Young Writers Society

As You Know

I awake to the sound of footsteps. I open my eyes, but all I can see is the white-ish haze of light through

bandages. “Hello?” I ask, “Who’s there?” I hear a metallic clash as something hits the floor and a woman’s

voice call “Doctor! he’s awake!”

I reach up to take the bandages off but my hands are tied. I try to shake the bonds off but they’re stuck to the

bed. As I continue to fight the restraints I hear footsteps coming down the hall and into the room.

“What’s going on?” I yell.

“Calm down, just calm down” the man says. “My name is Dr. Jacobi and you’re in a hospital.”

“Then why am I tied up?”

“I’ll explain everything in time, the best thing you can do right now is calm down.”

I have so many more questions to ask but Jacobi must have put something in my IV, because my vision starts to fade and I fall into a deep sleep. When I wake up again the bandages are off and I can see that I’m in a plain, but well furnished, hospital room. Someone must have been watching because just a few minutes after later Jacobi came in.

“Why did you drug me before?” I ask.

“Well, you just get right to the point! I had to drug you because we weren’t ready for you to wake up; some of the stitches needed to be removed and your face was still healing. After what happened the first time you awoke the restraints seemed prudent.” Jacobi replies.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry, it was nothing serious; about two weeks ago you momentarily woke up and nearly injured yourself trying to get out of bed. And to answer your next question, you were in a car accident, it was bad but you managed to pull through. Unfortunately your temporal lobe, particularly the area around the hippocampus, was damaged.”

“But I’m fine now, right?” I interrupt.

“We don’t know I was waiting for you to wake up so you could tell us. If you’re feeling up to it I’d like to ask you some simple questions,” said Jacobi.

“Yeah, I guess that would be alright.”

“Can you tell me your name?” He waited for me to respond, but I said nothing. There was nothing to say. “Do you remember what your name is?” He asked again, more gently this time.

“I . . . I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

“That’s okay; some memory loss is to be expected. What’s important is finding out how extensive it is, would you mind answering a few questions?”

The questions were standard, how old am I, where was I born, what year is it, who is president. All of them drew a blank. Jacobi scribbled something down, and then looked up at me.

“The damage seems to be more extensive than we thought, it seems like the part of your brain that stores your memory, just stopped communicating with the rest of your brain. But, don’t worry; we have some of the best neurologists in the country at this facility.”

I spend the next few days walking around and meeting with a therapist to slowly build up my strength. On the fourth day Dr. Jacobi comes in.

“Ah, Leo how are you feeling today?” he asks.

“Fine” I respond. “The injections the therapist has been giving me are really helping and she says I should be back to normal within a week, or so.”

“Good, good. You’re progressing far ahead of schedule and I believe you’re ready for the second phase of your treatment. It’s still experimental but it should help you recover some of the memory you’ve lost. It’s a small device called the “As You Know” or AYK for short.

It’s actually made up of two devices one of which sits directly in your temporal lobe so that it can stimulate memories directl-”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “How can you stimulate my memory if the temporal lobe was damaged?”

“If you let me finish I was going to explain that” Jacobi replies, sounding rather annoyed. “See your memory isn’t gone per-say but your brain just can’t access it, that’s where the AYK comes in. It reads your memory, then feeds it back to you, hopefully in a form your brain can understand. Now the second part of the device is an ear piece which receives a signal directly from the piece in your brain and it will tell you what part of your memory is being stimulated. This is purely for your safety, I’ve been told that the process is. . . uncomfortable to say the least.”

“Okay, one last question. If you can use this thing to stimulate my memory why didn’t you do it already?” I ask.

“Your mother authorized the procedure while you were still unconscious, but we didn’t know the extent of your memory loss, so we decided to wait before taking any drastic action. Since you’re awake now, we need your approval before proceeding.”

“You have it,” I reply, almost without thinking.

“Excellent, we’ll start prepping for the surgery immediately.”

I’m wheeled into surgery the next day, and the AYK is implanted. I spend two weeks making sure the AYK is working correctly and becoming accustomed to it. On the Monday of the third week Jacobi comes to visit me.

“The technician has informed me that you are making excellent progress with the AYK and he has cleared you to go home” Jacobi announces.

Within a few hours I’m back in a set of normal clothes and sitting in the hospital waiting room when I see a woman. She is probably in her late fifties with short black hair that’s only starting to turn gray. Once I see her face the AYK boots up.

“Uploading: Cecilia Brenack” it announces in a tinny voice.

And then I remember. All of the cold winter nights, all of the hazy summer afternoons, every skinned knee, and every family dinner. I fall to the ground as a sharp pain pierces my temple, and she rushes over to hug me.

“Mom” I whisper, barely able to hold back the tears of joy and pain.

“My dear Leo, I was so worried about you” she says, her voice quavering.

Then she breaks down. Then I break down. And there we are standing in the middle of the hospital lobby balling our eyes out; but there’s something else, another woman. A tall thin woman wearing a blue dress, I remember her for just a second before she’s gone. My head begins to ache. After a few minutes we walk out to the car and Cecilia takes me home.

The house is a generic gray house with green shutters; but as I step out of the car the AYK starts up again.

“Uploading: 1367 Cobble Rd.” it announces.

I remember. Climbing in the tree out back, chasing my sister with the hose, playing catch with the dog and countless other things. I also see something else, a small blue house with a sloping lawn and . . . something else but I can’t remember.

It’s gone.

My headache is worse now; I can barely make it inside before I fall asleep on the couch. I find myself in a great hall, I can’t see the front or back of it, I can’t see color of any kind, only gray. I wander the halls for what seems like hours, then I see her, The Woman in Blue. I try to get closer but then I wake up. Dr. Jacobi and my mother are standing next to the couch.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine; I just needed to take a quick nap. What time is it?” I reply.

“Leo, you’ve been asleep for the last day and a half,” my mother says, sounding rather worried.

“Well he appears to be fine now” Jacobi says after giving me a quick check up. “Is there anything unusual going on?”

“Well I have a pretty bad headache.”

“That’s to be expected, I told you the AYK would have some unpleasant side effects. Just take some pain pills, a glass of water and you’ll be alright,” Jacobi says as he gets up to leave.

After taking some aspirin I get up to have a look around. I’m in the hallway looking at some pictures when my eye lands on a picture of a girl in her mid teens, I reach for the picture when AYK boots up.

“Uploading: Natalie Brenack”

I can see her. My twin sister, she’s so beautiful. I can remember all the games we played, the summers we spent together but then, something else, a screeching car and a doctor saying she won’t make it. She’s dead. I begin to cry again, Cecilia hears me and runs into the hall. I explain what happened; she begins to cry as well. My head continues to pound.

The rest of the day is a blur; all I can remember is a scrap book and the pounding in my head. I crawl into bed that night and fall asleep almost immediately. I find myself back in the great gray hall; The Woman in Blue is standing in front of me. I try to go up to her, but she runs. I try chase her, but soon get lost; then I wake up. I get up then I see her, under the big tree across the street, The Woman in Blue, I blink and she’s gone again.

Around noon Cecilia takes me back to what was my apartment. As soon as I see the door the AYK starts up.

“Uploading 450 East Leaf St. Apt 17”

This is my life, this small apartment, the old couch, dirty bathroom and windowless bedroom. My head aches worse than ever. As soon as mother leaves I crash on the bed and go to sleep. I’m back in the great gray hall; The Woman in Blue is nowhere to be seen. I look in front of me and there’s a great throne with a gray man sitting on it. I approach the throne and see the man isn’t gray. He’s black and white, so intertwined you could never separate them. I call out to him but then I wake up. The Woman in Blue is standing over me, she’s trying to say something but I can’t make it out and then she’s gone.

I get up and go to work. Thanks to the AYK I remember everything but it’s still awkward to be back. Nobody seems to remember me, and those that do aren’t showing it. The next few days are uneventful, but the headache is constant now and pills aren’t helping anymore. All out of options I call Dr. Jacobi.

“Hello?” the receptionist says.

“Hi, my name is Leo Brenack and I’m looking for Dr. Jacobi” I reply.

“Dr. Jacobi isn’t taking any calls toda- Wait what did you say your name was?”

“Leo Brenack.”

“Can I put you on hold?”

About two minutes later, I hear Dr. Jacobi’s voice.

“Hey Leo, how are you feeling today? Is the AYK working?”

“Yeah AYK is working fine but the side effects just aren’t going away, my head hurts worse than ever.”

“Hmm . . . Stay there, I’ll be right over.”

I hear a knock at the door, to my surprise it’s only been ten minutes. Expecting Jacobi I hurry to answer it, but when I open the door no one’s there. Now my apartment is at the end of a long hallway, the nearest corner or publicly accessible door is at least ninety feet away, so I don’t see how someone could have knocked then disappeared in the two seconds it took me to open the door. I’m still in the hall pondering this when Jacobi steps out of the elevator.

“I could have just knocked” he remarks sarcastically.

“I was just standing here -- alone -- for -- no reason” I mumble.

“You’re in worse shape than I thought” he replies in the same sarcastic tone.

We walk inside, he asks me about the symptoms. I describe the headaches and tiredness but when I mention the dreams his normally amiable expression changes to one of alarm, but it’s only there for a second and then it’s gone. After giving me a check up and jotting down a few notes he leaves, but not before handing me a bottle of pills with instructions to take two every day and call him the minute my condition changes.

Within minutes of taking the pills my headache is gone and I can go to work. The next few days are uneventful; I get up, go to work then come home. The only odd thing is I haven’t been dreaming at all.

About two weeks after my visit from Jacobi I find a note on my desk. All it says is this:

“Don’t trust him”

The hand writing is neat and somehow familiar. Like having a word on the tip of your tongue, I know I’ve seen it before but can’t remember where. I spend the rest of the day thinking about the note but as I’m getting up to leave a man comes up to me.

“Hey, uh, Leo right? Well some people are having a going away party for Ted in marketing. Now I know you didn’t know him but this could be a good opportunity to get reconnected since you’ve been out of it for awhile. You don’t have to come but we’ll be at O’Flannery’s Pub down by the Fourth St. Bridge if you want to join us.” He says all this rather hurriedly before handing me a note with the address on it.

I get to the pub and everyone’s there. I try to find someone to talk to but it’s futile. No one remembers me, or if they do they just don’t care. All alone I go up to the bar and order a drink, I’m not supposed to drink while on the pills, but one beer can’t hurt anything.

The next thing I remember is waking up on the bathroom floor in my apartment with a splitting headache. The bottle of pills is empty next to me. As I try to get myself up I notice there’s a note jammed in the mirror.

“I got rid of them for you.”

As I examine it more closely I notice the handwriting is the same as the note I found in my office, the note even appears to be on the same type of paper. I try to make it to the phone to call Jacobi but the headache worsens and I collapse on the couch.

The days blur together, all I remember are the dreams and the pounding in my head. I find myself back in the Great Gray Hall; the gray man is sitting in front of me. He’s wearing a mask of my face and he’s crying. The Woman in Blue appears behind me I turn to look at her and try to say something but she touches my lips and I’m silent.

I wake up. T

here’s a note on my night stand.

“Truth lies within.”

The handwriting is the same as the other notes and there’s an address written at the bottom. Still suffering from a headache and desperate for some kind of answer I drag myself out of bed and drive to the address. It’s the blue house. The windows are boarded over and the lawn is over grown, but it’s the house that I remembered. The Woman in Blue is standing on the porch, she’s motioning me inside and I follow her. I see a picture on the wall, it’s The Woman in Blue and someone else a -- man. I’ve seen him before, I know him. The pain in my head is unbearable now; I sink to the ground and pass out.

I find myself back in the Great Gray Hall. The Woman in Blue is standing in front of me. She touches my eyes and I can see. The hall begins to buckle around me, I struggle to keep my balance but the tremor soon passes. As I look around I see the tremor shifted the walls, instead of the hall being a solid gray I can see cracks. The walls aren’t gray; they’re black and white, forced over one another. The crying man is two, the man in black and the man in white. The Man in White has my face, I look at the Man in Black, I’ve seen him before, and I know him. He’s the man from the pictures, he’s also me. I understand now, this isn’t me.

I wake up.

The Woman in Blue is standing next to me, she helps me up. I understand now. She’s been trying to help me see the truth, to save me. The pain continues, I walk to what used to be the kitchen. There’s a cabinet above the sink, I open it and there’s a gun. I check; three bullets left. I walk into the dining room and sit down at the table.

They’re here too.

“You don’t have to do this, there’s another way. Just put the gun away and I can help you” The Woman in Blue says. Funny, I’ve heard her voice before.

“Listen to her, she only wants what’s best for you” the Man in White says.

“Stay off my side you worthless piece of shit!” she yells, flying into a rage, “This entire thing is your fault!”

“So hostile, we both want the same thing” the Man in White coolly replies.

“You only care about his body, you just want a vessel.”

“Well of course I do, it’s only human. I don’t want to die and I will do whatever it takes to keep on living. If that means sacrificing his life, so be it. And, in your own way, you’re doing the same. Are we really so different?”

“You’re trying to destroy him, erase everything he ever was!”

“And you’re not?”

“What are you talking about? Everything I’ve done has been to save him!”

“Shut up both of you.” The Man in Black interrupted, “You, one ‘Leo Brenack’, you’re just a chip in his head, whatever humanity you had was lost a long time ago.” Turning to The Woman in Blue he continued “And you, you don't even an exist, you're a figment, a phantom. An idealization.”

I began to say something but the Man in Black turned to me.

“This must be incredibly confusing for you, let me fix that.”

The Woman in Blue and the Man in White try to stop him but with a snap of his fingers they’re gone.

He touched my forehead and then I remembered. I remember The Woman in Blue her name is, or was,

Genna Stanton she was my wife. We were so happy, then, I don’t know what happened it just . . . stopped. We started fighting, long nights of drinking, dreading seeing her again. All leading up to that night. I was driving and we were fighting.

Didn’t see it.

But there it was.

Now she’s dead.

“Now you remember, after she died you, or should I say we, never recovered. The Woman in Blue is just our mind trying to protect itself from taking responsibility for our thoughts and actions.”

“I still don’t—“I try to say, but the Man in Black continues.

“The really sad thing is you still don’t remember what actually happened that night.”

“I do, it was – it was raining, we were fighting and I must have drifted out of the lane, I didn’t see the truck until it was too late.”

“Close, but wrong. You didn’t drift over, you saw truck and in that split second you made a decision, one fueled by the heat of moment, but a decision all same. You crashed on purpose.”

“That’s—that’s impossible, I would never do that.”

“That’s her talking.” The man in Black says in the same dead monotone.

“I didn’t, I mean I wouldn’t – that could never. . . Oh my god.”

“The worst punishment is being forced to live with oneself and that’s what we did. Five years alone in a tiny cement room.”

“Why don’t I remember that?”

“You couldn’t handle the guilt and that’s where she came from, she helped you forget and live with yourself. When they asked for volunteers for an experiment she saw a chance to ‘fix’ it, to make you forget.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“We’ve done horrible things. Someone has to pay, no matter what she says Genna’s still dead and it’s your fault.”

I pick up the gun feeling the weight of the cold metal in my hand.

“That’s it, someone has to pay for her death.”

I put the gun to my head.

“This is your only escape” The Man in Black almost purred.

They’re all here again. I can tell the Woman in Blue is trying to stop me but nothing happens. She’s just standing there, silently pleading with me to put the gun down.

I raise the gun and point it at the Man in Black’s chest. I pull the trigger, the shock rattles through my arm and he falls over dead. I turn the barrel to the Man in White and pull the trigger again.

The Woman in Blue walks over to me.

“Do you have an idea what you’ve done?”

“I made a choice.”

“Do you know what happens now?”

“Yes… and before I go I just want to say I’m sorry for everything, it probably doesn’t mean anything now. I just wanted you to know.”

With tears in her eyes she leans in to kiss me

As pieces

Begin

To

Fall

Away.

Notes from the personal files of Dr. J.C. Jacobi:

The Brenack experiment was a failure, despite the help of Cecilia, the AYK and the latest memory suppressors; our consciousness rewrite experiment failed. Subject Walter Stanton (Aka: Leo Brenack) was found dead in his previous residence next to a recently fired gun. Subject did not suffer a gunshot wound.

Cause of death and the location of the two recently fired bullets are still unknown.

The AYK recorded a severe spike in brain activity consistent with REM sleep in the days leading up to subject’s death. Just like all the other subjects it appears as though Stanton was in a deep state of REM sleep when death occurred.

How subject found his previous home is still unknown.

Recommendations:

Further subjects should be kept under close watch and should be hospitalized immediately if they report having any kind of reoccurring dream.

Experiment number:

Bre-16

Status:

Terminated