Is she really my mother? I stared into her face, trying to find any hint of deception. Why would she do this? I mean… if she was lying, what was the point? But if not… why did she ask that question? Shouldn't she know my name? My head was splitting from these questions. I tried to remember… anything… a name – it's something important, very important… but in response to these attempts, I only saw a gaping void.
"No… only Nameless."
"Nameless? No, that won't do. Will you let your," – here she faltered, embarrassed. – "Mom… choose a name for you?"
"But didn't you give it to me before?" I stared at her, uncomprehending. Why does this seem so strange?
"Uh…" she faltered again. "Well, yes, but… I'd like you to remember it yourself later. And for now… you're gray-haired and somehow remind me of a cat… let me give you a nickname for now – Kitty. Agreed?"
"Kitty?" I repeated, as if savoring how it sounded, then nodded.
I saw a barely visible smile play on her lips.
"Mom, what are we… doing here?" I asked, staring at the bars in front of us and the lock with an uncomprehending gaze.
The girl tensed at first when she heard the address, and then seemed to relax.
"We're prisoners…" she simply said.
"Prisoners? Of whom? I don't remember much."
"Trouble, trouble…" she commented, taking my hand and putting a ring on it.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"It's not glowing… bad."
She took it off under my uncomprehending gaze.
Seeing my confusion, she took my hand in hers and smiled encouragingly. Her gaze was focused for a couple of seconds, and then she sighed with relief.
"You…" – she might have wanted to tell me about myself, but shook her head. – "Let me simplify. Your memories were stolen by a girl, also Mita, almost the same as me, but… different. She killed you and, ahem, technically turned you into a cartridge."
She gestured awkwardly with her hand, as if trying to explain something complex to a small child.
"A cartridge," she explained, making a rectangle shape with her hands. "Well, it's like… you know, a flash drive? Only with a game. Your life," she added quietly. "But you… you came out defective. In a word – a 'Bug.' A bugged, unfinished cartridge. And because of that, you're here."
"Killed?" I echoed, feeling a chill inside. So, my life, from what I remembered, wasn't just a series of misfortunes. Someone had cut it short, but had they really… I'm somehow still alive… how strange.
"And you're a vulnerable cartridge too! You have a little crack on it, so don't even think about harming yourself, okay? And you can't die either, understood?" she wagged her finger threateningly in front of my face.
"Yes, m… Mom," I mumbled, feeling small and defenseless under her gaze. And yet… her concern touched me to the core.
She sighed, turned away, and leaned wearily against the wall.
"God, what bad luck," she leaned against the wall, looking away, but I managed to see the corner of her mouth curve into a smile again.
"And what should I do now?" I asked, feeling completely bewildered.
"You?" The girl turned to me, her caring gaze on me again. "You need to return to the core, Kitty." She pointed to my heart. "Part of you is already digitized, but the main information… it's stuck in this bugged cartridge, that is, in you. So, you need to go there."
I was silent, trying to digest the information. It all sounded very crazy, but for some reason, I believed her – she just didn't seem like a liar.
"And what is the core?"
"Oh, Kitty," she sighed and drew several circles of different sizes in the air with her finger. "Imagine an onion. The game world is it. Each layer is a separate version of it. So the core – it's the very first of them."
"Oh, Kitty…" she drew many little circles in the air. "This is our world, the core is the first little circle, and we're almost on the last one. You can think of it as an onion."
"And how do we get out of here?"
"We don't."
I frowned, staring at her. Her optimism was unsettling.
Is she kidding?
How can she be so calm when we're locked in a basement with a crazed killer? Does she even have any plan at all?
"And…"
"Let's skip the 'and,' just better hit the pipe occasionally, maybe some new player will hear and come."
I didn't ask any questions and nodded, taking a small metal piece of pipe and starting to periodically hit the pipe with it, as she said.
"Mom, how did we live before this? Can you tell me?" I asked, feeling the emptiness in my memories become tense. I was almost bursting with the desire to know at least something about myself.
"How did we live?.. Oh, you've really stumped me."
She sadly looked away. But why, Mom?
Literally a second later, the girl shook her head, came up to me, and, taking my face in her palms, looked gently into my eyes.
"Let's think about how we'll live instead. For example, we'll read books together, cook, I'll make you clean the house, and you'll grumble but still obediently grab the mop," she chuckled, resting her head on my shoulder. "And then we'll drink tea with raspberry jam and watch some silly movie."
Her words sounded like a fairytale, but I… I so wanted to believe it.
"Sounds great…" I whispered, feeling warmth spread through my body. Living not in the past, but in the future… Why not?
"Want to play something while we're locked up? To distract ourselves," she suggested, as if reading my thoughts.
"Play what… I don't remember much."
"Then tell me about yourself, what you remember. Let Mom listen to you," she said with a chuckle, still embarrassed.
I listened to her voice, and it felt as if I were drowning in it.
"Okay," I agreed, trying not to look her in the eyes. And I began to talk.
About the everyday life in a strange, gray, and even somewhat scary place, about train cars, a building with white walls and a red cross – a hospital, adventures in books… about those fragments of life that my memory still held – a strangely fragmented memory… about pain, loneliness, and longing, about how in my memories my name is simply distorted from the lips of others, becoming completely unintelligible. About how I don't remember my childhood at all.
"It all sounds kind of sad," she frowned thoughtfully. "But it's okay, Kitty! Everything will work out, you'll get your memory back and maybe even bring me something tasty, we'll have some with tea."
"Yes, Mom…" I said, smiling. Maybe everything isn't so scary after all?
"Yes, yes, and for now I'll be your mom…" she said, already starting to fall asleep, and I felt her gently ruffle my hair.
A minute later, she was asleep.
I carefully moved her head from my shoulder to my lap and also stroked her hair, gazing at her peaceful and carefree expression.
"I'll be your mom"… Her words sounded so sincere.
But who is she really? My memory was silent. Maybe someday I'll know the truth. And for now… for now, I just want to believe her.