Memorize (Book One)

A Perfectly Planned Life

He felt it coming back. And with it, the guilt, the sweat, the stomachache. It was getting usual: he experienced it about once a day now. In the midst of his perfectly planned life, there would come the needles of agony. A muscle twitching in his left leg. A swelling mass of dense apprehension in his chest. A solid knot of anguish in his throat. One thing was sure: he had to hide it in the most efficient manner. He had to protect Hera. He couldn't arouse her suspicion. This would only make her suffer. This was not going to happen.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, sure... Just a bit overworked. I've got to get everything done in due time before the schedule, you see."

"Jay dear, you're not worrying 'bout it? I mean, the Process..." said Hera, shaking her long brown hair and taking Jay's hand. "I hate it when your beautiful eyes turn hazy..."

She pressed his hand down on her throat, right above her chest, where he could sense her hearbeats. It had always had the impressive effect of soothing her deeply.

"You needn't worry, I promise. We've talked about that, haven't we?"

"We have, but... I mean, I know it's been scheduled. And we know it's all for the best..."

"Listen, let's just enjoy every single second we get to experience together", replied Jay as he drew Hera into his arms ever so tenderly.

I know it's all set. I'm reaching the age of 50. But... Do I mean it, really? Processing is the best thing humanity has ever designed. It means the end of all suffering. How can I even doubt something that's been running smoothly for five centuries?

Jay Dryhten was about to be re-scheduled. His memory was going to be infected and erased. As for his body, it would be regenerated and then, he would rise again as a "new-born". The downside was that through the Process, any 50-year-old had to leave their former life, place, work, friends and family. The procedure had to be scrupulously respected. There would be no hope of return: each genetic code was filed in a global medical system called GloCo, which made it impossible for two people of the same family to ever meet again. On top of that, second-borns were also sent to various colonies outside the solar system. Astounding discoveries in terms of transportation had allowed mankind to conquer space far beyond the solar system and allow human life to settle far from planet Earth.

But I ... don't want...to leave!

It was a very structured and obedient way of life. The reward being the promise of a successful, flawless life, a regenerated body, maybe a new spouse and an exciting work in a distant colony. This prospect had won over the resistances of clinging to one's former life. Everything had grown into habit. Being re-scheduled had become part of Life itself. It was something logical, necessary. Seen under its worst angle, it was as unavoidable and untouchable as death itself. It was part of the same superior, unbeatable plan.

So that evening, normal stress was understandable. Apprehension. A tint of sadness at the prospect of good-byes. But there was hope too. The sense of duty mixed with a survival instinct. The pride of accomplishing the plan. Of being a righteous, dutiful citizen. Jay had a beautiful wife, two children. Giving birth was usually reserved, for medical and social conditions, to the first set of life, and allowed up to the age of 30. That way, every second-born only left behind them grown-up kids, and a spouse soon to become a second-born too. Under special selective conditions, second-borns were sometimes allowed to have children again.

After all, it is better than death, thought Jay.

As GloCo's motto went, it was "all for the best". Man's manic desire to control everything had reached its aim. And humans had long complied to the rule. Needless to say that resistance to the system was unthinkable. Simply not to be displayed. Simply to be broken, hidden. Annihilated.

Is it, really ?