Fragments of the Past | Dikamsiyochi Udochi Young
Bella sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the sleek brochure in her hand. Moses had insisted she brought it home with her during their last meet-up. She has decided to call it a meet-up because she is just not ready to accept him into her life. At least, not now.
The afternoon sunlight launched through the window, distracting her thoughts. Looking up at the round wall clock ticking above her bed, she shuffled to sit up against the grey textured headboard. It was only 1:19pm. Yet, the sun was expressing its dominance.
The sprawling view from Bella’s top style apartment was breathtaking on sunny days. The light bounced off the windows and often created illusions of rainbows. She was happy when the realtor showed her the building. The windows were one of the selling points for her. It has been four years now and Bella barely notices the sun these days.
She ran her fingers over the brochure as she stared at the cover design. A stylized brain outlined in white against a serene blue background. The brochure was just like Moses. Bright and glossy. Beneath the brain were the words: “Start Anew: Forget the Unforgettable.” Bella propped herself against the headboard, taking a deep breath.
She had heard about Reveo Technologies only last week. She remembers it now because their groundbreaking creative tech promised the impossible: the ability to delete painful memories. Although she sneered while Moses talked about it, she made a mental note. For someone like her—haunted by endless regrets, heartbreak, and failure—she longed to forget. This brain company though. It sounded different, like a miracle in the making. A chance to leave it all behind.
Her fingers tightened on the brochure, the edges sharp against her dry hands. Could it really work? Could she really erase everything that was broken inside her? If Reveo Technologies could deliver on their promise, a new world awaited Bella. She glanced down at the tagline again, the words blurring for a moment.
She tried to picture her life without the burdens of her past. Would she be sitting here, staring at a brochure designed to fix the world? The questions kept coming, and she accepted there was only one way to find out. Her stomach rumbled to remind her that her body was still needy.
Two weeks later, Bella walked through the polished glass doors of Reveoʼs flagship facility. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and soft ambient music hummed in the background. She noticed a white wall engraved with the same brain on the brochure. The designed walls shifted from white to pale blue as she moved through the space. The design was futuristic yet calming.
A brown-haired receptionist greeted her with a warm smile at the entrance. “Welcome to Reveo, Ms. Rivera. Right this way.ˮ
Bella followed, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She was led to a small chamber with a white reclining chair surrounded by a halo of delicate sensors. Above the chair, a large screen floated like a suspended canvas, waiting to display her inner world. The receptionist waved the screen on for what she called a life test and spoke to the lights on the way out. Only then did Bella realize the receptionist was powered.
Two slim neuroengineers walked in and introduced themselves while handing over a floating tablet that moved through slides as they spoke. “Think of this as a guided visualization,ˮ one said, adjusting the sensors around Bellaʼs head. It was Henry, the tall one. Now that he was standing so close to her, his head looked slightly too big for his neck to hold. The white coat on his shoulder also seemed too big, but his vibrato voice made up for it.
“The machine will connect to your neural pathways and display your memories on the screen.” He said as he stepped away from her. The floating tablet followed him too.
“Youʼll be able to select the ones you want to delete by simply thinking about them. Once youʼre done, the system will isolate those memories in a trash compartment, and you can finalize their deletion.ˮ
“Itʼs completely safe,ˮ Sorelle, the other engineer added. “Weʼll leave you alone during the session, but you can call us anytime by pressing the button on the armrest.ˮ She couldn’t tell if Sorelle was like the receptionist. His face was perfectly angled and everything looked well calculated, almost mathematical.
Bella nodded. Her throat felt dry in this perfectly lit room. Was this it? She wondered. What was she going to do after this was over?
The neuroengineers walked out of the room after powering the sensors. Bella reclined the chair and shut her eyes tight, pressing her fingers against the armrests. The halo of sensors descended, and the screen in front of her flickered to life again.
The machine responded instantly to her thoughts. The first memory appeared: a fight with her ex-boyfriend, Marcus. Bella first met Marcus at her cousin’s wedding. She was mystified when he walked up to her and said her visage was like the sun on a rainy day. His brown eyes sparkled as he winked at her. She had been warned about guys like Marcus. Still, nothing about that day could have prepared Bella for the nightmare that followed, that Marcus was. His cruel words echoed through the room.
“You? I am doing you a favour by being here! Who can love a woman like you? Are you even worthy of love?ˮ Bella flinched, the sting of rejection as fresh as the day it happened. She focused on the memory, and it was highlighted on the screen. With a mental flick, she sent it to the trash compartment.
Next came an image of herself at sixteen, frozen on stage during a school debate unable to move for the fear of exposing that she had bled through her skirt. If she had known her period would come, she would have worked twice as hard to overcome her stage fright. Mean teenage laughter rippled through the audience and now, this room. Her cheeks burned as she relived the humiliation. She quickly marked it for deletion.
Then came a memory of being chased by a snarling dog. It was her tutor’s dog, Steam. The experience had left her with an irrational fear of dogs that still haunted her. Somehow, this irrational fear was how she was introduced to Moses. He was a phobia researcher at the institute beside her office. Still into the trash it went.
One at a time, Bella relived her most painful moments, isolating them in the trash compartment with the despair they came with. The process was cathartic but exhausting, like dredging through an emotional swamp.
Finally, the screen dimmed, and a new message appeared: “Would you like to preview your life without these memories? Y/N.ˮ
Bella hesitated. She wasn’t told this was part of the process. She felt unsure, yet curious. She waited before thinking yes, and the screen flickered again.
The machine began reconstructing her life as if the selected memories had never happened. It started previews of her new life in order of significance.
Without the breakup with Marcus, Bella never moved cities to start over. She never decided to become a cloud architect. She stayed in her small hometown and worked as a cashier. She saw a version of herself standing behind a counter, her expression blank.
Then came her life without the debate competition. With this experience erased, she never developed the resilience that fueled her achievements. She saw herself as someone who avoided challenges, sticking to a safe but uninspiring life.
Without her fear of dogs, she never met Moses. The scene shifted to a cafe where she worked every Friday on her laptop. The chair across from her was empty. Bella realized she always wanted him by her side.
Bella panicked. None of these versions of her life felt right. “Recalculate,ˮ she whispered. The machine obeyed, generating a new timeline.
In this version, she became a successful entrepreneur, living in a penthouse overlooking the city. Her relationships were shallow, and her life was lonely. Without the pain of her past, she had never developed the empathy to connect to others the way she did now. Bella felt herself get hot as she stared at the screen. “Recalculate again,ˮ she said, louder this time.
The screen shifted through dozens of scenarios. In some, she was happy but lacked depth. In others, she was wealthy but unfulfilled. Through the many versions, something vital was always missing.
Bellaʼs hands trembled as she stopped the machine. She was sitting up now, unable to accept the consequences of erasure. She placed her hands on her head as tears formed in her eyes. Her breath quivered. She started replaying the memories in her trash compartment and the screen shifted again. She opened her eyes and stared blankly. She decided to preview her life with one horrible memory restored at a time.
With each one restored, her sense of self grew clearer, as though she were piecing together a puzzle. The screen displayed her life again with a descriptive note that read messy and imperfect. She glanced at the trash compartment. It was empty. Bella grew impatient.
The neuroengineers returned with neutral expressions on their faces. “Ms. Rivera, are you ready to finalize the deletion?ˮ Sorelle asked.
Bella was puzzled. She took her time before whispering, “I donʼt have any memories to delete.” The words felt heavy on her lips. They didn’t feel right to say. How could she have nothing to delete? This was her dream. To forget the unforgettable. To start everything over. How could she like this Bella? As she ran through the thoughts, the screen followed. It played memories of what she subconsciously hoped for in her future, if she could not get rid of these memories.
In a few years, Bella would be staring out her balcony with a book in her hand on a summer day. Moses would be humming a song and sneaking up behind her. The picket fences that once guarded her heart had been lowered for him. Were they married? Bella noticed herself smiling on the screen and the image froze the same way it did in her mind.
She broke down in tears.
The engineers exchanged knowing glances and smiled. “Ms. Rivera.” Henry started. “You have now completed the renewal process. My colleague and I will step out now and we’ll be happy to answer more questions at the entrance. Thank you for choosing Reveo.”
Bella saw only their lower bodies as they exited the room. For years, she had believed that moving forward meant erasing the past. But now, with the chance to delete them at her fingertips, why did it feel impossible? Could she really live a full life untethered by the painful memories of her past?
As she stepped out of the building, a renewed sense of clarity settled over her. Her feet were her own.
Dikamsiyochi Udochi Young is a storyteller who seeks to capture the messy, beautiful heart of what it means to be human through his writing, music, imagery, and spoken content. Find him @dikamsiyoung (X, LinkedIn, Medium) and @kamsiyoung (Instagram).
Cover image by Ron Lach