Milo and I went down to the surgical room I’d used to reinstate his memories, and I got to work hooking Seb’s extractor to the NeuroTranslator. I was glad I’d taken the time to update the software so Milo could watch the memories with me, without having to know how to read NeuroGlyphs.
That is, if Seb’s thoughts manifested in pictures. If he had aphantasia, I would need to switch back to just the glyphs.
After a few minutes of tinkering, I was able to get everything hooked up, and relief flooded through me as one of Seb’s memories projected onto the wall.
I paused the memories and glanced at Milo, feeling anxious and desperate to see what Sebastian had wanted to show us.
“I don’t know how long this is going to be. Want to sit in the chair?”
Milo nodded, biting his lip. “Can we sit together?”
“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.”
I slipped into the large chair and patted my lap, indicating where I wanted him to sit. Milo climbed up, quickly finding a home between my thighs and leaning back against my chest.
“If it gets too hard, squeeze my hand,” Milo whispered, and I nodded, dropping a kiss on the back of his head before using the remote to hitplay.
I wrapped my arms around Milo, and together, we watched the abbreviated story of Sebastian’s life.
(Age 8)
My dad always said mean things about Mr. Reynolds. I didn’t understandwhy.If he hated him so much, why was he taking me to stay at his house?
I knew better than to ask, though.
That would get me in trouble.
So, I was quiet as my dad dragged me out of the car and up the steps to the two-story detached home that was supposed to be Mr. Reynold’s house.
This house was much smaller than ours. It was… cozier. Warmer. With red bricks and a lush green vine crawling up the side.
When we got up to the door, my dad didn’t have to knock. It opened right away.
I jumped, feeling surprised to find that it wasn’t Mr. Reynolds who’d opened the door, but a boy my age.
This boy had messy brown hair that stood out in all different directions. His copper eyes shone with excitement, and he was wearing a t-shirt that said‘Fueled bymitochondria’on it.
“Are you Sebastian!?” the boy exclaimed, and I blinked at him in surprise.
“Uhm. Yeah. That’s me.” I smiled at him, and the boy immediately reached out to grab my hand before dragging me inside.
“My dad said you were coming! What took you so long? Hey, do you like rocks? I have this cool polisher I want to show you…”
I had never really thought about whether I liked rocks or not, but something told me this boy was going to show me what I’d been missing out on in the rock world.
I glanced back at my dad, who was already on his phone and walking away.
I was used to him leaving me behind or handing me off to other people, but it still always sent a small spark of panic through me every time he did it. There was always this tiny hint of worry that maybe this time, he wouldn’t come back.
Usually, I felt lonely and sad when my dad abandoned me in strange places like this, but it was hard to feel that way with this boy excitedly yammering my ear off about all the different kinds of rocks a kid could find in their own back yards.
“What’s your name?” I asked, and the boy glanced back at me, smiling so wide it made me smile too.
“Jay, Jay Reynolds.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah. Wanna be friends?”
