Neurovance

Chapter 107

My N-car pulled up to the shiny new sister campus that Milo and I had been working on as a side project for the last five years.

After watching Sebastian’s memories and realizing that it had been him who had made NOVA feel so human to me this whole time, I’d thrown myself into restoring her, hoping I could save as much of the learned behavior she’d acquired from him over the years as possible.

Once I’d managed to get her back online, she’d informed me that Sebastian had already left instructions for Daniel Donnovan—the lawyer who had pulled Milo out of that interrogation room all those years ago—on what to do when I inevitably contacted him.

Apparently, Seb had been working with Daniel in the background to find a loophole in Luke’s will, and Daniel assured me that after several years, countless books, and more cigars than his wife approved of, Daniel had been able to find enough of a mistake in the wording to challenge the will.

Sebastian had made it clear that everything was to go to me, and after a few months of drawn-out legal bullshit, Neurovance was officially mine on paper.

Dr. Grey had the audacity to reach out after the press conference Milo and I had attended to announce the transfer of ownership, and I’d told him in no uncertain terms that if I ever saw him again, I would kill him.

He hasn’t contacted me since.

I still toyed with the idea sometimes of hunting him down and killing him anyway… but I wasn’t willing to risk the peace I’d found with Milo over murdering a high-profile government official for my own revenge.

If he’d been the one to torture Sebastian, I might have done it, but he hadn’t been. It had been Luke.

All of this had been Luke.

There was a crowd of people and several members of the press already gathered at the entrance of the massive, red brick building, and I smiled at Mira, who was waving frantically at the car as we approached.

Milo’s mother was doing much better now. After we’d gotten in touch with Daniel, he’d helped us deal with the aftermath of the attack Luke had pitted against us at my father’s cabin.

We’d moved back into the city, and I’d had Mira reinstated into a facility that I knew for a fact wasn’t connected to Neurovance or Luke’s influence in any way. After several months of intensive therapy, Mira was back to her old self.

Flanked by her new personal security guard and Daniel Donnovan, she was absolutely glowing in a bright floral sundress, beaming from ear to ear. Like the loving mother she was, she was clearly so proud of us for how far we’d come.

“The sign looks great,” Milo whispered next to me as we passed the massive, hedge-framed stucco sign that said: ‘The Sebastian Stevens Art Therapy Foundation,’ and my throat rolled with emotion at the sight of it.

The building itself was done in a more traditional design than anything you might see on the main Neurovance campus.

We’d designed it to look and feel like a massive home.

There were lush walls of ivy that Milo insisted on putting in, considering my childhood home had one, and he wanted this place to feel like somewhere Sebastian would have felt safe.

The idea for the foundation was that it would be a completely free, live-in art therapy facility for people who were victims of domestic violence.

Memory therapy was an optional perk that we offered, but that wasn’t the main therapeutic area that was explored here.

We’d worked diligently to track down some of the most renowned art therapists in the country and managed to convince them to move to California to work here full-time.

I’d promised them all generous employment packages and made it difficult for them to say no.

Accommodations were offered to staff if they wanted them, but they were not mandatory, and of course, no one was expected to stay on site full-time.

“It’s perfect,” Milo beamed, and I squeezed his hand, reveling at the warm, hard press of his ring against my fingers.

He was officially mine now, and he was wearing the ring to prove it.

He was mine, and we were safe, and today, we were honoring the man who’d given everything up to make it possible for us to be here.

One of the event coordinators we’d been working with—Tanya, I think her name was—came forward. She was in red bottoms and an all-black skirt-suit that matched her sleek headset.

“Oooo! Look at those big scissors!” Milo beamed, nearly dancing on his tippy toes in excitement. “I have always wanted to cut a big red ribbon like this.”

Tanya laughed, smiling warmly at Milo. “Yes, Jay has informed me that you must absolutely be the one to cut the ribbon. Don’t worry.”

Milo grinned at me, and I kissed him on the forehead.

“Now, we were thinking you could say a few words, Mr. Reynolds. Then Milo could cut the ribbon. After that, we can wrap up with a press tour,” Tanya said, running through the agenda on her itinerary.

“That sounds perfect,” I agreed, tugging Milo to follow me as I made my way toward the small podium that stood next to the wide, stone steps leading up to the massive building.

The long red ribbon was tied between the black iron banisters on each end of the staircase, and I chuckled at the way Milo eyed it longingly.

He was so fucking cute, I could barely stand it.

Once I was settled behind the podium with Milo standing quietly to my right, I turned to face the crowd.

I pulled out my speech from my inside coat pocket, though I doubted I would need it.

I’d had the words inked on these pages memorized for years now.

I’d read them countless times, alone in the dark, and I sometimes referenced them to help me manage the deep, soul-aching grief I still suffered from after losing Sebastian.

So, when I was ready to speak, I didn’t look at the papers. I looked at the crowd.

“I am a haunted man,” I began, making sure I met the eyes of several members in the audience.

“I’m haunted by memories so dark that I’ve often wondered if they might break me.

I’m burdened with memories soaked in pain and violence.

I have memories so heartbreaking that even referencing them here, now, I worry I might fall apart…

but the memories that hurt me the most are the ones wrought with guilt. ”

I swallowed, blinking back the burn of tears, before forcing myself to continue.

“There are many things I’ve done that I regret. Mistakes I’ve made. People I’ve hurt… People I’ve left behind and abandoned… People who deserved better from me. People who needed me in their darkest hours, only for me to selfishly look away and ignore their pain.”

This time, I did pause, worried for a moment that the anguish I felt over letting Sebastian down might overtake me.

Milo squeezed my hand, and I glanced at him, taking strength from his quiet presence. When I was ready, I turned back to face the crowd again.

“As many of you know, I invented the NeuroExtractor 1.0 at twenty-five years old.”

The crowd nodded in acknowledgment, and I pursed my lips.

“So why don’t I delete these memories that haunt me if they cause me so much grief?

I have access to technology. All it would take is a quick, non-invasive procedure, and I could forget everything I’ve done to cause myself so much pain.

” I glanced at Milo again briefly before tapping the papers in my hand on the podium to straighten them.

“Well, when the night is dark, and I find myself wishing for the quick relief I know extraction would offer, I think of the words of none other than one Mr. Milo Murphy, my now fiancé.”

The crowd gasped, and Milo’s jaw dropped, causing me to smile.

I flashed the papers at the crowd and waited for them to settle down over the announcement of our engagement before continuing.

“What I’m holding here is the application essay Milo submitted nearly seven years ago, when he was looking for a job at Neurovance. It’s actually how we met.

“Now, keep in mind, Milo wrote this essay years before the first manipulator was ever invented. Memory manipulation was just a pipe dream at this point… but this essay shows how ahead of his time he was, and why I clearly fell so quickly in love with him. I’m going to read it to you now.”

The crowd seemed to hold its breath, and I cleared my throat to begin.

Reshaping Memory Therapy: A Proposal

By: Milo Murphy

I’ve spent my life being the butt of most jokes.

I’m clumsy, disorganized, and I tend to get flustered and overwhelmed at social events. While I know these are all things someone probably shouldn’t put on a job application… hear me out.

Because I’ve never really fit in anywhere, I know the sting of humiliation well. And while I’m often cringing internally at the various embarrassing memories I have to choose from, I tend to find myself wondering why I don’t just make an appointment to extract them.

Well, for one, elective NeuroExtraction is a little outside of my budget. But, even if I could afford the procedure, I’m not always sure that I would.

Sure, some of my embarrassing memories I wouldn’t miss—like the memory of that time I walked face-first into a cafeteria door in front of my entire high school. Not sure I would mourn the loss of that one.

But… if I’m being honest with myself, most of my painful memories taught me something, and that’s why I’m writing this essay today.

People are not one-dimensional.

We’re complex, messy, and most of us are really just doing our best to survive in a world that is often not kind to us.

Our experiences shape us, and our memories allow us to hold onto those lessons, whether we want to or not.

Yes, learning that touching a hot stove may be painful, but forgetting that lesson would only result in the inevitable burn of touching the stove again.

I know that comparing deep trauma to the pain of a minor burn is a tad blasé, but the point I’m trying to make stands.

What if memory isn’t an obstacle to be removed, but a muscle to be trained?

What if every heartbreak was massaged to focus on the lessons that person taught you instead of the ache that lingers in their absence?

What if every failure was reframed to focus on the things we’d learned from trying, instead of the shame we feel from not succeeding?

What if every instance of abuse wasn’t a homage to all the ways the world has tried to break us, but instead, a shining example of how we always fight back?

What if we took all the memories we wish we could forget and used them to remind ourselves that we are not victims?

We are survivors.

While the development of Memory Extraction technology has changed the world, I believe we’re only halfway there.

It is my hope that in time, we can push this technology to a point where we don’t erase the painful parts of our pasts, but change the way we look at them, so that we can hold onto the strength that comes from learning those hard lessons.

And that’s why I’m applying to the open role of Memory Therapy Researcher. It would be a dream and an honor to play a role in developing technology that I know could bring so much strength and peace to those who’ve faced everything the world has thrown at them and refused to back down.

Looking forward to your response.

Kind Regards,

Milo Murphy

The crowd was silent as I finished Milo’s essay, and I let them sit with his words for a long moment before speaking again.

“Sebastian Stevens was not my brother in blood, but he was my brother in every way that mattered…”

It took everything in me not to choke on the lump in my throat so I could continue.

“The memories I have of Sebastian hurt me more than I can even put into words. The guilt that haunts me every day, knowing that he deserved someone to save him and I’d been too blind to see he even needed help…”

A hot tear rolled down my cheek, and Milo pressed closer to me, draping his arm around my waist in an attempt to ground me.

“But erasing my guilt would not only be selfish, it would also be dishonoring the memory of a man that should never be forgotten.

“Sebastian taught me that real love isn’t always loud. It is not transactional, and it can sometimes hurt more than it heals.

Sebastian taught me that love is sacrifice, and while love is not always kind to those who feel it, it is still an honor and privilege to receive it.

But most of all, Sebastian taught me that to truly love a person is to put their safety and happiness above your own without ever expecting anything in return… which is something Sebastian did for me for my entire life without me even knowing.”

Tears were freely flowing down both my cheeks now, and I squeezed Milo closer to me as I fought to keep my composure.

“While learning these things has caused me irreparable pain, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

I plan to take what Sebastian has taught me about love into my marriage, and I will pass these lessons down to any children we might have.

I cherish them, and Sebastian’s memory is precious enough to me that the sting of regret is worth more than the bliss of ignorance.

“While I can’t change the past, I can do my best to honor Sebastian now.

Something most people don’t know is that Sebastian never wanted to be in marketing.

His dreams of using his creativity to help others are just another thing on a long list of sacrifices he made in his life.

So, to honor him, Milo and I have created ‘The Sebastian Stevens Art Therapy Foundation,’ in the hopes that anyone who could benefit from the type of lessons Sebastian wanted to share with the world will have access to that knowledge and care… Milo? If you could do the honors.”

Milo nodded, his expression serious as he took the large scissors Tanya offered him.

He slipped the ribbon between the blades and paused before turning to look back at the crowd.

“To Sebastian!” he exclaimed, and I lost the battle with my tears as the crowd immediately cheered back.

“To Sebastian!” they cried, and Milo cut the ribbon.