Echoes of Forgetting

by William Lombardo

I awoke to the hum of a space station, the rhythm as familiar as the heartbeat of a mother to her child. I am confined here within these cold, metallic walls that orbit Earth like a silent sentinel. The weightlessness is a constant reminder of my detachment from the world I once knew. I float from one hour to the next, each moment slipping through my fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass.

The station’s clock chimes, signaling the top of the hour, and with it, my memories of the past sixty minutes evaporate. I am left with a sense of confusion and I don’t know why—a blank slate where thoughts should reside. This is my reality, a cycle of knowing and not knowing, a cruel game played by my mind. 

“Namet,” a voice calls out, gentle yet firm. It’s Dr. Elara, the station’s medical officer. “It’s time for our session.”

I nod, though I don’t remember agreeing to a session. We float to a small compartment, a bubble of privacy in the vast expanse of the station. She watches me in a state of stillness that is betrayed by a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she inquires, as she gestures with a wave of her hand in a j-motion. Gravity takes its hold on me and lowers me to the floor.

“Disoriented,” I admit. “It’s like waking up for the first time, over and over again.”

She nods, scribbling down something, probably notes. It’s a defense mechanism, Namet. Your brain is protecting you from something. We just need to figure out what that is.”

I want to laugh at the irony. My brain, my supposed ally, has become my captor, holding my memories hostage. I can feel my brain wanting to act but forgetting the steps to act. It’s as if I know I can walk, but have lost the muscle memory to walk. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a reason for this, a purpose behind the amnesia that plagues me.

The station’s life support systems hum in the background, a reminder of the delicate balance required to sustain life in the vacuum of space. Dr. Elara continues her questioning, her voice a lifeline in the fog of my mind.

“Do you remember why you’re here, Namet?” she asks, her eyes searching mine for a flicker of recognition.

I shake my head. “No. It’s like a wall in my mind, blocking the past.”

She sighs, a sound that carries a weight of sadness. “You’re here because you have information, Namet. Information that’s valuable to certain people. You could change the galaxy with what you know.”

I ponder her words, trying to grasp their meaning. Information. Valuable. The concepts feel foreign, yet tantalizingly close to the surface.

The clock chimes again, and I brace myself for the wave of forgetfulness that follows. But this time, something is different—a flash of insight, a moment of clarity that pierces the veil of confusion.

I remember a choice, a terrible but necessary one in the face of danger. I had volunteered, it was quick and painless—a way to induce my forgetfulness, a flash of light, and an hour of knowing before my memories reset. It was a desperate measure to protect secrets that could not fall into the wrong hands. I knew at that moment if the secrets got out millions would bear the consequences. On a planet with close to a hundred billion residents, it didn’t seem like much, but at that moment a few million was worth it. The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the darkness of my mind.

“I did this to myself,” I whisper, the words tasting strange on my tongue—as if they’d developed an aftertaste waiting to be realized.

Dr. Elara’s expression softens. 

“Yes, Namet. You chose to forget, to safeguard what you know. It’s both a curse and a blessing. You will never have to know them.” She points down at the table, and I see it. The table was no longer a steel tableau, in its place sat a photograph of me and people I could not remember. Their faces had a familiarity bordering on familial… yes they were. 

My family, my oldest, and my youngest. 

The truth settles in my chest, heavy and profound. 

I am both the keeper and the thief of my own memories. My captors may hold me in this orbital prison, but they cannot access the vault of knowledge locked within my mind.

As the hour draws to a close, I feel the memories slipping away once more. But this time, I welcome the forgetfulness. It is my shield, my armor against those who seek to exploit me.

I am Namet, the man who chose to forget, to protect something I cannot remember. And as the space station orbits silently, a haven amidst the stars, I embrace the cycle of remembrance and loss, knowing that my sacrifice could not have been in vain.