“I knew there could be side effects to the technology, even potentially some memory loss.” I stare at the backs of his hands, his strong hands that have wrapped around my body so many times, worked on our home, cooked me incredible meals, held me in sleep. “But I didn’t expect you to forgetme.”
Annie steps back, leaning against the counter and clearing her throat loudly in an overtYou should have listened to me.
Ignoring her, I reach for my notebook and press on. I can’t hug him or assure him everything will be okay, but Icanfigure out what’s going on and how to fix it. Which means we must document everything and figure out how far-reaching the side effects are. “Do you haveanymemories of who you are? Such as, your parents? Your work?”
Luca closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Finally, he blows out the exhale and looks at me, admitting, “No. It’s like—everything is blank.”
Nodding, I ask, “Do you remember my name?”
“Emery.”
“And hers?” I point to Annie.
“Annie.”
I make a note that the memory loss appears to be retrograde only. He can form new memories, but if I’m right, it’s almost like the protocol wiped his hard drive.
I point to the chair beneath me. “What is this called?”
“A chair.”
“What is that called?” I point again.
“A cabinet?”
“And inside the cabinet?”
“Um… I think beakers? Flasks? Dude, I don’t know. Am I a scientist, too?”
I shake my head. “No, you’re a landscaper. Sorry, the beaker one wasn’t fair. There isn’t a lot of normal stuff to point to in here.”
“How can I know how to speak and that what you’re sitting on is called a chair, but not remember that you’re my wife?”
“Memory is complex,” Annie says, and I’m delighted when Luca gives her ayeah, no shitlook. It’s a look I’ve seen him make a hundred times… usually when he’s teasing Crash or calling me out for an extradice roll while we’re playing Yahtzee. It’s soLuca, even if he doesn’t know it.
Annie explains the different types of memory and how, neurologically speaking, memories of life experiences are different than memories of names of objects or how to use them. And both of these types of memory are distinct from motor-related ones like riding a bike or driving. So it’s common in head injuries to see one but not another affected.
“Does that make sense?” she asks when she’s finished.
Luca tilts his head from side to side. “More or less.” He frowns. “How long is this going to last?”
I glance over at Annie, wincing. I hate it when she’s right. “We don’t know. I wish I could tell you that it will resolve. I think it will. But so far, we’ve only ever used the protocol on, um, on…”
When I trail off, Luca simply stares at me, waiting. Finally, he prompts: “You’ve only ever used it on what? Volunteers?”
“In a sense, yes,” I hedge.
“She’s trying to tell you that we’ve only ever done this to save dogs and cats that have been in fatal accidents,” Annie says finally.
Luca’s expression blanks. “Dogs and cats.”
“Yup,” Annie says, clearly enjoying that I’m about to get my ass handed to me. “That’s why we said it was experimental.”
“You’ve only ever done this on dogs and cats, and then you…” He frowns, trying to find the words for something that even I can admit is a pretty rough path, logically speaking. “You gave me, your husband, an experimental compound and put me in this machine as your first human test subject?”
“We brought you here—”
“She,” Annie corrects, pointing at me. “Shebrought you here.”
