Descending Road - A WAFER OF MEMORY by Dana W. Paxson

A WAFER OF MEMORY

0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1540

Miriam dozed. The bunk was broad enough for two, but little more than two feet separated each bunk from the level above it, making it a cramped and claustrophobic refuge. The odor of sweat and bad digestion and faded jism blanketed the room’s stale air. Miriam‘s fingers curled idly around the darkened splat-lamp she’d suckered to the forward deceleration wall next to her, thinking back one mind-year to Allan‘s last words to her as she went down into Sleep.

“See you at the other end, sweets,” he’d smiled. One mind-year ago, ten thousand and one Earth years. How long had he been dead? Dark spaces lay in her memory: macular amnesia, Elena had called it. They all had it; cosmic rays had blasted some of the frozen resonances from their brains. What had the thousands of years made her forget? She squeezed the base of the splat-lamp and it lit up in a soft yellow glow. Reaching into the inside pocket of her coverall top, under her left arm, she found the smooth surfaces of a millimeter-thick wafer the size of her palm, pulled it free, and cupped it in her hands.

This was all the personal effects Hau Ren had let her bring. She riffled it between her fingers, and it spread into a fan of images warmed in the dim gold illumination. Her mother and father looked back at her, smiling, their pain for her permanent departure evident only in that tiny crinkling at the corners of their eyes, as if, in making their eyes water and squint, the truth was hot sunlight.

She squeezed the spread-out wafer; the pressure of her fingers animated the image; a silent good-bye moved their lips; they waved to her. “Goodbye,” she whispered.

She riffled again, and now Allan grinned out at her from the Quito station, just before they had gone to the freezer. She squeezed the image, and silently he laughed and made a smooching kiss at her. The bunk’s smell penetrated; her memory lurched.

During a break one day in their preflight training in Earth orbit, Allan had played with her in freefall, both of them naked. The air had been stuffy in the small bare gray-padded chamber they’d used — the circulators hadn’t been working well — and they sweated profusely. Somehow the smell of him aroused her far beyond herself, and she took him in three times, getting higher each time until he began touching her in just the right place. She began to shake and shudder, unable to stop, until he brought her on in a clenching climax that had left her bruised and happy for days.

The recollection seized her with longing; for many minutes she clutched herself. Finally she packed the wafer back in its place and fell into a fitful doze.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	A WAFER OF MEMORY 0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1540 Miriam dozed. The bunk was broad enough for two, but little more than two feet separated each bunk from the level above it, making it a cramped and claustrophobic refuge. The odor of sweat and bad digestion and faded jism blanketed the room’s stale air. Miriam‘s fingers curled idly around the darkened splat-lamp she’d suckered to the forward deceleration wall next to her, thinking back one mind-year to Allan‘s last words to her as she went down into Sleep. “See you at the other end, sweets,” he’d smiled. One mind-year ago, ten thousand and one Earth years. How long had he been dead? Dark spaces lay in her memory: macular amnesia, Elena had called it. They all had it; cosmic rays had blasted some of the frozen resonances from their brains. What had the thousands of years made her forget? She squeezed the base of the splat-lamp and it lit up in a soft yellow glow. Reaching into the inside pocket of her coverall top, under her left arm, she found the smooth surfaces of a millimeter-thick wafer the size of her palm, pulled it free, and cupped it in her hands. This was all the personal effects Hau Ren had let her bring. She riffled it between her fingers, and it spread into a fan of images warmed in the dim gold illumination. Her mother and father looked back at her, smiling, their pain for her permanent departure evident only in that tiny crinkling at the corners of their eyes, as if, in making their eyes water and squint, the truth was hot sunlight. She squeezed the spread-out wafer; the pressure of her fingers animated the image; a silent good-bye moved their lips; they waved to her. “Goodbye,” she whispered. She riffled again, and now Allan grinned out at her from the Quito station, just before they had gone to the freezer. She squeezed the image, and silently he laughed and made a smooching kiss at her. The bunk’s smell penetrated; her memory lurched. During a break one day in their preflight training in Earth orbit, Allan had played with her in freefall, both of them naked. The air had been stuffy in the small bare gray-padded chamber they’d used — the circulators hadn’t been working well — and they sweated profusely. Somehow the smell of him aroused her far beyond herself, and she took him in three times, getting higher each time until he began touching her in just the right place. She began to shake and shudder, unable to stop, until he brought her on in a clenching climax that had left her bruised and happy for days. The recollection seized her with longing; for many minutes she clutched herself. Finally she packed the wafer back in its place and fell into a fitful doze.