It was an amazing opportunity. The scientists at the Institute for Memory and Cognition offered it to me. The basis for the procedure was a phenomenon known as Iterative Neuro-Chronological Displacement. By manipulating the laws of quantum mechanics, human minds could be sent back to their first moments of consciousness.
In effect, an adult mind could be sent back in time to carry out another iteration of their life. A do-over, in a manner of speaking.
So the IMC reached out to the public. Putting ads in papers, on popular websites, and even on television. I first heard about the IMC when I was sitting on my couch, as I often did in those days, watching reruns as I slowly drank myself into a stupor. Meredith had been dead four years and the grief had not subsided. I missed her every day. Thirty years of love, happiness, and laughter, brought to a sudden end by a drunk driver.
After she died, I had considered killing myself. It got pretty desperate until a friend helped me out and got me some therapy. The docs gave me some anti-depressants, which numbed the pain. I still thought about her everyday, every time I closed my eyes. It was unbearable.
So when that IMC ad shouted promises of "a second chance", "a new beginning", and "the chance to revisit lost loves", I was sold. I picked up the phone, fingers trembling with excitement as I dialed the numbers.
My appointment was scheduled for September 31st, 2015. I arrived at the IMC building that morning and was immediately greeted by technicians. They took me inside, put me in a one-piece bodysuit that was both hot and cold at once. They shaved my head, stuck metallic rods to my head, and plugged me into a variety of ports, jacks, and sockets. Machines whirred to life, lights came on, and I was plunged into darkness as the narcotic sedative took effect.
I remember waking in a bright room, unable to move, see, or hear. The next several months were a blur. I can barely remember them now. They told me that would happen, something about infant brains being unable to reconcile the INCD event. It wasn't until I was three that it all started coming back to me. Memories of an adult life, my life. My old life.
The first years of my life were exactly the same as they were before, I went to school, played with the neighborhood kids, and watched cartoons. It was like one long feeling of deja vu, always recognizing events, people, and places. By the time I was 18, I was ready to do what I had come here for.
I knew where to look for her. I knew her name. Meredith Waters. My wife. She was 19 now, living with her family the next town over. This was the year we met. I saved up money and took a bus to her town, already knowing exactly what to say. The day had gone exactly as it had the last time around, I knew success was guaranteed.
As soon as I arrived at her house, I knew something was wrong. The patio furniture, all wrong. The shutters, a different color. Even the cars parked in the driveway were different. Meredith's family would have never been able to afford cars that nice.
I ran to the door and knocked. I was greeted by an elderly asian woman.
"Hello, is Meredith Waters here?" I said.
"Um no, there is no Meredith Waters here. Penelope and Adam Waters lived here before me, but I understand that they died in a car accident. Drunk driver killed them both. Penelope was pregnant I think. Terrible tragedy..." said the asian woman, her voice trailing off as she frowned at the news she had just delivered.
I backed away from her, her porch, and that perverse house. The realizations washed over me. She doesn't exist this time around. No second chances, no do-overs, no new beginnings.
I screamed, I cried, and I begged. I begged the universe to give her back to me.
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