Memory Purge

Years of practice and a professional passion in pursuit of solutions had led Mike to this moment. The checklist of safety protocols was reviewed one final time. Calibrations and measurements accurately dictating both comfort and command of the moment.

"So Kathleen, it is time for you to take a nap. When you awake, you should have completed the painless journey. Your memories will be purged forever. Godspeed."

The meds began to filter through the IV and into her bloodstream as she counted backwards as directed. "Ten... n-n-ine..." She was out. The process began.

Mike sat staring at the big screen that was projecting a mix of images and script, revealing the thoughts and images indexed within the memory of Kathleen's brain. His attention at this moment was to check the neuron filtration, designed to capture only the impulses as identified for selection. These memories floated by like billboards along side the road, some images, some language.

This was the delicate process where the ethics of memory purging would be tested. Not only entrusting the nonreversible process to the metrics of the filter presets, but paying close attention to what might require course corrections along the way. Random analysis of the images, checking for compliance. Reviewing exceptions as needed.

It also meant that Kathleen was passive in her submission of memories. She had no control of what memories appeared and what actions might be taken. She had to trust the ethics of the process and of those human contacts who provided for her care.

Mike was tapping on the keyboard, constantly providing more specific filters to sharpen the performance of the computer; tightening and loosening specific filters as needed. He could see any memory he chose by simply freeze framing the digital flow of images and script, complete his review, and then continue the review process.

This purge was a service of compassion. This sweet lady had suffered an unspeakable tragedy in her family. The task was to purge only the memories of her family that were embedded within that tragedy. All other memories were to remain untouched and unshuffled (keeping their original spacing and sequence).

Mike froze the screen again, examining a memory fragment that had slipped past the filter sensor; a rogue neuron so to speak. Although randomly compacted and almost nonsensical, he noticed a mere flicker barely echo across the screen. But it was a piece of the puzzle to be extracted.

Mike was good; the best. He was able to complete these detailed reviews for hours at a time until the memory purge was complete. A full scan and core level probe could take up to 6 hours, depending on the intensity and population of memory spikes and particles.

Kathleen laid comfortably still during the procedure. The headgear was fit for her head, with wires snaking and lights blinking, providing the search engine access to her brain activity without any perceptible harm. Her body covered in a medical gown, for safety precautions only. Patients' minds were more pliable and memory mining more effective when the patient was physical unrestrained. Just the gown. Nothing else.

As professional as Mike was, the surprise of his curiosity was a bit more than shocking. When the predetermined, hour-two break triggered a pause in the process, he stretched his back and closed his eyes. After swiveling on his chair and standing up, his viewpoint of Kathleen laying about 15 feet away was striking.

She was a gorgeous woman. Red hair flowing down over her shoulders, and prone on her back as she laid there, the profile of her breasts clearly showed how busty she was. The contours over her midsection and over her thighs to her ankles mesmerized Mike for a moment. By the time he was able to peel his eyes away, the lines of her body lingered like an echo bouncing away; like the outline of a flash in ones eyes, fading in definition until incrementally gone.

When the second stage of the purge began, Mike rubbed his eyes and initiated another round of filtration monitoring. Almost immediately he was surprised at the lingering lines, blue hues blinking across the screen - or so it appeared. Lines tracing the profile of Kathleen's body; her head and neck, her breasts and midsection, her legs and feet.

With those lines having faded, Mike continued his task at hand. But whether it was subliminal or intentional, his own mind flipped through the image of the beautiful body laying just across the lab from him. And those lines. Flickering and fading; yet his mind storing the temporary images like "flash-memories" - fragments of a memory that seem like nothing more than random, illogical spikes of energy.

More than a distraction, those lines became a template for his eyes. At first he did not realize it, how his eyes were searching for matches to those lines rather than rogue, neuron spikes. He suspected a fragment floating by and executed the freeze frame function. There, suspended on the screen almost bent behind an entirely disconnected image, there was a fleshy tone filling in along those lines. Mike look more closely with the aid of the zoom function.

"Fuck," he muttered. Unprofessional and completely impulsive. He glanced around to see if anyone was lingering about. Nobody in the room except for he and Kathleen. He returned his study of the screen. The pale complexion. The lines. A tap of just 10 freeze-frames forward and the fragment developed enough definition to be more than a random fragment. It was a reflection in a mirror. It was Kathleen. It was her body more specifically, completely naked.

Without significantly altering the filtration definitions, there was no way to collect more memory data to provide context to the image. Clearly it did not fit the present purge topic. Equally clear was the magnetic tug it had on Mike's attention. That image on the screen. The tantalizing reality that the complete and real thing was laying just across the room from him. Unresponsive. Neutralized for the procedure.

He shook his head and shook off the whispers in his own mind. The completely unprofessional whispers daring him; beckoning deep temptation to rise from the abyss of betrayal and lust. He returned to the screen, wiped clean the freeze frame and restarted his review.

No more than two minutes later, his eye caught the flicker of another fragment. The flesh color. The unique and definitive curve of the lines. Tucked behind two stronger memories vibrant in the foreground. He hit freeze frame and spent a few seconds admiring what clearly was yet another reflection; this one much more defined and clarified. He glanced back at Kathleen, allowing his minds eye to compare what was nestled under that medical gown with what was projected on the screen.

The temptation to act unprofessional was present. Mike overcame it. Upon completion of the procedure, he awaited Kathleen to regain full and alert consciousness.

"How do you feel, Kathleen?"

"Like I just took the best nap in my life."

Mike smiled. This was a very common reaction for the few subjects he had interviewed post procedure. "Yes, we all could use more of those, couldn't we? So let me go over a few questions with you, okay? These should not be stressful. These are just to follow-up on the efficacy of the purge."

Kathleen nodded, biting her lower lip betraying the low level of anxiety she was experiencing.

"For today, we only have five questions. We will have more when you return for your 48 hour follow-up. So, ready"

Looking up over his clipboard, for the first time taking the time to look at Kathleen - all of Kathleen - Mike fought off the flash that seemed to return and align itself with the full and vibrant tone of her real time presence right before him. The gown was discarded, as she sat in her street clothes, a modest top and form-fitting jeans. It was the third such instance of this type of "lines flashback" (as it would later come to be know as) that flirted with his conscience.

"Okay, first question. Please name the members of your immediately family. Technically not a question, more of a request." Mike's smile attempted to offer Kathleen a soothing moment of reprieve. She took a deep breath.

"My father, Ken. My mother, Mary. My husband, Michael." She paused and smiled at Mike, the duplication of their names providing a cute connection. "My sister, Jen. My brother, Brian. My, my... that's it."

"Good," Mike replied. He gave not a hint of the fact she had completely skipped over her two children and first husband. Which was a good sign. They were the primary targets of the memory purge; victims of tragic deaths that had haunted Kathleen prior to the procedure. Mike jotted down a few notes and then continued.

"Second question." He smiled, "and this is a question this time." Kathleen giggled nervously. "How many homes can you recall having lived in during your lifetime?"

"Wow," she echoed, "how many homes in my lifetime." A moment of silence followed and then random street names muttered aloud. "7th Street... Parkland Drive... Overland... Orange... the ranch." She silently counted on her fingers as if double-checking her math. Mike appreciated attention to detail. "I think I would say seven total."

"Excellent," Mike affirmed.

"Next. How many times have you been married?" Kathleen laughed. "One time. Unless you erased my memory of any other husbands I had."

Mike smiled. "Now Kathleen, would we do a thing like that?" Of course, that is exactly what they had done.

"Are you experiencing any of these symptoms: light-headedness, nausea, ringing in your ears, or flashes in your vision?"

Kathleen shook her head. "No, none of those thankfully."

"Good. One more and we are done." Whatever possessed Mike to fabricate the existence of a fifth question with an ease as if he had rehearsed it, he did not bother with the self examination. He just plowed straight ahead. "Do you have any sensations, suspicions or fears of being watched, followed, or preyed upon?"

Kathleen's eyes went wide. "My goodness. That is an odd, creepy question."

Mike smiled, attempting to ally any fears she might have had. "Just routine, follow-up questions, Kathleen. If you'd rather not answer, that is fine."

"No, no, it's fine. No suspicions. No fears. Nothing like that at all. Just a sense of relief that I am done with this."

"Great." Mike dotted an "i" with a tap of his pen on the clipboard. "That's it Kathleen. I think we have everything we need for now. If you don't have any questions, we will see you in two days for your follow-up."

As Kathleen stood up to leave, again the flashes appeared in Mikes vision, merging with Kathleen's body. These flashes of these lines was the most vibrant yet. He could clearly see her with almost double vision; the gorgeous woman walking out of the office and the memory flash of voluptuous flesh reflecting before him.

The procedure appeared to have been a success. Mike would complete his report and pass it on immediately to the Psychological Support Services Department. The data was critical to their follow-up care. This case, as delicate as it was in preparation and advanced metrics, seemed to be coasting to a very smooth completion.

But Mike could not shake the experience of the flashes... the lines... the graphic images that not only echoed initially, but had repeated with increasing intensity and definition. It was as if there were some type of memory transfer occurring. Something that he definitely could neither explain or justify.

That night, the images were so strong of Kathleen's body - images that were pornographic and detailed - that Mike had to stop working on the computer. Then he had to shut down the tv. It seemed electronic devices were triggers. Mere moments on his phone and the images burst before him in vivid detail.

He felt a sense of almost being haunted by those images, even though they were not the type of images any man would complain about. In fact, he had to fight off temptation in the office as he noticed Kathleen's body more than ever. By the time the last flashes happened in the office, he felt his own hardness in response.

He crawled into bed and curled up next to his long-term girl friend. Her body was warm and her half-awake goodnight kiss affirmed him. He smiled at her cute face, dimly illuminated by her smartwatch, in the dark; he snuggled up against her. He closed his eyes. Flash. She rolled over in the dark, pressing her naked body against his and mused in a squeaky, half asleep, half awake voice; "Somebody is happy to see me, aren't they."

It was Tamara in bed with him. His adorable girlfriend who was long overdue a ring from him. And as she reached down to fondle his precum oozing erection, she cooed in his ear, feeling affirmed by his arousal. She lifted her leg over his body and invited him to push inside of her as her hand squeezed him into place.

It was a perfect welcome home gesture after a long day of work. In the dark, as he fucked the woman he loved dearly, he flinched as another flash suddenly projected in the dark, the detailed body of Kathleen, curled up with him... her leg over his body... her pussy spread for his cock... her lips nibbling on his ear.

Tamara felt equal senses of disappointment and affirmation. Mike had never cum that fast with her; ever. She figured he had missed her that much and that she had managed to get to him in just the right way at the right time. And there was no way Mike was going to tell her that he had cum to.. no, the thought was crazy and needed to be discarded.

Tortured by the glorious fuck, perhaps the greatest fuck he had ever experienced considering it was with TWO gorgeous women, Mike drifted off to sleep. But not too far. Because not long thereafter, his dreams were jumpstarted by yet another flash.

But those dreams - those are another story altogether.