The Things We Forget

Jupiter Orbit, Three Hours after Umbra-Nine Collapse

The hull of Contrapunctus cooled under Jupiter's pale aurora. For the first time in days nobody was rushing; sails drooped, alarms slept, and mugs of whatever passed for tea or cocoa drifted from glove to glove.

Lin perched at the galley table, eyes shut, reciting his favorite hojicha ritual for Aiden's benefit:"Seventy-five Celsius, two grams, thirty-two slow swirls—"He stopped, frowned. "Or was it sixty-eight? Three grams?"

Aiden snorted. "You? Forget a tea ratio?"

"I'm tired," Lin muttered, waving it off. He measured, brewed—result: dishwater. Even he admitted it.

Maya drifted by with a scanner. "That's the third tiny lapse I've logged in ten minutes. Anyone else losing details?"

Cassie raised a hand. "Couldn't remember the second verse to our Cadence lullaby."

Nephis added, "Cloak weave pattern glitched when I tried standard fold."

Aiden's smile flattened. "Null-Weave backlash."

Solayna, glowing faintly, confirmed with a slow nod. "Perfect silence fragmented, but shards cling inside minds. A leak."

Diagnostic Chaos

Maya deployed memory probes—simple trivia prompts: childhood pets, locker combinations, favorite songs. Everyone missed something. Glitch flubbed prime-13. Chip forgot 19. Dawn-Core dimmed between beats 47 and 53 before recovering.

"It's spreading," Maya said. "Our brains are turning symmetrical blanks into little gaps."

Lin forced a grin. "Could be worse—we might forget the socks joke."

"No danger of that," Aiden shot back, but tension tightened his jaw. When he tried to whistle the kettle tune, only half the melody came out.

Improvised Firewall

Cassie snapped fingers. "We fought perfection with noise. Memory leak means silence inside us. So—more noise, but personal."

Idea: each Guardian would craft a short, messy mnemonic—four objects that should never appear together—and repeat it whenever a blank spot surfaced. Misfit pictures jam the leak.

Lin chose: tea-cup, tennis ball, tarantula, trombone.Aiden countered with: coffee mug, melted sock, cactus, kazoo.Cassie laughed, offered: lantern, llama, lightning, lollipop.Maya's list: bug report, bubble gum, black hole, banjo.Nephis simply said: cloak, cocoa, chaos, cat. (Everyone stared—Nephis shrugged, maybe blushing.)

They practiced in unison—absurd chant echoing through the cabin. Glitch and Chip loved it, chiming random syllables.

The Leak Fights Back

Twenty minutes later Lin froze mid-sentence. He couldn't recall Aiden's last name. Maya's telemetry displayed a spike in his hippocampal pattern.

"Tea-cup, tennis ball—" he began, but tarantula wouldn't come. Panic flickered.

Aiden grabbed his shoulder, barked, "MELTED SOCK!" The ridiculous cue jarred Lin; memory snapped back.

Cassie paled. "Leak accelerating."

Solayna's constellation face dulled, segments misaligning. "Quiet-Weave anchor failing. Need external purge—memory storm."

"Define storm," Maya said.

"Flood ourselves with contrast so loud the silence flees," Solayna answered. She projected a map: Jupiter's magnetosphere spirals leading to the moon Io, a volcanic orchestra of electromagnetic noise. "Io's flux can host a purge coil. But approach risks plasma arcs."

Nephis's cloak bristled. "We ride the arcs, weave the storm."

Race to Io

Maya plotted a high-delta V burn: fifteen minutes to board the plasma rail, then slingshot through Io's flux torus. During the pass, Dawn-Core, Lantern, and Cloak must vent synchronized noise—risking total systems brownout.

Aiden met Lin's eyes—brotherhood glance. "Forgetfulness or frying—your pick."

Lin straightened. "Let's fry."

Cassie thumped Lantern lens. "Lightning, llama, lollipop—charging."

Maya unlocked safeties. "Black-hole banjo protocol armed."

Nephis cracked cloak seams, voice low. "Chaos cat ready."

Glitch and Chip tapped excited primes, filling gaps with giggles.

Solayna aligned Dawn-Core at the bow. "To remember, we must roar."

Burn

Contrapunctus shoved engines to max. The ship lurched, memory prompts flying like confetti. Outside, Jupiter's radiation belts glowed. Warning sirens blanked—crew already repeating their nonsense mnemonics between clenched teeth.

Tea-cup, tennis ball, tarantula, trombone—Coffee mug, melted sock, cactus, kazoo—Lantern, llama, lightning, lollipop—

Aiden felt names slipping—Lin? socks? He shouted his list louder. Lin responded, eyes clearing.

Plasma arcs drew neon claws across the hull. At periapsis Solayna cried, "NOW!"

Lantern burst, Cloak tore, Dawn-Core shrieked primes into subspace. Contrapunctus became a kaleidoscope of awful, glorious dissonance.

Afterflash

Silence fell—but not Null-Weave silence; rather the hush after laughter. HUDs rebooted. Maya ran a memory ping: everyone recalled every absurd mnemonic and, crucially, each other's middle names. Leak sealed.

Lin sipped tea, authentic smile returning. "Tastes like victory—and socks."

Aiden grinned. "Never forget."

Cassie smacked his arm. "Next time, pick llama first."

Solayna stabilized, constellation clear. "Contrast re-anchored."

Nephis gathered cloak shreds. "Cat sleeps satisfied."

Contrapunctus arced away, Io's lava fountains flickering below—a nightmarish backdrop for the little ship full of noise, friendship, and now perfectly imperfect memories.