Quiet Interference

I didn’t leave my station right away. The lab had shifted into its quieter rhythm, the kind that settled in after most of the day’s work was accounted for but before anyone committed to leaving. Somewhere behind me, voices carried with an ease I never managed to replicate. I didn’t need to turn to know who they belonged to.

The same group of people who always caught my eye.

The great thing about memory readers is that they allow for a healthier way of living vicariously, for not gaining the fear of missing out. Because of this, friend groups remain strong even when far apart. Since only one of them needs to experience something interesting for the rest to revel in it.

This group was like that too. I saw them getting along more often without a reader than with one. Thinking back, I’m starting to realize only Amelia really uses them, always trying to show off her cute pet cat. It feels strange to comment on, considering I’ve only ever overseen the furball, but… it is a cute cat.

They were about to relive one of their events. Whether it was Garrett or Otto operating the reader this time, I wasn’t sure. The projection flickered as it always did, stabilizing into a familiar clarity. Rena laughed at a detail I couldn’t see, and Amelia rewound it just a second too far. My guess is that a cat was on display.

Seeing them get along so naturally always warmed my heart. They felt real, like they had nothing to hide and no appearances to keep. I’ve often wondered how I might fit into their group. I could imagine being friends with each of them individually, but together… I’d probably just be a fifth wheel.

As much as I wanted to stay, the lunch break had already started, and it was probably a good idea to eat today. On my way to the cafeteria, I thought about how I hadn’t been eating properly these past few days. I doubted it was stress. More likely, I was just forgetting.

Our lab ran a buffet-style lunch, just grab a tray and take what you wanted. Before even checking the other options, I made sure to grab a roll of citrus-scented bread. I wasn’t sure why, but seeing it always brought a smile to my face.

I found a quiet place to sit. Not so far that it felt isolating, but not close enough to invite conversation either. I chose it carefully, somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about being asked to move so someone else’s friend could take my seat.

I often hoped someone would join me, that I wouldn’t eat alone. At the same time, the idea terrified me. I wouldn’t know what to say or how to act. Maybe it was better this way.

I finished my lunch quickly and headed back to my station. On the way, I’d have to pass the same group again. I managed to overhear Rena calling someone hopeless, like she always did, before they even came into view. I briefly wondered if they’d eaten yet, but it didn’t feel like my place to ask.

As I passed them, I heard something I wished I hadn’t.

My mind tried to reject it, but the words planted themselves firmly at the forefront of my thoughts. My head grew fuzzy, and my started to blur. Even so, I kept moving. I made it back to my station, which felt farther away than before, and picked up where I’d left off. It was hard to focus, but working was better than remembering.

My breathing turned ragged, so I paused briefly to steady it. A few deep breaths helped me regain some composure, enough to distract myself with my work. Still, the thought wouldn’t leave. I didn’t want to accept it. I knew it wasn’t me back then, but knowing that didn’t help.

I shifted my attention to a request regarding new color options for the next “generation” of memory readers. It was ridiculous. A modular plate design would be far more practical than offering a handful of preset colors, and besides, color didn’t matter at all. Sometimes it felt like people forgot magic and technology weren’t mutually exclusive. We could use both. Easily.

As my internal rant ran dry, I could feel myself slipping again. I tried to keep the words I’d overheard from surfacing, but after what felt like an eternity, they did anyway.

It’s all my fault. I’m the one to blame.

That was the hard truth of it. There was no point distracting myself now. Funny how such an intense reaction came from something so loosely connected, how quickly it flared, and how quickly it burned out.

Even as I started to feel better, something felt wrong. It shouldn’t have passed so easily. I should still be confronting myself, facing the reality of it all. But the words were gone. The memories returned to hibernation.

This happened every so often, yet I never grew used to it. Each time felt like the first. And each time, I couldn’t remember it ever happening before until it was over.

I struggled to refocus, but I still gave my work everything I had, right up until it was time to leave.

The lab filled with the sounds of people shuffling around, draping lab coats over racks, keys clinking. I waited for it to quiet down before wrapping up, not wanting to disturb anyone on my way out. But before I could even turn to see how many people were still around, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I flinched.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

It was Otto.

“I noticed earlier you looked pretty pale,” he continued. “I wanted to check in, see if you were feeling alright. But you seemed really focused, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

My body relaxed once I realized nothing was wrong. At some point during his explanation, I’d turned to face him, I only noticed that now.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

My gaze drifted downward and off to the side before I continued.

“It’s been cold lately. I might be getting sick or something. But I feel fine. At least… I think I do.”

Otto chuckled softly, smiling.

“Glad to hear it, well, not the sick part. Let’s hope it’s not that.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to join us somewhere? We haven’t decided on anything yet, but since we work near each other all the time… figured we might as well hang out.”

His words stirred another voice in my mind. I’d been told not too long ago to accept the next invitation I received.

This time, I didn’t pad my response with apologies. I found the courage to say proudly, “Yes, I’d be glad to tag along. Thank you.”