I have been working with Madeleine Swann for years. She has a gift for combining wonder, horror, and beauty into some of the most distinctive and unusual fiction you have ever read. A new piece from Madeleine is always a pleasure and one I am grateful to share.
Making Memories More Fun by Madeleine Swann
Jade sat on the bench out front to vape on her break at Mckenzie’s T Shirts. It was a new flavour she’d been excited to try, strawberry, though she’d never tell anyone for fear of sounding like an arsehole. Damon must have spotted her from the coffee shop he worked at opposite. It was a busy “shopping village,” a cul-de-sac dedicated to retail outlets, and they were the only ones in their mid-twenties still there. He danced through customers and sat beside her. “Bloomin’ ‘eck,” he said jovially.
“You alright?” Jade had been looking forward to fifteen minutes without using her vocal cords but she couldn’t be rude to Damon.
“You been to the new shop ’round the corner?”
“Nope. Did I win the bet? Is it a phone shop?”
“It’s not,” Damon said, clearly wanting to drag out the mystery, “it’s a Memory Store.”
Jade met his gaze, shocked. “Like the one in Stratford?”
“Just like it.” Stratford made the news when ads for the shop plastered billboards, the news, and social media. The Memory Storage supposedly enhanced your memories by making them more fun, or easier to bear. Jade had announced her horror on social media like she was supposed to, but secretly, the idea of changing her mum and dad’s drunken arguments sounded pretty good. Perhaps she could remove them altogether.
“I went in yesterday,” said Damon, and Jade was shocked once more.
“You didn’t wait for me?”
“I was too excited. They did it there and then, just had to sign something.”
“What?” Jade studied him as though branches sprouted from his head. “Do you feel weird? What did you change?” She’d never expected him to have bad memories and chided herself for being judgemental. It’s just, he always seemed so happy.
“Nothing major, just added dinosaurs.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I thought, I have loads of good memories of dad before he died, and friends at school, but it would be even better if there were dinosaurs. Not, like, dangerous ones. But now, when I remember playing knock down ginger with James Begley, there’s a diplodocus looming over the houses. And, when we did that escape room last year, there’s pterodactyls outside the window.”
“And it all feels real? Do they look real?”
“All really real, like they were there. I even had a favourite, Steve. He was a Triceratops.” Jade shook her head, unable to speak. What could she say to this?
“Well, as long as you’re happy.”
She spent a whole week definitely not thinking about it. She smiled blandly at the customers who ranted about this awful new place, and shouldn’t they do something about it? She smiled at the customers who excitedly shared memory changes. “I had Dad put into my graduation. His hair’s a bit wrong, but the tech is new, you know?” One woman said. They seemed aware of the previous memory, but only in an intellectual sense.
Finally, on Monday, she gave in and went, on her lunch break, to the shop. With its neutral décor, paintings of mountains and trees, and bean bags with tiny tables, Spaces did all it could to avoid a cold, clinical appearance. “Hi,” said the young lad behind the counter, “do you need a hand, someone to talk you through the menu?”
“No, I’m fine, just looking.”
“OK, let me know,” he said, and busied himself with straightening things. Jade flopped onto a beanbag and looked through the menu, ordering herself not to be tempted. Most were beyond her price range and offered something completely new or to take something completely away, but an option at the bottom caught her off guard. Her breath quickened. “Sorry,” said Jade, “What’s ‘Softening?’”
He sprang into action, “That means you keep the memory, but anything immediately bad is altered to cause less trauma.”
“So, like, if dad hit me with a hairbrush, it changes to a banana?”
The server laughed too loudly. “I don’t know, it chooses what works best for you, which might be a banana, I suppose.”
Jade tried to stay calm, but her hands shook. “I want that. Please,” she added.
“Sure.” He fetched a sheet of paper and a biro, laying them on the table in front of her. “Have a read of that, sign it and I’ll be back in a mo.”
She looked through the legal jargon, begging there to be nothing dodgy, but a sentence at the bottom, in tiny print, caught her eye, “All new memories are subject to upkeep and failure to do so may result in removal.”
When the server returned, she pointed to it. “Um, what does this mean?” The server affected a casual tone.
“Just that, as things improve, they might require some upkeep, to keep things ticking along. It’s nothing major, just ensuring your memories stay safe and keep you happy.”
So, this was the catch: hidden charges. If she didn’t keep paying, the whole memory might be deleted. Despite what she’d been through, she didn’t want holes in her brain. “I’ll have a think,” she said, smiling, and left.
Damon disappeared around Christmas, which didn’t alarm her as service workers left all the time, and she eventually forgot about him. Then, the following autumn, she spotted a familiar figure drifting aimlessly down the high street. “Damon!” He turned and studied her face, but didn’t seem to recognise her. His hair was unbrushed and his T Shirt was covered in food. “How have you been?”
“Hi,” he said, as if to a stranger, “can’t hang about, I’m taking Steve to the park.”
“You have fun,” said Jade. He wandered off holding an invisible lead, chatting to something that wasn’t there. Although Jade wanted to cry, she had to admit he still seemed perfectly happy.
Madeleine Swann is a psychedelic flapper who writes weird things. She’s been nominated for a Wonderland Award and has had stories on The Other Stories podcast, Splatterpunk nominated The New Flesh and more http://madeleineswann.com/
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