“Sometimes, it was almost like watching a movie,” Airiam said. “The memories were there, but the connections weren’t. I’d look at what I downloaded, and I knew this was my life--but it didn’t feel right.”
Keyla thought she could imagine what Airiam meant. Not because of her augmentation--hers wasn’t nearly as extensive as Airiam’s; her brain still stored memories in the typical human fashion. And yet, at first, she hadn’t been able to truly process the events of the Battle of the Binary Stars as something that had happened to her, even as the presence of the metal implant in her head told a different story.
“It took time for the software to remake that, and then for them to figure out how to properly configure the console in my quarters to be compatible,” Airiam went on. “So I could export and archive my memories without losing them that way.”
“I think I know where you’re going with this,” Keyla realized. “What you’re trying to tell me.”
“I think you do,” said Airiam. “My augmentation attempts to mimic the human brain, or parts of it, as closely as possible. It’s okay if things take time for you, too.”