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Vanish into Memory
🕑 Added 2024-01-31 00:27:10 +0000 UTCIn the next chapter of Gilded Rose, Perish the Thought, Glory's brother, requires a treasured memory for his services. This is the memory he took.
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Perish the Thought opened his eye. He was drifting through a lightless abyss, searching for a pinprick of illumination in a field of identical, glimmering motes.
He found it quickly. He was nothing if not efficient. The mindscape of Will Terronson was arranged like a layer cake, or more aptly, like a column of deep water.
Under the shallows of his conscious mind, the subconscious was dark and constricting. The memory Perish was after was not, in abstract, particularly notable. It was a single event of no obvious significance.
But Perish knew that this wasn’t how brains really worked. Significance is eminently subjective. The demon slipped through the cracks of the memory, manifesting within it.
Like an oyster encasing a parasite in layers of nacre to form a pearl, Will’s mind cloaked Perish in a form Will would find less objectionable. Or, at least, a form Will would remember as such.
Two arms, two eyes. A human. How droll, Perish thought, before remembering that humans were the only things from Will’s world that had bothered with civilization. He was a somewhat old man, dressed smartly.
A teacher of some subject Will hadn’t taken, and so didn’t remember well. He was at a party, what Will called “prom,” whatever that meant. A seventeen-year-old Will was sitting in one corner of a gymnasium that had been temporarily retrofitted to serve as a party venue. He was wearing a rented tuxedo that had seen better days.
Doing something extremely foolish, Perish sat down next to Will, who looked up at him in surprise.
“Uh, hello Mr. Avelton,” the echo of Will said in mild surprise. “Sorry, am I not supposed to sit here?”
Perish was going off-script, which was impressive considering he hadn’t had one. “Nothing of the sort, Terronson. You just seemed a little down. Surely you’d like to enjoy prom night?”
Will made a disappointed noise. “I’d like to, sure. But… I don’t know. I don’t have anyone to spend it with.”
Perish scanned the memories related to this one, bolstering his understanding as he spoke. “Your friends in extracurricular activities, such as… Life Science… club?”
Will made the same noise again, this time slightly louder. “Nobody wanted to come. Well, except Richie.”
A new cascade of memories opened before Perish. Richie, Will’s closest friend for most of high school. “Well,” he said. “Where is he?”
Will didn’t look up, but the memory bent to accommodate Perish’s curiosity. Richie, wearing a white tuxedo of significantly higher quality than Will’s, was chatting amicably with a number of girls.
Perish was more familiar with the concept of femininity than most. As a creature of the mind, he was capable of projecting himself beyond the confines of his material reality with less difficulty than most, and exploring others with less investment. The distinction of male and female that so defined Will’s understanding of other people was not lost on Perish. He did, however, still not “get” it, and likely never would.
Whatever abstract qualities these humans possessed that defined them as “girls” aside, Richie was on the periphery of a group of them, like a giraffe hyenas had parted before at a watering hole. There was no competition, no fear of confrontation. So long as there was no resource in contention, there was peace.
Another glut of information filled in the gaps of Perish’s understanding of the situation. “So that’s the game?” he said to himself.
“Hm?” said Will, looking at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Perish said. “You should join your friend Richie. I’m certain he would appreciate your company.”
“You know what,” Will said, getting up. “You’re right. Thank you, Mr. Avelton.”
This was hardly over, Perish knew. Memories were always forgone conclusions.
The echo of Will joining the echo of Richie changed the atmosphere of the little group. Suddenly, there was a lion wedged between the hyenas; not inherently a threat, if it was just here to drink, but something to be wary of.
How unpleasant it must be, Perish thought, to have to think like that all the time.
The chatter was meaningless; merely a jumble of words reassembled by Will’s hazy memories. But at least Will was enjoying himself, now. Perish considered that worth something, at least.
Time passed in a blur, the unimportant filler of Will’s climactic little tragedy padding his recollection. Will had been dimly aware awards had been given out; he had not expected to have his name called.
The spotlight that focused on him had probably not been so cold in the moment. He hadn’t really been about to be dissected under such an unfeeling gaze.
Another spotlight, this time on Richie. Will was confused. He knew that there were awards given out in recognition of service to the school, and that he was proud of the joint project he and Richie had undertaken in repairing its greenhouse.
These two unrelated occurrences connected in his mind, and Will had been convinced that this was what it was about. His hard work was about to be rewarded.
He and Richie walked up onto the short platform, spotlights warming. The room was dead silent, again likely a fabrication of Will’s imperfect memory. A bored-looking faculty member scanned a cue-card in his hand, and read out “To Reagan High’s couple of the year.”
Perish was unprepared for just how much this wounded Will. He had known, of course, that this was a painful memory. That was why he had sought it out. But that was, perhaps, foolish. The crowd of Will’s peers laughed mirthlessly, some prank an unknown adversary had pulled.
Had they known, at the time, how deeply this would affect Will? Would they have cared?
A demon would have calculated with exacting detail how much this would sting, but mortals were fond of hurting each other in ways they could barely fathom.
Even in this state, Will had known that not all of them had been in on the joke; that some were only laughing because everyone else was. This provided no comfort.
Will ran. Bolted, really, knocking over decorations and even a bowl of spiked punch as he did. Single-minded panic had gripped him, and the only thing he knew to do was to flee, put as much distance between him and everything else as possible.
Perish didn’t follow. He had seen all he needed to. He let the memory wash away, leaving him again suspended in the darkness. He took his only tool, a thin, sharp blade, and began severing this singular experience from Will’s mind.
He admired his handiwork. The swirling remnant of Will’s misfortune separated perfectly. Perish, despite appearances, was not typically very prideful. But he was proud of this moment, at what he had done.
Perish withdrew from Will’s mind, yanked free like a fish on a reel. He again opened his eye, and retracted from Will’s physical body.
Will opened his eyes, peering at Perish with a mix of distrust and disappointment. “Is that it? I don’t feel any different,” he said flatly.
“You shouldn’t,” said Perish. “It was a precise strike. I’m many things, but I’m not sloppy.”
