but I...

Dolce noticed that she was starting to work up a nervous sweat, even though it was cold during the night. She quickly wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her coat. She cleared her throat, and began speaking again.

Dolce: I think that if we could talk to him, he’d be willing to join us. Do you think that w--would be fine?

Due to the fact that every letter she might ever send to her cousin would be read and seen by the government, she could never dare to divulge any information about her plans within them. If she did, then she knew it would be forfeit. However, she wasn’t sure how exactly Grylos would react to the idea. After all, Grylos has killed everyone else who ever knew about the alliance between her and himself.

Dolce awaited anxiously for Grylos to answer. She could feel Grylos’ stare on her face.

Grylos: Whatever. But you know that if he turns on me, he’s dead. Got that?

Dolce: Y--y--yes.

Grylos: And the same goes for you, too, if you end up trying to blow this thing just to be a safe, obediant little slave, girl.

Dolce: You know I’ve already made up my mind.

Dolce could feel Grylos’ face twisting into a sinister grin.

Grylos: Good girl.

Dolce: Uhh-- um, one more thing... how do you plan to get on the train with me without getting caught? There won’t just be cameras on the way there, there’s going to be officers, and other people, too.

Grylos smiled.

Grylos: Just come to me after you get your train ticket. I can go with you without being noticed. I’m definitely not going to have anything see me.

Dolce didn’t know what he meant by that... but she felt that she knew by now not to question him. She felt that Grylos could do anything he wanted, if ever he wanted to do it.

Grylos: Now, unless you have anything else to say to me...?

Grylos spoke in a questioning tone.

Dolce: Nope.

Grylos: Then you should go home. We’ll see each other soon. And remember-- if you even so much as think of going on that train without me... you’re going to end up like these two. Only there won’t be anyone to give you a gravestone.

Dolce gulped.

Dolce: Understood.

Dolce stood up, and turned back to the entrance of the graveyard. She went back to her home with the Escort, went to her room, and laid down on her bed.

Throughout the night, she couldn’t help but imagine what Grylos said, how he threatened her...

And she couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she wanted to do that to the one who had killed her parents.