Hesitantly, she dives into another memory.
…Matilda is seven years old and reading her favorite book, Mythical Creatures from Around the World. The winter wind howls and hammers the window with snow, driving Matilda farther under the sheets. She’s been battling a cold for several days now, but despite feeling physically miserable, Matilda loves the time she’s spent with her father. He has even canceled his business trip to watch over her. With a reddened and runny nose, Matilda smiles and traces the Mythical Creatures with her fingers. In her imagination, she’s long made fast friends with the dragons, unicorns, fauns, and other beasts. Today she’s been reading about the ancient sphinx. She’s given them all names – and as Matilda herself is the princess, they all play with her every day.
A firm knock at the door interrupts her daily regimen of games. Poking her head out from under the sheets, Matilda watches her father enter the room, carrying a large tray. Excited, more of her body emerges from the warmth. Her father reminds her to rest and places a cup of hot tea in her small hands. Comforted by his presence, Matilda drifts off to sleep while her father reads in his sonorous voice about the protective lamassu…
In the memory, Matilda has trouble seeing the details of her father’s face. Part of her wants to access it again and focus, but she pushes forward to still another memory block.
…Twelve, now. Her school crush is having a birthday party, but her father won’t let Matilda attend. He says something about the party being “unsafe”, in a public place. Matilda doesn’t understand, nor does she particularly want to. All Matilda wants is to be like the regular kids. Her friends are nice, but most of the children look at her differently. How can a party be unsafe? Why would someone want to hurt her, to ‘get to’ him? Her father says something about his work, but she doesn’t understand. His work is the reason she so rarely gets to see him, and now it’s apparently why she can’t go to the party. Her father begins to say something else, but Matilda’s had enough. She storms off to her lonely room and cries into the pillows…
Exiting the memory, Matilda frowns. Such early recollections are more enticing, but she won’t learn much from them. With a distinct feeling of unease, she moves to a later node.
…Sixteen. Her childhood friend, Donna, has been invited to a Senior party and wants Matilda to tag along. Normally, she wouldn’t break curfew, but Matilda is still upset with her father. Yet another broken promise, due to work Maybe he’d pay more attention if she went missing for a night. With a little coaxing from Donna, Matilda now sits in a taxi, heading towards the party. Loud music, dancing, and the novelty taboo of alcohol all come as a slight shock to her, but Donna continues to offer her drinks. At first, Matilda feels great – but after a while, the room starts spinning. Despite Donna’s objections, Matilda knows it’s time to go home. In the cab, the spinning only intensifies.
Parts of the memory are blacked out.
…she vomits on the side of the road. Matilda doesn’t remember asking the driver to pull over. In fact, looking around, she can’t see the taxi anywhere. Matilda stumbles along the road, trying to keep the next muscle-seizing surge of puke down. Everything continues to list incessantly to the right, and now she hears the approach of a car from behind her, sees her shadow lancing out in front of her in the bright sweep of headlights. Matilda hears the sudden, piercing screech of tires from entirely too close behind – but her body reacts too slowly. The lights engulf her as the world around her falls apart…
Matilda flinches and crushes her eyes shut, already vividly envisioning the imminent impact – but before the car can hit, she is yanked away from and out of the memory. Pulled, against her will, through the universe of data. Back to the cabin.
No, not the cabin, she thinks.
Everything is still blurry, and the building rapidly dwindles out of sight below as she soars high above the forest. The talons holding her fast tighten as Matilda drifts back to sleep.
James is jolted awake by a tremendous crash that shakes the building. His first disjointed thought is that a bomb has gone off in the back room of the dilapidated cabin, but as he bursts into Matilda’s room, he’s left momentarily dumbstruck. The opposite cabin wall lies in ruins, sheared clean off along with a portion of the roof, the room smashed open to the surrounding trees and sky overhead.
James lifts his gaze just in time to register Matilda’s limp form, high in the air above and receding quickly, clutched in the talons of a massive, winged creature.
James doesn’t think or hesitate; he bounds through the ragged gap in the wall and sprints from the cabin towards an adjacent, ramshackle garage. He had planned to explore this building later – now he wishes he had spent the time examining it. Kicking down the door, James takes in the interior in an instant and utters a prayer of thanks to the System.
A rusted, green Bronco collects dust and cobwebs, yet somehow looks robust enough. The driver door opens with a rusty shriek as James throws his bag into the passenger seat. Scanning his database for access codes, he finds the make-and-model’s key code, and the vehicle groans to life. Hoping his luck will last a bit longer, James floors the Bronco right through the splintered, segmented wooden door and speeds towards the service road, the vehicle’s tires spitting gravel and pluming dust.
Looking over at his pack, James doesn’t know if he has something with enough power to stop the creature. Eyes back on the road, James curses and swerves to avoid a fallen tree obstructing the road. To the left, broken branches and tree tops litter the shoulder in a jumbled, brittle heap. James floors it again, and the rusted green brute scrambles over the obstruction, making its displeasure known.
“Next time, I don’t care, I’m sitting right in the goddamn room while she accesses the key—”
Steering with one hand, James reaches into his inventory for a weapon. Something with stopping power and a high rate of fire.
And accuracy, he thinks grimly, imagining Matilda clutched in the creature’s talons. His right hand flexes on the wheel.
Scanning the sky, James sees the distant outline of the flying creature. He steers the Bronco onto a wider connecting road, affording a less cluttered view above. He jams the gas pedal down and the Bronco accelerates, closing the distance. Reaching for his pack, he selects an assault rifle from the digital inventory and hopes it can get the job done. The creature makes a sharp, banking turn back towards the deeper forest. Swearing, the Taciturn cranks the wheel to match the new bearing. It’s too much for the old rusty beast, and James feels the irretrievable tip before the vehicle lurches out of control.
As the Bronco flips, he has just enough time to see the tree before he crashes into it.
Matilda awakens on the center stage of an outdoor theater. Unlike the rundown ranger station, this place appears tidy, well maintained. Sitting up, she rubs her forehead, hoping to drive away the wooziness. She remembers diving into her memories – so convincing, so vivid, yet still so fragmented, so—
With a start, she notices a little boy standing next to her.
“Uh, hey there, little guy. Are you okay?”
The boy doesn’t answer.
“All right. Do you have a name, maybe? Do… you know how I got here?”
His mouth doesn’t move, but Matilda hears a voice. In her head.
You’re here because I brought you. I had a name, a very long time ago. It was Matthew.