The human mind is like a house, full of doors leading to hallways leading to rooms. And just like spring-cleaning keeps a home in good condition; the same is true for our minds.
That’s what we do: We clean minds.
It was a Thursday and Fannie Trumbull arrived wearing the same downtrodden face as every other client. Sure they might appear different on the outside but they were all the same inside:
Disappointed. Abused. Traumatized. Abandoned.
No one ever came to Life Refurb because they were happy.
“Sit,” I instructed.
She gripped her papers and her ragged purse in weathered hands, sliding into the chaise which was the only seat in the room.
I applied the required electrodes. “It’ll be disorienting at first,” I said, picking up the control pad.
She nodded, eyes vague, lips trembling. She seemed almost senile, old, forgetful.
I pushed the button and suddenly we were standing in the virtual foyer of her mind. She followed me as I explored the place, her hand clutching my elbow as if she could get lost in her own thoughts. Although there wasn’t much to worry about.
We opened door after door, revealing a particularly drab nothingness. Cobwebbed and vacant, the shapeless rooms had no identifying marks whatsoever. As if they’d been cleaned before. A very long time ago.
I wondered if this was just age. Perhaps time itself had done its job too well.
Then I saw the door. It didn’t look native to the house, glowing darkly with sinister purpose.
Yep it was definitely man-made. But placed here by whom? And why?
It took a few curses and a digital lock-pick to open it, but I managed.
When the dark door swung open, the chaos inside made my stomach lurch with vertigo. A dizzying cacophony of pictures and music and talk assaulted us. Ethereal lights of emotion bounced and danced in the too-small space like digital pinball.
“What is all this?” I blurted, blinking back the tears and trying to keep from retching.
“Memories,” Fannie chirped, suddenly smiling. “You found them!”
Words by Stacy B.
Image from pixabay.com