After I put the little man to bed last night my evening took a surreal turn. The husband had gone out (I’m going out tonight, with Zophia, to the Neko Case show) so the house was especially quiet. I intended to compulsively check my email one last time…before going to bed to read myself to sleep. And I did have new email. From an old elementary school classmate who claims, oddly enough, that I was his first crush. Physically and socially awkward short little me, with the big big glasses (how little has changed). Sadder still, I cannot, for the life of me, remember who this guy is. So while I was pondering memory and rememory, it seemed like a good time to stay up late to watch The Final Cut, which the husband had gotten from GreenCine. It’s a quiet little sci-film, set in the near future, revolving around an implant that wealthier citizens have placed in their brains before birth…which will then record everything they see and hear throughout their lives. An interesting idea, but the execution wasn’t as engaging as it could have been (Gattaca got it right). I’m far more taken with the Takeshi Kovacs series, in which people have similar implants. Their “cortical stacks” also record all of their memories, their consciousness, their essence…or whatever. But instead of allowing this footage to be viewed after the death of one’s body, this cortical stack can be implanted into a new body (or “sleeve”), thus granting an immortality of sorts to those with implants…or rather to those who can afford to be re-sleeved. Naturally Hollywood has optioned this, but I don’t look forward to seeing what they’ll do to it if it’s greenlighted. Whatever happens I’ll choose to remember it my way.
Bonus: This post was partially written while listening to Sondre Lerche’s Stupid Memory. Such synchronicity.
