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No one really remembered her. Maybe she really was there. Maybe she really didn’t exist. Maybe the only one who could remember her treated her unjustly. Maybe it was her leaving that broke the strange spell of remembrance. Uma was free but imprisoned once again.
She used this to her advantage. The midnight moon was just a faint glow from the city. No stars could penetrate the bright lights. A main castor of these bright lights came from a multi-leveled restaurant. Faint, booming music could be heard from behind its doors. It was crowded with many people, mostly young adults, talking with friends and having a drink. The place seemed inconspicuous; the perfect place to have a late night meal.
The food was greasy but good. She watched as a group of boys played pool on a nearby ramp. To replace stairs, ramps were built in the building instead. They curved around the rooms so they could be at a faint incline. The floor was incorporated with many tables games, like the pool game the boys were playing. It was an interesting place with dim lighting casting black and blue shadows on the walls and tables. Waiters in black shirts and blue aprons walked the area, carrying trays of food and a few carried garbage to trash cans for costumer convenience.
Maybe she really was finished with her food. Maybe the waiter really did come to take her tray of trash. Maybe she stood up and tightened her cloak. Maybe she really did walk out. Maybe someone saw her, and maybe they didn’t. Maybe someone else glanced at her and remembered her face. Maybe she is the one with the memory spell.
When she came to her mobile house, she found a strange cloaked figure standing outside her doorway. Curious at this surprise visit so late at night, Trisha approached him with her usual friendly smile.
“Good evening, miss,” Trisha greeted. The figure was clearly a woman of thin stature. She jumped at the greeting and calmed when she saw Trisha was friendly.
“Sorry to scare you,” Trisha continued. “You did as well. I wasn’t expecting visitors this late. Won’t you come in.”
The strange woman shook her head. “No, I really can’t,” she answered with a delicate voice. Trisha liked the musical ring it had to it. “I must be leaving.”
There was something about the woman as she turned away to leave. Maybe it was her radiated familiarness. Maybe it was her effect on the memory. Maybe it was her way with a strange magic. Or, maybe it was just Trisha wanting to be friendly.
“No, don’t!” Trisha called before the stranger could walk away. Trisha calmed her voice and continued. “It’s been so long since I had visitors. L:et us share some warm milk in the kitchen and I can hear your story.”
The stranger turned around and blinked at Trisha. Trisha could only imagine what was going through the stranger’s mind. They could be thoughts of defiance, or thoughts of hatred. In fact, they could be thoughts about anything.
The growing tension in the air flitted here and there in hopes of stirring something. As strong as tension can be, it is also as fragile as a plant leaf; so easily torn and broken. Which was why it disappeared when the mobile houses lights were turned on and out came a man fit enough to be Trisha’s husband.
“Trisha, what are you –” The man’s voice cut off at the sigh of the stranger.
Long, blonde hair lighter than the sun’s rays curled their way down past the strangers face and onto her shoulders. Her mouth seemed small when closed and pursed, but it was noticeable that it would glow big enough when it was opened. The cloak on her shoulders feebly hid her scrawny shoulders and figure from the light. Out of these features, the ones to stand out more were her eyes.
They were like Trisha’s, in that they were wide and slightly separated. In fact, they were almost the same one’s as Trisha’s. When Trisha’s husband took a step back and Trisha a step forward, it was clear that the two had the same face. The sort of news this brought was mixed, both bad and good.
Before the stranger could turn away again, Trisha grabbed the stranger’s bony wrist.
“Please,” Trisha pleaded in a whispered voice. “Come inside. WE have much to talk about.”
“But, honey,” her husband protested. But Trisha wouldn’t have any of it.
“No excuses, dear. Go inside and warm up some milk. We have so much to talk about.”
Maybe they won’t remember. Maybe the memory spell would be broken and they will. Maybe they’ll forget how she got there. Maybe she will be the one who can’t remember.
“My name is Trisha,” Trisha introduced. Then she indicated the man beside her. “This is my husband, Olin.”
Uma nodded and allowed her eyes to wander around the room. A counter separated the small kitchen area from the dining area. Everything was painted a pure shade of white, even the plastic cups they were using to drink their warm milk were white. It was hard to tell how much was left in the cup.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Enhanced?” Trisha asked. Uma froze, her cup halfway to her mouth. The Enhanced was a topic she discussed only with one other person. It was a topic that usually brought up horrifying memories for Uma. She had tried to cast a spell upon herself to force her to forget, but it backfired. Now only a select few could remember her face.
Uma lowered her cut, her eyes staring down at it. Trisha understood this as an affirmative answer to her question. She could also see more to Uma’s silent answer. Understanding the pain behind her eyes, she put a hand on Uma’s.
“It’s okay,” she consoled. “I understand. You don’t have to worry; your secret is safe with me.”
Maybe Trisha didn’t offer the guest room. Maybe she really did. Maybe Uma really did spend the night in a strange bed with a strange ceiling. Maybe the couple who owned the mobile house weren’t up late discussing the Enhanced woman who was staying with them. Maybe there really wasn’t a strange woman in their house. And maybe there was.
“Hey,” came a whispered greeting in Uma’s ear. She felt hot breath that smelt of freshly eaten breakfast batter and maple syrup.
“Heey,” came the same whisper again when Uma didn’t move the first time. “Momma says to wake you up for breakfast.”
This caused Uma’s eyes to flutter open. Before her face, at an uncomfortably close proximity, were two giant blue eyes of a small boy. His smile threatened to lead off his face when he saw Uma was awake.
“C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!” he cried at a fast pace. “Let’s go eat some breakfast!” He grabbed the older woman’s arm and started to pull it. Uma kept her ground. She didn’t think to bring sleeping clothes when she ran away, so she had stripped down to her undergarments for sleep. They were something not to be seen by small boys.
“Please, wait, I have to get dressed first,” Uma told the boy. He left and waited outside the door for her to finish.
The kitchen was blindingly bright in the early morning light. Trisha and Olin sat at the small table with pancakes and sausage half eaten on their plate. The young boy ran forward and sat in a chair, his destination the plate of small waffles and a scrambled egg.
“Good morning, Uma,” Trisha greeted with a friendly smile.
“What’ll it be?”
Uma looked to her right to the kitchen area. An old man stood with a spatula in hand and a smile on his face. Behind him, a frying pan sizzled and a toaster popped, exposing a brown bagal. The wonderful smells of the kitchen filled the air as Uma told the man what she would like for her breakfast.
Maybe she didn’t tell the man. Maybe she did. Maybe she enjoyed the food. Maybe she wasn’t there while Trisha and Olin listened to their son’s dream of adventures and evil scientists. Maybe the old man wasn’t making flirty comments in Uma’s direction. Maybe she wasn’t there at all.
Maybe that was why she donned the thin body suit. Maybe that was why she walked to the chest of the robot and entered the cockpit. Maybe she wasn’t there at all. Maybe she didn’t easily fuse with the robot. Maybe she didn’t feel a surge of power.
Alarms rang across the hangar. Mechanics scrambled to their positions, awaiting orders and carrying out general procedures. Inside the White Lady, a communications link was opened. Uma knew before she spoke that it was Trisha.
“Uma, there’s an emergency!” Panic was sung like a loud chorus in Trisha’s voice. “The Feds are attacking the area near the city. The test results show you’re an ace pilot. Will you help us defend the city?”
Memories of bloody battles and being a prisoner entered Uma’s mind. She knew that they would be transferred to the main console where Trisha was stationed. The pictures would reveal the majority of her past, but Uma couldn’t care. There was some ominous sense coming from the machine. She couldn’t understand what it was. Why couldn’t she understand?
“I can do my best,” Uma replied. “It’s been a long time, though.”
“I know.”
Was she the first to launch? Or was she the last? Maybe she was the only one. And that was why everything happened the way it did.
“Quick! Sever the main Mind Cable!”
“Cut her loose!”
“Doctor, vital signs are dropping!”
“Bring her to the stretcher!”
“What about the stairs?”
“Carry her down if you have to!”
Maybe it was happening. Maybe it wasn’t.
“What happened?”
“Give me a report!”
“Oh my god!”
“Wheel her away! Hurry!”
“Captain, what happened?”
“Doctor! How is she?”
“Get to work on the White Lady!”
Was all this real? Maybe it was just a dream.
“Doctor, vital sings are low!”
“Hook her up, nurse!”
“Give me a knife!”
“Brain waves are all over!”
“Don’t bother with the suit!”
“Oh . . . my . . . god!”
“Doctor, her health . . . .”
Was it wall just a bad dream? Was it all really happening?
“She’s passing out.”
“Get ready everyone.”
“They managed to bring you back for a short period of time,” she answered. “But you can’t talk because the rest of your body is dead.”
She gave a weak laugh. “Amazing what our bodies can do, huh? They said we would rule the world after the humans, but it’s them who are destroying us.”
Uma blinked. She wanted to comfort Trisha. Her tears came in water falls on her cheeks. Uma’s body was paralyzed and she was only living on borrowed time. She had to get her story out of her while she could.
She thought:
My husband didn’t know what I was until after we were married. He loved my eyes. He found out I was an Enhanced after our child. He murdered my baby before turning on me. Instead of him killing me, I killed him. And then I ran. I ran as far away as I could.
Tell your son that he’s lucky he gets to eat everyday. My child never got to eat.
Trisha screamed as Uma closed her eyes. She clutched the dead woman and cried, her wails alarming the nurses. They had to force her off and calm her down before Trisha got a final look at Uma. She held so many pains, and yet she looked so peaceful.
Trisha silently got up from her bed and walked to the guest room. Uma barely spent a week in that room. She would sleep in her undergarments and groan at her son’s early wake up calls. Her breakfast was usually a bagel with an egg. She would put the egg between the bagel pieces like a sandwich.
Yes, Trisha cherished the short lived memories. She remembered the night she met Uma, the first time they talked in her kitchen, and the heroic battle she fought against the Federation fighters. Trisha prized those memories and kept them on a golden disk in a small box.
Uma’s spell., which had back fired on her, had been broken.
