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Memento
Click. Click. Click.
There’s something off about the noise, of footsteps-against-tiles, but, like some half-remembered dream, it keeps slipping away from me.
"….can provide." The doctor walking at my side looks over at me.
I shake my head. "Could you repeat that again, please?"
We’re walking down a corridor, with white-washed walls and a tiled floor. Smells like a hospital. The overpowering citrine smell of well-starched sheets, and coats, and polished steel, and food on trays, and needles, and wires, and –
"It’s a nice place," says the doctor. "The best care we can provide."
Of course it is. I try and focus. A crash. Blood. So much blood. The man next to me is still talking.
"…of it?"
He catches the look on my face, and pre-empts the question this time. “I asked what you thought of it? The machine? It’s an option, you understand. Preserve her consciousness. A world of her own.”
The images won’t go away. Windscreen and bone. A woman, screaming. The thick smell of acrid smoke. “There was a car accident…” I murmur.
He nods hurriedly. "Yes, a terrible affair. But I’m afraid time is rather, well, of the essence, you see. Too long, and there’s nothing left for us to, ah, retrieve." His tone is urgent, his eyes alert. He doesn’t break his stride as he speaks. It’s a long hallway.
Click. Click. Click.
I think for a moment. "You can ask her, can’t you? Put her in a sim, ask her there, switch her off if she refuses?"
"We, ah, could, yes. But I’m afraid that would involve informing her that she is, in fact, in a sim, the knowledge of which we wouldn’t be able to, ah, redact, so to speak." The man licks his lips, words dancing on the edge of something.
I keep walking. It’s a long hallway. "I’m not seeing a problem."
"How would you handle the knowledge that you were the only, ah, real person in the world, hmm? The only real thing full-stop, as it were? And not just now, not just today, but for the rest of existence?"
“But I –”
The man in the coat pre-empts the question again. “As far as she’d know, you would have perished in the accident. Over time, I imagine, she would, ah, forget.”
Click.
Click.
Click.
Understanding dawns on me, slowly, subtly, slotting into place as I struggle to formulate a question. And then it settles, silently, and there’s nothing left but a calm consideration. I keep walking.
It’s a long hallway.
"How long now?"
The man in the white coat – if he is, in fact, a man – stares off into space, his eyes distance, listening for something. To something. "Two or three minutes, give or take."
Not long. "And at the end?"
The man pauses, licks his lips. "The, ah, end?" he repeats.
"Of the hallway. Beyond the door, if there is one."
I watch his face change as it clicks for him, too. There’s something there for a moment – is it pity? Respect? Some grim resolution? – until he looks away, and when he looks back, his expression is softer, more kind.
"Oh. I see. That, I’m afraid, is the subject of a vast amount of, ah, speculative literature, on which I’m afraid I am not, as it were, an expert." His tone is apologetic, and awkward.
Silence falls, save for my footfalls.
Click.
Click.
Click.
"For what it’s worth," he adds, "I’m sorry."
"We were going to the beach," I say. "That’s all it was meant to be. A Saturday morning off. That’s all."
The doctor slows down, matching my pace. "I’m sorry, I truly am."
"The kids –"
"Will be looked after. As will your wife."
I nod. We’re almost there.
“I’ll miss her."
"As she, no doubt, I must say, will miss you."
I pause in-front of the door. Two steps, maybe three.
"Are you sure?"
I look at it, up and down. It’s a simple affair. White coat, silver handle. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Something ornamental, perhaps. Something symbolic.
I suppose the hallway is symbol enough.
I nod. The man in the white coat looks me up and down, nods, and, with one last sad smile, vanishes in a blur of pixels.
I step forward, towards the door, single footsteps clicking on the white tiled floor.
Click.
Click.
Cli-
There’s something off about the noise, of footsteps-against-tiles, but, like some half-remembered dream, it keeps slipping away from me.
"….can provide." The doctor walking at my side looks over at me.
I shake my head. "Could you repeat that again, please?"
We’re walking down a corridor, with white-washed walls and a tiled floor. Smells like a hospital. The overpowering citrine smell of well-starched sheets, and coats, and polished steel, and food on trays, and needles, and wires, and –
"It’s a nice place," says the doctor. "The best care we can provide."
Of course it is. I try and focus. A crash. Blood. So much blood. The man next to me is still talking.
"…of it?"
He catches the look on my face, and pre-empts the question this time. “I asked what you thought of it? The machine? It’s an option, you understand. Preserve her consciousness. A world of her own.”
The images won’t go away. Windscreen and bone. A woman, screaming. The thick smell of acrid smoke. “There was a car accident…” I murmur.
He nods hurriedly. "Yes, a terrible affair. But I’m afraid time is rather, well, of the essence, you see. Too long, and there’s nothing left for us to, ah, retrieve." His tone is urgent, his eyes alert. He doesn’t break his stride as he speaks. It’s a long hallway.
Click. Click. Click.
I think for a moment. "You can ask her, can’t you? Put her in a sim, ask her there, switch her off if she refuses?"
"We, ah, could, yes. But I’m afraid that would involve informing her that she is, in fact, in a sim, the knowledge of which we wouldn’t be able to, ah, redact, so to speak." The man licks his lips, words dancing on the edge of something.
I keep walking. It’s a long hallway. "I’m not seeing a problem."
"How would you handle the knowledge that you were the only, ah, real person in the world, hmm? The only real thing full-stop, as it were? And not just now, not just today, but for the rest of existence?"
“But I –”
The man in the coat pre-empts the question again. “As far as she’d know, you would have perished in the accident. Over time, I imagine, she would, ah, forget.”
Click.
Click.
Click.
Understanding dawns on me, slowly, subtly, slotting into place as I struggle to formulate a question. And then it settles, silently, and there’s nothing left but a calm consideration. I keep walking.
It’s a long hallway.
"How long now?"
The man in the white coat – if he is, in fact, a man – stares off into space, his eyes distance, listening for something. To something. "Two or three minutes, give or take."
Not long. "And at the end?"
The man pauses, licks his lips. "The, ah, end?" he repeats.
"Of the hallway. Beyond the door, if there is one."
I watch his face change as it clicks for him, too. There’s something there for a moment – is it pity? Respect? Some grim resolution? – until he looks away, and when he looks back, his expression is softer, more kind.
"Oh. I see. That, I’m afraid, is the subject of a vast amount of, ah, speculative literature, on which I’m afraid I am not, as it were, an expert." His tone is apologetic, and awkward.
Silence falls, save for my footfalls.
Click.
Click.
Click.
"For what it’s worth," he adds, "I’m sorry."
"We were going to the beach," I say. "That’s all it was meant to be. A Saturday morning off. That’s all."
The doctor slows down, matching my pace. "I’m sorry, I truly am."
"The kids –"
"Will be looked after. As will your wife."
I nod. We’re almost there.
“I’ll miss her."
"As she, no doubt, I must say, will miss you."
I pause in-front of the door. Two steps, maybe three.
"Are you sure?"
I look at it, up and down. It’s a simple affair. White coat, silver handle. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Something ornamental, perhaps. Something symbolic.
I suppose the hallway is symbol enough.
I nod. The man in the white coat looks me up and down, nods, and, with one last sad smile, vanishes in a blur of pixels.
I step forward, towards the door, single footsteps clicking on the white tiled floor.
Click.
Click.
Cli-
the title, combined with some early dialogue being repeated, made me assume this was gonna be the same backwards-story gimmick from the movie Memento. it's not!
this has a clever idea, but it didn't hit me emotionally. I think the hints aren't subtle enough, it spells it out a little too cleanly. Also, I'm not too attached to this character, since he seems mostly indifferent and indecisive throughout the explanations. maybe if he had a strong emotional impulse one way or another, which he could reflect on later, the message here would carry some weight. I like the slow click-click for pacing here, but the moments in between are just a little too static.
this has a clever idea, but it didn't hit me emotionally. I think the hints aren't subtle enough, it spells it out a little too cleanly. Also, I'm not too attached to this character, since he seems mostly indifferent and indecisive throughout the explanations. maybe if he had a strong emotional impulse one way or another, which he could reflect on later, the message here would carry some weight. I like the slow click-click for pacing here, but the moments in between are just a little too static.
I'm not sure it clicked for me here. I can't really make head and tails of this. I’m left with more questions than answers, which is not a bad thing per se, but makes the reading a bit frustrating.
Is the women in the car the last human on Earth and the others are just whatever, programs?
In which case, I’m not sure what the door exactly symbolises: destruction or death?
Well, it’s not bad, it’s interesting, but just a teeny-tiny too obfuscated for my old neurones.
Is the women in the car the last human on Earth and the others are just whatever, programs?
In which case, I’m not sure what the door exactly symbolises: destruction or death?
Well, it’s not bad, it’s interesting, but just a teeny-tiny too obfuscated for my old neurones.
>>Monokeras I'm pretty sure the idea here is that HE is being temporarily preserved in the sim and they just use the comment about the wife to judge whether or not he wants to live like that, since informing him directly would be a problem. He chooses to die at the end.
Anyhow, this is fine. Solidly written and a good idea, but there isn't really anything here that super excites me, probably because we don't have much to cling to. It's a moving enough choice, but without knowing anything about the character there isn't really a particular reason to really care about him or his family.
Anyhow, this is fine. Solidly written and a good idea, but there isn't really anything here that super excites me, probably because we don't have much to cling to. It's a moving enough choice, but without knowing anything about the character there isn't really a particular reason to really care about him or his family.
Neat piece here. I can certainly see how it would be confusing, but didn't have trouble following it myself. >>AndrewRogue and I have the same read on it. I liked the implication that the wife set up this situation using the same logic the husband does. I might be reading into the piece a bit, but I think even the suggestion works to emphasize the closeness of their relationship.
The downside here is that once the gimmick is successfully communicated, and the reader's looking past that, the piece isn't very emotionally compelling. (At least, not to me, and the other comments all mention similar sentiments.) Going click click click through a featureless hallway just doesn't do much for me with this presentation. It's a life or death situation, but there isn't much sense of drama.
I think the protagonist's nihilism is largely responsible for that. Right from the start, he's completely dismissed the doctor, isn't listening, obviously doesn't believe life in a sim is worth anything, and never seriously considers any other course of action. That last bit is a killer, the ending has no tension because the piece never seriously suggests that he might consider the sim as an option. He's never conflicted, and thus, the story arc lacks conflict.
Also, maudlin minis about justifying or exploring reasons for suicide are suuuuuuuuper duper played out as a Writeoff motif. It's like the Sad Sunbutt of Original Mini. Of course, there's no way to know if this author was aware of that or not, it might well be their first round here, but unfortunately the overplayed genre colors my reaction to the piece nonetheless. I really wish the piece had concentrated more on the sim aspect, since that's what sets this apart from any number of other psychopomp stories.
Pacing and prose are good, though, and as mentioned I did like some of the subtler characterization devices. You're on the right path, author. Work on more explicit characterization and a punchier take on themes, don't be afraid to take a few more risks, and you'll go far. Thanks for writing!
The downside here is that once the gimmick is successfully communicated, and the reader's looking past that, the piece isn't very emotionally compelling. (At least, not to me, and the other comments all mention similar sentiments.) Going click click click through a featureless hallway just doesn't do much for me with this presentation. It's a life or death situation, but there isn't much sense of drama.
I think the protagonist's nihilism is largely responsible for that. Right from the start, he's completely dismissed the doctor, isn't listening, obviously doesn't believe life in a sim is worth anything, and never seriously considers any other course of action. That last bit is a killer, the ending has no tension because the piece never seriously suggests that he might consider the sim as an option. He's never conflicted, and thus, the story arc lacks conflict.
Also, maudlin minis about justifying or exploring reasons for suicide are suuuuuuuuper duper played out as a Writeoff motif. It's like the Sad Sunbutt of Original Mini. Of course, there's no way to know if this author was aware of that or not, it might well be their first round here, but unfortunately the overplayed genre colors my reaction to the piece nonetheless. I really wish the piece had concentrated more on the sim aspect, since that's what sets this apart from any number of other psychopomp stories.
Pacing and prose are good, though, and as mentioned I did like some of the subtler characterization devices. You're on the right path, author. Work on more explicit characterization and a punchier take on themes, don't be afraid to take a few more risks, and you'll go far. Thanks for writing!
I'm glad >>AndrewRogue offered his interpretation, because my interpretation of the story (which the text also seems to support, though not as cleanly) was that they had both been fatally injured and that the man was posthumously being given control over his dying wife's fate, which is creepier, in not a good way.
I'm still struggling to follow the story's logic, though:
... So they have an ethical issue with informing simulated people of their sim-ness ... which we learn by them bringing up the concept of simulation to a simulated being, in a way that causes him to realize he's simulated? :P
I mean, ultimately, he doesn't have a problem with it (as he says next line), so it ends up being a somewhat gentle prod into the concept, and it ends up working out. But if it's being up in the context of consent being a concern, it's also being brought up in such a way as to blow through to the topic before consent is obtained.
Honestly, the more I think about this, the more the fridge logic is gnawing at me. What sort of simulation is this where the simulated individual is "the only, ah, real person in the world, hmm"? Is this set in a parallel Earth where they've created insanely powerful computers but have never heard of the Internet? Surely any simulated reality constructible via modern technical principles would have some sort of interconnection capabilities.
Why is the man being asked if he wants to remain in the sim if death is two minutes out no matter what he does? And why, if they have the capability to indefinitely extend his life, is he not being given the ability to schedule his own death? Putting a deadline on this is extremely disorienting, regardless of which scenario above is true.
I do have to give the story credit: it does seem to hold up under its own internal logic. I'm just left wondering how that internal logic would work in the real world, and awfully dissatisfied with the answer. That seems like a different class of problem from the issues I've been complaining about with most of the other stories.
I do also, in the abstract, like how the style here (the abstract, clipped feeling of the sparse prose and short sentences) supports the tone of the piece. It does give it something of a haunting feel. That's a bit of a two-edged sword; it makes it harder to connect emotionally with the piece's core thrust, as well (as other readers have noted). Still, despite all my complaints, I think this at least meets its storytelling goals, so while I'm not particularly satisfied with my read, I'm going to bump it up my slate accordingly.
Tier: Strong
I'm still struggling to follow the story's logic, though:
I think for a moment. "You can ask her, can’t you? Put her in a sim, ask her there, switch her off if she refuses?"
"We, ah, could, yes. But I’m afraid that would involve informing her that she is, in fact, in a sim, the knowledge of which we wouldn’t be able to, ah, redact, so to speak." The man licks his lips, words dancing on the edge of something.
... So they have an ethical issue with informing simulated people of their sim-ness ... which we learn by them bringing up the concept of simulation to a simulated being, in a way that causes him to realize he's simulated? :P
I mean, ultimately, he doesn't have a problem with it (as he says next line), so it ends up being a somewhat gentle prod into the concept, and it ends up working out. But if it's being up in the context of consent being a concern, it's also being brought up in such a way as to blow through to the topic before consent is obtained.
Honestly, the more I think about this, the more the fridge logic is gnawing at me. What sort of simulation is this where the simulated individual is "the only, ah, real person in the world, hmm"? Is this set in a parallel Earth where they've created insanely powerful computers but have never heard of the Internet? Surely any simulated reality constructible via modern technical principles would have some sort of interconnection capabilities.
"How long now?"
The man in the white coat – if he is, in fact, a man – stares off into space, his eyes distance, listening for something. To something. "Two or three minutes, give or take."
Why is the man being asked if he wants to remain in the sim if death is two minutes out no matter what he does? And why, if they have the capability to indefinitely extend his life, is he not being given the ability to schedule his own death? Putting a deadline on this is extremely disorienting, regardless of which scenario above is true.
I do have to give the story credit: it does seem to hold up under its own internal logic. I'm just left wondering how that internal logic would work in the real world, and awfully dissatisfied with the answer. That seems like a different class of problem from the issues I've been complaining about with most of the other stories.
I do also, in the abstract, like how the style here (the abstract, clipped feeling of the sparse prose and short sentences) supports the tone of the piece. It does give it something of a haunting feel. That's a bit of a two-edged sword; it makes it harder to connect emotionally with the piece's core thrust, as well (as other readers have noted). Still, despite all my complaints, I think this at least meets its storytelling goals, so while I'm not particularly satisfied with my read, I'm going to bump it up my slate accordingly.
Tier: Strong
Nice story.
I follow the ending but I think many readers may be confused about which path happened. It doesn't seem like walking through the door should indicate the protagonist not entering the sim, even though I'm neigh-certain that's what your intent was. It's confusing because the action represents inaction. I think this needs some fixing, no matter what you mean.
I didn't mind the arbitrary deadline as horizon did, but I don't understand why there can be no communication between the sim and the world. If they can communicate with a brain in a sim-like environment, why can't the sim keep in touch with the outside world? And if they can't communicate with the outside world, why even bother, from the perspective of those on the outside?
I follow the ending but I think many readers may be confused about which path happened. It doesn't seem like walking through the door should indicate the protagonist not entering the sim, even though I'm neigh-certain that's what your intent was. It's confusing because the action represents inaction. I think this needs some fixing, no matter what you mean.
I didn't mind the arbitrary deadline as horizon did, but I don't understand why there can be no communication between the sim and the world. If they can communicate with a brain in a sim-like environment, why can't the sim keep in touch with the outside world? And if they can't communicate with the outside world, why even bother, from the perspective of those on the outside?
This was actually pretty decent. There's a lot of sad emotions underlying this piece, and they were used to good effect. I also liked the doctor's constant verbal tick ("ah"); it made him feel a bit more unique in such a short story. The one problem I have is that it's a bit hard to determine exactly what the nature of the story is: Is it a computer simulation, or a life after death? I get that it's supposed to be ambiguous to a degree, but the ambiguity here didn't feel like a natural part of the story. On the whole, however, this was a very strong story.
8/10, I hope I shall wake up soon
8/10, I hope I shall wake up soon
Memento Retro
I think this is the highest I've ever placed. New PB! Congratulations to all involved, especially ye medalists.
Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Reviews in general seemed to be a lot...friendlier than other rounds? Lots of solid encouragement. The story was pretty much as >>AndrewRogue described it:
I definitely could've done the voicing of the perspective character a lot better, as a lot of you noted. I think the short stories reach their peak when they explore interesting ideas not to explore the ideas themselves, but to explore them in the context of human relationships; that's something that this piece failed to do. I'll probably convert this to ponyfic, and use the extra word space to flesh it out and develop the persona a little better.
>>Not_A_Hat
Thanks for taking the time to leave a voice review! The shift from horizontal to vertical clicks was meant to highlight the man's realization that there's only a single pair of footsteps despite there being two people walking; at the end, when the 'doctor' vanishes, the pattern doesn't change. In retrospect, it probably doesn't add much to the piece.
>>Ranmilia
Fair enough.
Also fair. Thanks for leaving a detailed review in spite of that! I'll definitely try and shift the focus away from the setting in the rewrite, and focus more on exploring the issues surrounding the simulation.
>>horizon
Can confirm, gaping plot hole that I just sort of left there.
More good points that definitely need to be addressed in the rewrite - cheers for the comprehensive feedback.
>>Trick_Question
The idea was that walking through the door was him exiting the sim. Hopefully that'll be clearer once I clean up the internal logic.
>>libertydude
Glad you enjoyed it. Cheers for the review.
>>Haze >>Monokeras
Having these as the first two reviews was mind-numbingly frustrating :P
I think this is the highest I've ever placed. New PB! Congratulations to all involved, especially ye medalists.
Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Reviews in general seemed to be a lot...friendlier than other rounds? Lots of solid encouragement. The story was pretty much as >>AndrewRogue described it:
I'm pretty sure the idea here is that HE is being temporarily preserved in the sim and they just use the comment about the wife to judge whether or not he wants to live like that, since informing him directly would be a problem. He chooses to die at the end.
I definitely could've done the voicing of the perspective character a lot better, as a lot of you noted. I think the short stories reach their peak when they explore interesting ideas not to explore the ideas themselves, but to explore them in the context of human relationships; that's something that this piece failed to do. I'll probably convert this to ponyfic, and use the extra word space to flesh it out and develop the persona a little better.
>>Not_A_Hat
Thanks for taking the time to leave a voice review! The shift from horizontal to vertical clicks was meant to highlight the man's realization that there's only a single pair of footsteps despite there being two people walking; at the end, when the 'doctor' vanishes, the pattern doesn't change. In retrospect, it probably doesn't add much to the piece.
>>Ranmilia
Going click click click through a featureless hallway just doesn't do much for me with this presentation.
Fair enough.
Also, maudlin minis about justifying or exploring reasons for suicide are suuuuuuuuper duper played out as a Writeoff motif. It's like the Sad Sunbutt of Original Mini.
Also fair. Thanks for leaving a detailed review in spite of that! I'll definitely try and shift the focus away from the setting in the rewrite, and focus more on exploring the issues surrounding the simulation.
>>horizon
So they have an ethical issue with informing simulated people of their sim-ness ... which we learn by them bringing up the concept of simulation to a simulated being, in a way that causes him to realize he's simulated? :P
Can confirm, gaping plot hole that I just sort of left there.
Surely any simulated reality constructible via modern technical principles would have some sort of interconnection capabilities.
Why is the man being asked if he wants to remain in the sim if death is two minutes out no matter what he does? And why, if they have the capability to indefinitely extend his life, is he not being given the ability to schedule his own death? Putting a deadline on this is extremely disorienting, regardless of which scenario above is true.
More good points that definitely need to be addressed in the rewrite - cheers for the comprehensive feedback.
>>Trick_Question
It doesn't seem like walking through the door should indicate the protagonist not entering the sim, even though I'm neigh-certain that's what your intent was.
The idea was that walking through the door was him exiting the sim. Hopefully that'll be clearer once I clean up the internal logic.
>>libertydude
Glad you enjoyed it. Cheers for the review.
>>Haze >>Monokeras
I think the hints aren't subtle enough, it spells it out a little too cleanly.
I can't really make head and tails of this.
Having these as the first two reviews was mind-numbingly frustrating :P