Stolen Memories (Book 3 of the Magical Machine series)
When Plans Fall into the Burning Pits of Hell

Patrick looks so peaceful in his sleep And Azalea looks beautiful with hair down, and he head cradled against Patrick’s chest.

Can I actually do this?

Patrick begged me not to. He swore that this was the worst choice.

“If you erase my memories, promise me that you’ll also erase Azalea’s.” He’d made me promise that night. I think drunk him was telling the truth more than he is now. I think he’s lying to me because he’s afraid.

He’s been so kind to me. He’s supported my goals. This is wrong. I can’t do this. I can’t take his memories.

No. This is the only way. I have to do this. I’m sorry Patrick. I know I promised you more time, but there are people dying in the streets. There is a war to live going on down there, and I am a freedom fighter for the orphans and the poor.

I’m so sorry for lying to you, but at least we are even now? Now we’ve both lied to each other. I reach out my hands, and I pull the memories into me. Two different lives coming in at once, I see flashes and pieces as I drain their memories. I pull until all the memories are gone. They will wake up and know nothing. They probably won’t even know who they are, or why they are in the same bed.

You are standing there, looking at me with your eyebrows furrowed in an expression of pain, or maybe you are upset with me. It doesn’t matter what you think though. It’s done. I can’t go back now. I made up my mind to fight for the people.

I close their door, letting the lock click and lock me out. Of course, the camera in the hallway sees none of this. The door was never opened according to the camera.

I sneak over to Patrick’s father, Raymond’s, room. I pick the lock quickly, and slip in to replace the man calmly asleep in his room. He has a night time African Savannah illusion gently illuminating his room. I walk through the illusionary grass, and stop next to him, pulling the memories from him. So many memories. Good, bad, awful. I could see him, looking down on the people he spoke to, manipulating them by saying what they wanted to hear. I could see him, plotting out the fall of his political rivals. I could see him as a child, his father drilling him relentlessly on how proper table manners work.

In the end, I am just a receptacle for old memories. They are read in, and I turn them into nothing more than after images left behind.

Now, it’s time to sleep till morning. I lock the door, and sneak back to my room keeping my carefully crafted screen around me.

By the time I am back, lying in my bed, I let the exhaustion of using my power overcome me, and slip off into the world of dreams. Tomorrow, I shall bring pain to the pillar of power. Tomorrow I will destroy the world and then rebuild it.

Melanie shakes me awake. “Melanie?”

“You know me!? Thank you. Thank you.”

“Melanie, what are you talking about? Of course I know you.”

She starts sobbing, pulling me close to her and hugging me, before pulling back and wiping her eyes on her sleeves.

“It’s Master Patrick and Mistress Azalea, they don’t know anyone, not even each other. They freaked out when they woke up this morning. And then, I went to wake the Master McNeil, but he didn’t even know who I was. He ordered me to get out of his room and at the same time demanded to know where he was, and what was going on.”

“What? This sounds, well highly implausible. Melanie, are you playing a joke on me?”

She shakes her head fervently, “No, I wouldn’t do that. They seem to have lost their memories, just like…”

She drifts off, her statement hanging in the air, but she is looking around the room as if she thinks it will attack her.

She leans in close to me. “It is said that in the lower levels of the city, there’s a disease that eats your memories. I fear…”

“Nonsense Melanie. There must be a logical explanation for this. I will personally look into this.”

You are glaring at me. Do you dislike the fact that I am lying to Melanie or that I have stolen the memories from this family. It doesn’t matter either way. What’s done is done, and now I have to see this path through.

I slip out of bed, and Melanie hands me a plain, simple purple colored gown. No, my memories tell me that it is plum colored. A little darker tan pure purple.

Melanie is pulling me forward, dragging me to face what I have done.

The three family members are in the dining room, each with a guard standing next to them.

“Can someone tell me what is going on!” Master McNeil shouts.

“Sir, its breakfast time. We are simply bringing you breakfast.”

“Who are these people? What is going on? Where am I?” Azalea is muttering to herself.

Patrick isn’t speaking. He is just sitting there, quietly, starring at the table.

Give me a little more time to come up with a better solution. Please, just trust me.

I’ve betrayed him. I need to use him though. I need to control him. I will talk to him later. I will explain things in a way that will work in my favor.

Whatever you do, if you chose to take my memories, don’t return them.

I wouldn’t. I’d help him build new memories. I’d help them all.

Well, Maybe not Raymond McNeil. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

I walk around the table to sit next to Azalea.

“Hi Azalea.”

She looks at me blankly. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes. You’re names Azalea, right?” A name forms an identity. Much like my identity before and after the memory machine.

Her eyebrow furrow in thought. “I guess if you say so. Azalea. My… name.”

“What’s my name?” Patrick interrupts my conversation with Azalea. He looks like he suspects me of something. I’m not sure what he suspects me of though. He doesn’t even know who I am right now.

“You are Patrick, and you are married to Azalea.”

She blushes and turns away; probably remembering waking up in the arms of a stranger.

“Married?” He asks. He doesn’t look confused though. He is staring at me, and he looks like his brain is working in overtime processing things. Yes, I will need him at my side. He seems to even understand his own situation.

“You know, up bonded. Together. In love. That type of thing.” I can’t think of a better way to explain it. Maybe he doesn’t understand the word, or maybe he was questioning his relationship with Azalea.

“It seems you tell the truth. She is quite beautiful,” he states quite bluntly. I wonder if his bluntness will disappear as he develops more memories, or if this is a part of himself that he has hidden away.

Azalea looks highly uncomfortable, as if she doesn’t know how to react or respond. The loss of memories seems to be confusing her more than Patrick. And Patrick’s father.

Patrick’s father is demanding things as if he know this domain is his kingdom, and nothing else matters to him. I won’t mess with him. He can rule his little household for the rest of his days as a mentally insane person or something, if I don’t kill him first. The man just feels slimy. I want to force him to go live on the streets eating scraps.

“So girl with the knowledge of whom we are, what is your name?”

“Hope. My name is Hope.”

“And Hope, do you know why our memories are gone?” Patrick bites deep into the root of the problem.

Does he already suspect me? No. He doesn’t know about my power in his current state.

A hand grips my shoulder, and I look over to see Melanie standing next to me. “I asked her to look into it. She’s been your house guest for a couple weeks now, and I thought maybe she might think of what caused it.”

“It is very strange. It’s as if all of you suddenly lost your memories of your life, but you all still have knowledge of words and your personalities. It’s like, umm.” What was the word I was looking for? I searched my memory banks until I heard it mentioned in reference to some of my prior victims. “It’s like all of you have amnesia.”

“The memory disease. It has to be!” Melanie exclaims.

I shake my head, “There has to be a logical explanation. There can’t exist a disease that suddenly destroy your memories. It simply isn’t possible.”

Patrick nods, “What you say sounds reasonable, but maybe someone should look into it being a disease. It seems very strange that I suddenly can’t remember anything.”

Now is my chance to get back to the Pillar of Power. “We should ask the city officials to look into this strange occurrence. Hopefully it’s only temporary.” I gasp as if I’ve come to a sudden realization. “The other leaders of the city and the state! I wonder if they are ok.”

Patrick stares at me with his eyebrows pushed towards each other as if he is focusing on me intently before saying, “You should go. Go check on these people, and if they are fine, then you should ask for help researching this – this condition.”

Yes. Patrick has given me the key to break down this world.

“You should come with me Patrick. They will want to speak to someone, and you seem the most capable of accurately accessing your own condition and reporting on it.”

He nods, and walks over to Azalea, bending down to hug her in the chair she is in. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix this,” he whispers to her.

She wraps her own arms around him, leaning into him. From my angle I can see a single glistening tear tracing a path down the side of her face. She already shows more emotion than she used to. Maybe Patrick was right to ask me to take her memory.

“Hope.” Melanie’s voice startles me and makes me look back at her.

“We need to get you and master Patrick dressed to visit with the city officials. We probably won’t be able to get a meeting with the state delegates at this short a notice, but the city council should see us.”

I nod agreement, and leave Patrick embracing Azalea.

I need some way to tie him to me so that if I need to give him back his memories he is stuck working with me. I also need to tell him a partial truth so that he is less suspicious.

The best way to do that is to make him my partner in crime. If he believes that this was his idea, that I am simply helping him achieve his own goals, then he will probably help me. If people always see him with me, then they will assume that he is working with me. With that, even if I have to give him his memories back, he won’t be able to go against me.

Melanie pulls out the skirt suite I wore just the other day when I visited the Pillar of Power the first time. I change into it and let Melanie pull my white hair up into a severe bun. It’s easy to let myself be waited on and to not have to do these things for myself. If I let myself I would probably fall into complacency and forget about the people struggling to survive every day, which is why I have to do this.

“Thank you so much for helping me. I’m not sure… With things how they are…” I’m not sure what I want to say to her. I need to seem flustered, unsure of myself and of what’s happening.

“It’s hard seeing the young master so confused, and his poor wife. To not remember your own husband…”

I wipe at my eyes as if wiping away tears before responding. “I was almost moved to tears earlier at the breakfast table. I hope there is a cure for this somewhere.” There is. The cure is me giving them back their memories, but the memories won’t be the same. They won’t feel like it was them in those memories. No, the best cure is time. Time to adapt and create new memories, the way I have become Hope.

I need a plan that Patrick will approve of. A plan with the least number of deaths but the most panic. I need to take over this city.

“After you warn the city council, make sure you warn the House of Delegates and the Governor. The Governor has the power to declare a state of emergency.” She pulls me into an awkward hug from the side. “Go, for all of us.”

I will, Melanie. I will go, and confront the government, and begin to change this world to be a better place. I twist, and wrap my own arms around her, silently thanking her for her support. Real tears leak out of my eyes. Why am I crying? I have to be strong. I pull back, away from the comfort of this woman who’s been both stern and kind, and wipe the tears from my eyes.