Episode Details

(oops, i meant to schedule this for tomorrow)His Memories Bleed ThroughbyExRwoodOriginal StoryMira looked at the shrunken husk that had once been her father. He lay in a hospital bed under layers of heavy blankets, slowly forgetting how to breathe. He let out a gasp. His frail ribcage heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. Then, for a long moment, there were no breaths at all, until another rattling gasp and heave escaped his chest. The chill autumn wind seemed to breathe with him through the cracks in the windowsill.Next to the bed, Mira fidgeted on the hard wooden stool. The small bedroom was hot and stuffy; her pink sweater and gray slacks were damp with sweat. Her stomach churned at the thought that the smell of death would linger on her clothes, following her wherever she went. Her sparse lunch tried to lodge itself in her throat. Mira swallowed it back down.She frowned at her younger sister Grace, who stood behind their father's balding head. At twenty-nine, Grace still looked like a teenager. Her blue hair, red t-shirt, purple pants, and black combat boots were more suitable for a punk show at a dive bar than for a deathbed vigil.Their father's eyes opened wide. He scanned the room as if searching for something no one else could see. An old silver scar gleamed on the pale skin under his left eye. His mouth moved but no sound came out. Their father raised a trembling hand.Grasping his cold hand, Mira pressed the back of it to her hot cheek. She leaned close to her father's face and said, “It's ok, Dad. You can let go now. I love you.” She looked at her sister. “Grace, tell him—”“Cerebral net status,” Grace said out loud to her neural link. Her eyes scanned the data received by her retinal link. She then glanced at the array of microscanners and sensors hovering like a halo over her father's head. At a thought from Grace, her neural link sent a list of minor modifications to the halo. The faint blue glow turned red while it made the adjustments.“For God's sake! Tell Dad he can go!” Mira said.Grace raised her eyebrows and glanced down at her father with piercing blue eyes that matched his and Mira’s. “Stop holding on. It's your time, old man.” She turned to Mira. “How was that?”“Grace—”“What?”Their father gasped one more time and then, nothing.Mira and Grace held their breath.The hospice nurse stepped forward and placed his gloved fingers on their father's neck. Then he put his stethoscope on their father’s chest. The silence seemed to last forever.“He's gone,” he said.Mira placed her father's limp hand on the bed. Tears pooled in her eyes. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob.Grace said, “Download stats.” She scanned the readout. The corners of her mouth lifted. “Mira, I got them. It worked.”Mira shook her head. “What? How much—”Grace grinned. “Everything from the last thirty-five years!”***Mira followed Grace into her office at Cerebri Corp. She stared at the spacious room and floor-to-ceiling windows as the soundproof door slid shut behind her. While Grace was on track to become CEO, Mira was one of Cerebri Corp's many faceless, voiceless accountants, destined to be forever hidden in a tiny basement cubicle.She sat across from Grace and tried to ignore the chair as it automatically adjusted to her height and posture. Mira frowned at the walls instead; they shone a dull gray with muddy brown streaks. The luminescent coating was programmed to shimmer with a rainbow of colors that changed with the time of day, the emotions of the viewer, and myriad other factors. It was something Grace had developed when she was an undergrad. I bet she never sees any ugly colors, she thought.“I skimmed the files to get an idea of what the cerebral net was able to download,” Grace said. Her eyes were bright, her skin radiant.Mira stifled a sigh. Her eyes looked bruised and abused from two days spent crying and barely sleeping. The wall color shifted; red streaks infiltrated the brown. Her face felt hot. She took deep breaths until the red fad