The Escapement Mechanism, Part 16
Despite her persistence, acquiring consistent and permanent memories across timelines was not a problem Wemly solved. Like many seemingly impossible challenges in the Warner lab, it was Utsab who found the solution; however, unlike most, it was not dumped in his lap because a grad student wasn’t up to the task of their thesis. And much to Wemly’s horror, he only knew the problem existed because she forgot to activate the escapement mechanism.
She was deep into using heightened experience to more vividly recall what had occurred with the mechanism activated, and had the office scissors splayed like she was about to open a package. Utsab was watching her the entire time, unsure what had instigated her behaviour.
She smiled at Utsab and held his gaze, calmly slicing the back of her arm open, and raising it so the blood collected at her elbow. She intentionally made the wound look more gruesome than it was, holding the slow drip, then steady stream, over her chair and pants, letting it splatter the top of her shoes and cover a large area of the floor for maximum shock value. Wemly didn’t tap the escapement mechanism until Utsab was halfway to her in a mad rush of concerned panic. He was understandably losing his shit, screaming incoherent pleas and asking what the fuck she was doing. Wemly laughed in response and tapped her neck to unwind the crisis to the normal banality of the lab.
Nothing happened. Wemly panicked and pulled the device completely off her neck, gripping it with the paralyzing cold fear that had overtaken her. This memory wouldn’t fade, and the wound wasn’t going away. There would be a visit to the nurse’s station---she couldn’t fathom avoiding the psychologist---and stitches.
The realization that she had not activated the device became inescapable. She nearly vomited, and the fluorescent lights began to burst with stars in the periphery of her vision. Utsab was saying something to her, but the focus of what she could hear rapidly narrowed, replaced by a high-pitched squeal---her grandparents’ TV left on to no channel. When she tried to answer, she waved her hands unthinkingly, attempting to gesticulate her point.
Utsab caught her before she hit the floor.
Full awareness filtered slowly into Wemly’s consciousness like morning sunlight. This reset was unlike the others. All past experiments had been seamless, with no disorientation. Now she felt hungover, unable to corral the memories running wild. To her deep shame, she thought she had solved the mystery of the escapement mechanism. The memories were clear. Gapless. Not blurry snapshots stitched together. Utsab’s reaction was still as clear as the bloody cloth in her hand.
She snapped up straight in a bolt of adrenaline. Her arm was still bleeding. A waterfall of red poured off her fingers. Utsab was fashioning a tourniquet out of something---a pair of sweatpants? No, his sweater. He hadn’t gone to the first-aid kit, which was fastened to the wall in the hallway outside of the lab, even though he had signed documents acknowledging its whereabouts to the laboratory safety committee. Instead, he had removed his sweater and was using it in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
It was a moment of pure concern, and Wemly couldn’t tell whether that kindness brought her to tears, or if it was the burning humiliation that refused to cool, or the despair at knowing she needed to share her secret with Utsab. At the moment, it didn’t matter.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Utsab said. “Hey, hey.” He repeated it over and over, softer and warmer than Wemly thought him capable of---a mantra for her recovery.
Wemly dissolved into full-body sobs and tried to collapse into his arms, oblivious to the needs of her injury. She craved the simplicity of someone telling her it would be alright, to pick her up like her grandma used to do, brush her off and say, “See, that wasn’t so bad?”
She needed the certainty of Utsab on her side, to convert Utsab from worried lab mate to research partner solving the mystery of the device. It was the only way to avoid certain dismissal from Warner’s group and more than likely institutionalization.