The Persistence of Memory (Mnevermind Trilogy Book 1) by Jordan Castillo Price

Author:Jordan Castillo Price
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: suspense, science fiction, memory, autism, gay romance, gay science fiction, madison, gay suspense, gay sci fi romance
Publisher: JCP Books

Chapter 10

My father was grinding a pen cap between his molars in the way he does when he wants a smoke. We don’t smoke around clients while they’re mneming—it’s unprofessional. Though we have been known to light up when it’s just us doing a quick run-through of a packet. I peeled off my man-o-war and felt a clammy finger of sweat trail down the back of my neck. My head felt like it’d been steamed. I glanced up at the clock and said, “Is that right?”

Big Dan nodded. “You were in while he got his jollies.”

I shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“I thought maybe it was another malfunction…like the twelve-shooter who kept you in all day.”

“No…I was having a look around, making sure it all checked out.”

“And did it?”

Was my shitty Serbian packet fit to pop my clients’ corks? Sure. But I figured it was time to own up to the real reason I wanted both my father and me in the sherpa-cap. “The guy you said you saw in my Love Connection…I’ve been seeing him too. But only as a mnemographer.” Though I couldn’t say for certain I hadn’t seen him in my mnem that morning, of course, I was pretty damn sure I would have written down more than “carnitas” if I had.

Big Dan looked up sharply, but he didn’t pepper me with leading questions about why it shouldn’t be possible to create mnem elements as a sherpa. Just the opposite. I could tell he was turning it around in his mind looking for a loophole that would make an anomaly like that possible.

“So when you peg Larry out,” I finished, “maybe you can poke around and see if you spot him again, too.”

My father swabbed out the cap with a wet wipe, then pulled it on his head, deep-breathing all the while. Two counts in, two counts hold, one count exhale. He’d hit alpha in no time; he was as good a sherpa as me. Hell, he probably would’ve been as good of a memorysmith as me. But one of us needed to hold down the fort while the other one was out learning how to actually do everything. An MS in mnemography costs as much as a luxury car, or a small house. And Big Dan wouldn’t hear of spending that kind of scratch on himself.

At the time, I’d been just about to turn forty, and he was sixty-two. Neither one of us spring chickens. Did we choose right? I dunno. Who’s to say the guy with six decades of life experience under his belt wouldn’t have written better packets?

Or maybe I wished I was the one who thought mom was still coming home.

Dad went quiet and soon I was the only one left with my eyes open. I glanced up and looked toward my bedroom door as if maybe I would spot the man in black there…but no. That would mean I was still mneming. I glanced at my hand. Traces of that morning’s ballpoint pen cross were still there, but I’d mostly sweated it off.

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