Chapter 71
The Owner Chair
Everett placed both hands on the table.
“Memory belongs to the person who can prove it,” he said.
The room marked his answer incomplete.
Claire sat in the chair with her name. The table asked the same question.
“Memory belongs to the person who lives with its consequences.”
The room accepted the answer but did not open.
Ada sat beside her.
“Memory belongs to the person who was changed by it.”
The glass walls brightened.
Mara took her chair.
“Memory belongs to the person who chooses what to do with it.”
Rowan sat last.
“Memory belongs to the person who remembers being denied.”
The fifth chair remained empty.
Everett looked toward it. “The owner must answer.”
The chair did not move.
“You are the owner,” Claire said.
“I am the administrator.”
“That is another word for owner.”
The room displayed Everett's first patient record. Then his mother's. Then Mara's. Each page showed the same pattern: a person assigned a witness, a witness assigned a blame, a record assigned an owner.
Everett stood.
The room rejected his movement.
“Sit,” Ada said.
“I will not be judged by a machine.”
“You built the machine.”
“I built a safeguard.”
“You built a witness who could never speak.”
The fifth chair filled with a shadow.
It had Everett's shape but no face.
The room asked its question again.
WHOSE MEMORY IS THE PROPERTY?
The shadow answered in Everett's voice.
“Mine.”
The glass cracked.