This is where it happened. Right here, at this spot.
Are you sure.
Of course I’m sure. It happened to me. I’m certain this is where I was standing.
Well, okay. It’s just that…sometimes our memories…
What. What are you saying. That it didn’t happen.
No, I’m not saying that. But we don’t always recall situations or occurrences in the same way that they actually happened.
Who’s to say then whether anything ever actually happened the way we remember it. Back then, I mean, before the way we live changed.
Well, that’s just it. We can’t. That’s why I’m asking if you’re sure.
I have to admit, looking at it now, at the exact spot…
If it even is the exact spot.
Oh, right. Yes, you’re right. Even that is suspect, I suppose.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to discredit you. I mean, maybe if you had some sort of proof…
Yes, but this was before the camera implants.
Of course. I know. But maybe an eyewitness. Someone who could corroborate your version of events.
No. It was just me. I was by myself. I’d just finished dining alone at a cafe. I’d sat outside in the cool evening air, watching the sun descend slowly as I dined. The waiter had come to check on me one last time and on a whim I decided to order an espresso. As you know I don’t normally take caffeine but something about sipping that black bitterness, feeling the jolt of energy…it seemed apropos to the moment. Anyway, after I finished the coffee I entered the park for a brief stroll before returning to my quarters. It was quite dark by then but the sodium lamps had flickered on. I moved from one island of orange light to the next, craving a cigarette while intensely aware of the impossibility of fulfilling that craving. I was not thinking of anything specific, just enjoying the walk, the silence of the park, the cleanness of the air as I moved farther away from the central city’s stench. It was when I approached the fountain, right here where we’re standing, that it happened.
It’s remarkable that you can recall such details from so long ago.
It was a pivotal moment for me. After that everything changed. It was as if my entire self turned inside out and began operating at odds with the way it had before.
But why. I mean, it seems like such a banal occurrence in light of the changes you claim it triggered.
I’m not claiming anything. I’m saying it’s a fact. The transformation was immediate.
Okay, I believe you.
You sound skeptical.
It’s just that it sounds like so many other moments. Our days are full of them.
The mundane can often be life-changing. And even if, as you say, it may not have happened how I remember it, the point is that it altered my course. There’s no denying that.
I agree with you there. You seem much different now than when I knew you before.
Of course your memory could be faulty, too.
Well, that’s why we have the implants now, right. To avoid such uncertainty.
I suppose so. I can’t help thinking that this is not the way it should be, though. That this new certainty about the past destroys our faith in the present.
How do you figure that.
I think that now we’re using our definitive knowledge of the past to dictate the terms of the present—that’s what the implants have given us. A predetermination that we can’t escape. We’re locked into this rigid framework of how things need to be.
But we still have a choice. People don’t have to use the implants. You can opt to struggle with recalling your past, to live with the uncertainty.
For now. I doubt it will be long before they’re mandatory, though. And then our conversation here about my moment of clarity will itself have become a quaint memory—but one that we can instantly call up and review, just to be sure of what actually happened.
You could be right. But for now you’re still free to forget or to remember it however you like.
There is no choice—the moment is already dead. Now how about an espresso. I think there’s a cafe not far from here.