THE CHRISTMAS BERRY

Brick’s eyeballs bulged as he fell to his knees. His forehead throbbed painfully, and he could feel his pulse accelerating. He tried to grab his head to keep it from exploding, but his arms were to weak to move. Around Brick, the abundant redwood trees grew taller and taller with each agonizing moment. THey had an odd purple hue to them despite being the middle of the night. Brick fell to the floor and bean thrashing about like a madman. 

How did I get here?

Millions of images pulsed through Brick’s head. He saw his birth, he saw the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the siege of Leningrad, the crumbling of the Berlin Wall. In the span of a couple seconds, Brick saw the entirety of human history. Our accomplishments, our failures. 

The trees seemed to be dancing joyfully around him, celebrating his catastrophic enlightenment. 

“Stay still, damn you,” Brick managed to mutter to the spiteful trees. “Make yourself useful and…” his voice trailed off. He was too weak to speak. Too much was going on in his brain.

A rush of wind jetted through the forest and the trees began to snicker menacingly at Brick. His muscles spasmed as sweat trickled down his brow. Memories of his own life began replaying in his head like an old film, but they were all playing at once. He jerked his head to the side and his nose tickled a berried shrub he had violently kicked out of the earth only moments ago. He impulsively bit off a berry and started chomping it. 

Heteromeles arbutifolia…

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“Heteromeles arbutifolia, also known as the Christmas berry, is perhaps the most prominent understory shrub in our county. Many find the berries to look good enough to eat, but keep in mind that they have been known to contain a small amount of cyanogenic glycosides. Whatever that means.”

Brick looked up from the lectern. The classroom stared back at him with glazed expressions. A few mouths hung open.

“...That was a joke. Anyway, uh historically, the plant has been used by indigenous peoples as a treatment for Alzheimer’s, citation needed, and recent research has found a number of active compounds that are potentially beneficial to Alzheimer’s treatment. These include icaricide compounds, which protect the blood-brain barrier and prevent infiltration of inflammatory cells into the brain. A 2016 study, conducted by the Central University of Muckton, found 5 grams of the dried berries, used as a treatment for Alzheimer’s, to be safe. The study also found no cyanogenic compounds in the plant.”

Brick looked at his incredibly large professor, Mr. Washburn, who had the general shape of a bowling ball stacked precariously atop a boulder. Much like a boiler, he stared back at Brick with a rigid, stony face. Brick was intimidated until he finally spoke.

“Brick, that was… good. Everyone give him a round of applause.”

Brick smirked pridefully. Looks like I got away with it again. The professor rolled towards him, his feet imperceptible beneath his protruding paunch.

“Please see me after class,” Mr. Washburn whispered with an indignant tone. Brick gulped. Maybe I didn’t get away with it.

After the rest of the students finished their horrifically boring presentations on the local flora of the county, Mr. Washburn dismissed the class. Brick was firmly implanted into his seat, an anxious sweating wreck.

Mr. Washburn pretended like Brick wasn’t there for a few minutes as he looked through some papers and tapped at his keyboard a few times. Finally, his droopy eyelids slowly turned Brick’s way. Brick could feel his face redden.

“Brick,” the professor said. “Your article was, word-for-word, exactly what was written on Wikipedia. The only thing that wasn’t plagiarized was your terrible attempt at a joke. In fact, I’m glad you clarified that it was a joke, because I wasn’t entirely sure.”

Fuck me, Brick thought.

“Look sir, I was tired last night, and frankly, I don’t care about flowers or berries or ferns or whatever. I’m her to learn how to be a journalist and write interesting articles. If I wanted to learn about plants, I’d have majored in Biology.”

Mr. Washburn’s face did not move an inch. He didn’t even blink as he stared directly into Brick’s soul.

“First of all,” the professor started. Brick swallowed hard, knowing a long lecture was about to come his way. I should’ve just asked Wally to write the article. “If you choose journalism as a career, you will be given assignments that you do not care about and do not want to write about. It’s part of the job. Second of all, it doesn’t matter what you’re majoring in, plagiarism is taken incredibly seriously at this school. I’m supposed to call the Dean of Admissions and report you.”

Brick sighed, frustrated. “Isn’t this a community college? Like, who cares? If this was Harvard and I copied my thesis from the Internet then I can see it being a big deal, but this school was recently recognized as being the ‘Only School in Nation Without a Working Toilet.’ Our most famous alum is only known for digging up the grave of Ronald Reagan to ‘shoot the sucker again.’”

The professor nodded, a bit disdainfully. “Yes I had Rupert in my class before the incident, but he was psychotic, and still never plagiarized a single sentence. What does that say about you?”

Brick sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, thinking.

“Look, Brick,” the professor continued. “I’m not going to report you, since I know your uncle. Who know what Elliot would do to me if he found out I was the one who reported you? I don’t want to imagine such a scenario. But I don’t want to let you off easily, because you need to learn consequences for your, frankly, stupid actions. All I had to do was search ‘Christmas berry’ and your entire presentation popped up. Y’know, I think you even said ‘citation needed’ at one point, but I was hoping I misheard you.”

Brick cringed internally. “Fine. What do I gotta do to pass this class?”

“I want an hour long news documentary on the Christmas berry on my desk next Friday. That will excuse your mess of a presentation.”

Brick considered this. “Fine, but I’m going to shoot this my way. If I’m gonna make a film, it’s gonna have suspense, intrigue… It’s gotta be sexy.”

Mr. Washburn rolled his eyes. “...Whatever you gotta do.”

PRESENT DAY

Brick snapped back to his painful reality.

“Documentary… Mr. Washburn… That’s right…” Brick seized in agony on the forest floor. His heart rate was through the roof. “Ghhh… Why can’t I remember anything?”

Brick slapped his forehead. “C’MON, THINK!”

Brick bit off three more berries off the unearthed shrub.

THREE DAYS EARLIER

“Are you filming?” Brick asked.

“Yes, it’s rolling, that’s what the blinking red light means,” replied Dimitri, Brick’s best friend and impromptu cameraman.

“Alright… ahem… Hello, my name is Brick Balboa, and I will be your host this evening. This–”

“You’re really going with that stage name?”

“Quiet on set!” Brick growled. “And yes, the alliteration gives it that extra oomph. Washburn will approve.”

“Whatever,” Dimitri said, refocusing the video camera. “Go again.”

“Hello, my name is Brick Balboa. I’m here to reveal a shocking conspiracy that is unfolding in our humble town of Sussingham. If you live here, you’ve probably seen the Christmas berry.”

Brick brandished a sprig of the Christmas berry that he had picked earlier.

“Sussingham exports these berries in large quantities to a medical facility called Golaris, which uses the berries to produce anti-Alzheimer’s medication,” Brick continued. “Sussingham makes big bucks off this crop.”

Brick then flashed a dramatic look at the camera.

“But what if I were to tell you that Golaris was actually processing these berries into poison pills to kill off tose stricken with Alzheimer’s?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dimitri piped in.

“QUIET ON SET!” Brick screamed in frustration. “MOTHERFUCKER!”

“You’re really forcing the conspiracy angle here, huh? Why would Golaris poison the very people that keep them in business?”

“SHUT UP!” Brick yelled, then took a deep breath. “Investigative journalism is all about how you frame something; it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not.”

“Says the community college student.”

“I hate to say it, you’re my buddy, but you’re really fucking this up right now. I’m getting very hot.”

“It just seems that a journalism teacher isn’t gonna like deliberately false ‘news.’”

“I really, really need you to shut up. I don’t know how to edit, so this is all going in the final cut.”

Dimitri’s roommate, Cornelius, lazily walked into the room, munching on a family size bag of corn chips. “Yo,” he said in between obnoxiously loud crunches. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re uh…” Dimitri paused, looking concerned. “Gosh, what were we doing again?”

“We’re filming my documentary, idiot!” Brick turned to Cornelius. “It’s a project for class.”

“Documentary, eh?” Cornelius said, dropping his empty chip bag to the floor. “What’s it about?”

“Uncovering a vast and insidious conspiracy within Sussingham,” Brick stated proudly. “...Still figuring out what the conspiracy is, though.”

“Well, what are you doing with those berries?” Cornelius asked, pointing to the small bushel in Brick’s hand.

“Oh these? Well the documentary is supposed to be about these berries in some way. My initial idea was to argue that Golaris, that medicine company that just moved its factory to Sussingham, is using these to poison and kill Alzheimer’s patients.”

Cornelius considered this. “Y’know, Brick, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re onto something here.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dimitri scoffed. “Why would Golaris poison their customers? It makes no sense!”

Cornelius nodded. “You’re right, that part is ridiculous and clearly wrong. But I have noticed something… off about Sussingham in the last few days. Ever since Golaris moved their factory here.”

Brick and Dimitri looked at each other, unsure of how to process this information.

“I can’t quite place my finger on exactly what it is,” Cornelius continued, pacing back and forth. “But I aim to find out.”

“Wow,” Brick said, crossing his arms. “Y’know, Cornelius, you have some chutzpah. Star power. How about I make you the subject of my documentary, and I follow you around as you uncover the conspiracy?”

“I know you’re just asking me so you don’t have to figure out the conspiracy yourself,” said Cornelius. “But I accept.”

MEANWHILE, AT THE SUSSINGHAM GAZETTE OFFICES

Elliot Buckworth, Sussingham’s richest man and owner of their local newspaper, the Sussingham Gazette, emerged from his office. Elliot was exceedingly eccentric and always wore a green velvet suit. His hair was perfectly groomed, and he had always had incredible posture, standing at a rigid 90 degree angle.

His writing staff both feared him and respected him, so whenever he exited his office, they would immediately pretend to be working as fastidiously as possible, even if they had nothing to do.

“WALLY!” Elliot yelled. Wally, Dimitri’s older brother and a long-time Sussingham Gazette writer, snapped to attention. He had a classic case of General Anxiety Disorder and hearing his name yelled in such a way by his insane boss was almost enough to send him into a frenzy (luckily his meds were helping). He loved his job at the Gazette, but Elliot’s leadership style clashed poorly with his many mental issues. “OFFICE! MINE! NOW!”

“Y-yes sir!” Wally jumped up and nearly sprinted to Elliot’s office. Elliot followed him, closed his door, and took a seat in his ornate office chair, colloquially known as “The Throne.” Wally stood at attention, like a military cadet waiting to take orders from a drill sergeant.

“Wally, you big lummox,” said Elliot, leaning back in his chair. “You quivering quail. You’re quite experienced in writing… ‘puff pieces,’ one might say?”

“Well, uh, no,” Wally stammered. He was constantly told by his therapist to stick up for himself more often, but it often felt like Herculean effort for him. “I like to think my articles have substance…”

“Substance. Yes. Of course,” Elliot scoffed, smiling enigmatically. “Well, luckily, this article I am about to ask you to write will require none of that ‘substance’ you claim to have.”

Elliot leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk.

“Golaris, that pharmaceutical company, recently signed a large contractual deal with the city of Sussingham,” Elliot continued. “This is a huge win for us, as Golaris is profitable and for some odd reason chose to set up their production factory in this godawful, one-horse town. They mayor requested that we doctor a positive write-up on them within the week. Puff piece. A piece for a puff. Let’s get everyone on Team Golaris to make sure they choose to stay in Sussingham. This town desperately needs the money. For god sakes, the community college doesn’t even have a bathroom.”

“I mean, I don’t know too much about them, but I guess I could take care of it,” Wally shrugged. Do you want me to visit with them?”

“I would say to be very… cautious if you choose to interview them,” Elliot said menacingly.

“...Why is that?” Wally said, spooked.

“You’re very awkward and you might just bore them right out of Sussingham!” Elliot roared with laughter, but became annoyed once he noticed Wally was not laughing with him. “I was being facetious. Yes, goofus, meet with them, get some quotable quotes, and report back with a happy, pro-Golaris article. let’s make this town some cash, Wario!”

“Uh… my name is Wally.”

“Oh, yes, Waldo… Remind me why I called you in here again?”

LATER THAT NIGHT

“Action!” Brick shouted, pointing the camera at Cornelius, who was now wearing a fedora and a black leather duster. 

“There’s something fishy going on in Sussingham… and I don’t mean the catch of the day at the local diner.”

“CUT!” yelled Brick. “That was fantastic! Very noir!”

“I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with your project? You guys have just been workshopping noir one-liners for hours,” Dimitri groaned. “Do either of you have any idea what ‘conspiracy’ you’re even investigating yet?”

Just then, Wally walked in the front door. “I’m home!” he stared bemusedly at the comical scene unfolding in his living room. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“School project,” Brick replied. “Trying to uncover a conspiracy involving Christmas berries and their connection to Golaris.”

Wally chuckled, placing his bags in the front closet. “That’s ironic. I was just assigned to write a puff piece on Golaris for the newspaper.”

“No shit?” said Cornelius. “Well, pray tell: what do you know? Maybe you could help us crack this nut.”

Wally sat down in an armchair facing the guys. “Well… Golaris is a pharmaceutical company. I guess they just signed a massive, multi-million dollar deal with the city of Sussingham. It’s the talk of the town.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know that much. What else?”

“Okay, well, they just moved their factory here, where they produce all their anti-Alzheimer’s medicine. It’s supposed to be creating a ton of jobs, so the city council is ecstatic.”

“Eureka!” Cornelius jumped up. Brick hastily took out the camera and started filming again. “My friends, I ask you this: Why did Golaris move their factory to small town Sussingham of all placed? This, boys, is the crux of the conspiracy.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious,” Wally replied matter-of-factly. “Golaris is moving here so they have close access to their prime resource, the Christmas berry, which is grown here in plentiful numbers, and is heavily used in their drug compounds for Alzheimer’s treatment.”

Cornelius shook his finger at Wally. “But, such a resource could be easily shipped to nearby cities with next-to-no production delays; sure, it might be slightly more expensive, but such a cost would be pocket change to a multi-billion dollar company like Golaris,” Cornelius paused, deep in thought. “No, their reason for moving their factory here has to be something far more substantial. What’s in it for them?”

“Cornelius, you’re a star,” Brick said behind the camera, smiling ear-to-ear. “This is gold.”

“Well, I guess I’ll find out more about them tomorrow. I have an appointment to interview their PR manager tomorrow evening,” Wally said. “I’d invite you guys along, but I never mentioned anything about a documentary crew, and these kinds of guys get a whole lot less candid with a camera in their face. But I’ll relay any info I get back to you guys.”

“Aw, man,” Brick moaned. “Getting a shot of the factory would be perfect B-reel for my doc.”

“Actually, I just remembered they specifically requested no recording devices at all, not even my trusty tape recorder,” Wally said. “I guess that is pretty shady, huh?”

THE NEXT DAY

Wally drove deep into the Sussingham Redwood Forest where the Golaris factory had been constructed. Soon enough, he saw the unmistakable chimneys pumping out steam slightly above the treeline, indicating he was close. He wondered what advantages there were to building a factory so far within a heavily wooded forest.

Wally parked in the large parking lot, and ensured he had all of his belongings before exiting his vehicle. He sighted his tape recorder, and after a brief consideration, decided to pocket it. He clicked it on, and began his trudge towards the front entrance.

He strode in the large front doors, and was immediately greeted by a creepily jovial secretary sitting at a massive front desk.

“Welcome to the Sussingham Golaris factory, Wallace Jonathan Harkham.”

“Wow… thank you. How did you know my full–”

“Well, well, well, you must be Wally!” shouted a deep voice from the other end of the lobby, echoing through the spacious room. The voice was perfectly manicured, like a politician’s. A well dressed man, about 45-years old, approached Wally with his hands outstretched, as if greeting an old friend. “Welcome to our new factory. My name is Rich, and I’m the head of our PR department. Am I to understand you’re writing the article about us for the Sussingham Gazette?”

“Yes, I’m writing an article on the recent deal you made, seems like quite the sweet deal for Sussingham.”

“Well, of course, one of the many core tenets of Golaris’ mission statement is charity. Many would look upon Sussingham as a town of utter desolation… an unplace, if you will. It hardly exists at all. However, when we came upon Sussingham, we at Golaris saw an opportunity waiting to be seized.”

“That was going to be my first question, actually,” Wally said, taking out his pen and paper. “Why did you choose to move your factory to Sussingham, instead of a nearby city?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re aware that Sussingham is wealthy with our prime resource: the Christmas berry, a plant we heavily utilize for our Alzheimer’s medications.”

“Yes, but there are many towns where this plant is abundant, correct?”

“You’ve done your research!” Rich threw up his arms. “Yes, that is right on the money. You see, we chose Sussingham for the same reason many home buyers would purchase a ‘fixer upper.’ We wanted to make this town as prosperous as our company; as we get richer, so does this town. Our executive leadership team also values the idea of establishing a homebase far away from the hubbub of big cities; there are often too many politicians with vendettas against profitable companies, and retaliate by enacting legal restrictions that make it difficult for us to expand in the way we would like.”

“I see,” Wally scribbled a few notes down on his memo pad. “What kind of legal restrictions are you looking to circumvent?”

“Hahahaha! That’s a good one, Wally,” Rich heartily slapped Wally on his back. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Obviously, what we have been looking for is a town government that is incompetent and willing to turn a blind eye to our wildest ambitions. And my, oh my, do we have a bunch of wild ambitions.”

Wally stopped scribbling and froze. “A blind eye…?”

“That’s right, Wally,” Rich’s face took on a sinister expression. “The reality is that we wanted to buy a town for ourselves. Golaris owns Sussingham now. We have your entire city council deep within our pockets.”

“Wait, but…” Wally blinked. “I… forgot what I was going to say. What were we talking about again?”

“Yes, I was just explaining that we chose Sussingham because we simply fell in love with the town and its people,” Rich said, smiling pleasantly. “Again, our desire with this town is pure; we want to endow Sussingham with fat stacks of cash as we continue our mission to cure Alzheimer’s completely.”

Suddenly, a loud clicking noise emanated from Wally’s pocket. Wally froze.

“Erm… what is that sound, Mr. Harkham?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…” Wally tried to slap his pocket to disable the clicking noise; his tape recorder was clearly malfunctioning.

Rich boldly stuck his hands into Wally’s pocket and pulled out the tape recorder, and brandished it the air as if it was illegal paraphernalia. 

“Hmph. Did we not specifically ask you not to bring any recording devices?”

“Oh, I, uh, forgot I had it on me…”

“How unfortunate,” Rich then pulled a small device out of his pocket, which resembled a remote control. “For you.”

Rich then tapped a button, and Wally, as if electrocuted, yelped and fell to the floor, grasping his head.

“What is your name?” Rich ashed. Wally continued to moan on the floor. “I said, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?!”

“I… I don’t know!” Wally cried. “What did you do to me?!”

“Excellent,” Rich giggled evilly. “Now, follow me to the ‘breakroom.’”

LATER, AT DIMITRI’S HOUSE

“MIND VIRUS!” Cornelius ran into the room where Dimitri was trying to watch TV. Brick soon followed, holding his camera up like a trophy.

“Mind what?”

“Brick and I figured it out. The conspiracy. It all makes sense,”

“What conspiracy?” Dimitri asked.

“See, Brick? Everyone’s forgetting everything. Dimitri, we’ve been making a documentary about a conspiracy all day long. Do you not remember?”

Dimitri sat there for a second. “Yeah, I guess I don’t remember what I did today. At all.”

“Dimitri, there is some kind of mind virus, or perhaps a prion disease, sweeping through Sussingham as we speak. It seems to be primarily affecting our ability to retain short-term memory.”

“It’s true! I was right! There is a conspiracy in Sussingham!” Brick shouted.

“Brick and I spent all day together, and we both realized just moments ago that we had no memory of what we did.”

“Luckily, I’ve been filming everything, so we decided to watch back the tape, and sure enough, it seems we were filming some kind of documentary on Golaris and the Christmas berry. No idea why, but it has to be related to why everyone is losing their memory.”

“When did you guys get here?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh god,” Cornelius said hopelessly. “It’s getting worse. Everyone, quick, grab a Sharpie. It’s Memento time.”

Dimitri grabbed a Sharpie from his desk, and they each took turns writing something down on their forearm.

“Okay, what has everyone written down?” Cornelius asked the group. “I wrote ‘Mind virus, watch Brick’s tape if you forget.’”

“I wrote, ‘trust Cornelius,’” Dimitri replied.

“I wrote ‘Me Brick.’” Brick said sheepishly.

“Brick, it doesn’t make you lose your entire memory, it’s just short term. You’re not gonna forget who you are, dope.”

“Well, how in the world do we combat a mind virus that targets short term memory?” Dimitri asked, worried.

“We go to the source, of course.”

“Holy shit,” Brick aimed his camera at Cornelius. “Perfect line. Can you say that again?”

“Say what again? Are you talking to me?” Cornelius asked.

“Yes, you said something cool. Don’t you remember?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Cornelius looked down at his arm.

“Brick, play back that tape for us, willya?”

The three boys watched the tape and took notes.

“Holy shit, I completely forgot that Wally was supposed to meet with Golaris today. He should’ve been back by now, it’s well past 5pm.”

“That’s not good,” Cornelius said cautiously. “Based on this tape, it’s clear that Golaris is behind this whole mess.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brick.

“Brick, they make anti-Alzheimer’s medication. I think it’s obvious: they’re somehow making the town forget their memories so we become reliant on their memory drug. They’re turning Sussingham into lifetime customers!”

“And the last time I heard from Wally was before he went to the Golaris factory,” Dimitri said, gulping nervously. “Who knows what could have happened to him. We gotta go find him. He could be lost in the woods for all we know!”

“Sweet, this will be an epic conclusion to this documentary. I’m gonna enter this in film festivals,” Brick said, smiling.

“Do you only think of yourself?” Dimitri asked coldly, while grabbing his car keys. “Let’s go.”

PRESENT DAY

Brick continued spasming in pain on the floor. He looked down at his arm, where the words “ME BRICK” were scrawled messily. 

“Me Brick,” Brick read aloud. He felt another jolt of electricity run through him, giving him an agonizing headache. He scrunched his eyes, screaming in pain. Through his distress, he managed to eat one more berry.

EARLIER, THE DAY OF 

“So this is the Golaris factory. Looks ominous in the nighttime.” Cornelius remarked after they parked the car.

“I’m glad we watched the tape again in the car, or I probably would’ve forgotten why we’re here in the first place,” Dimitri said. “Let’s go find my brother.”

The boys cautiously approached the front entrance, clinging closely to one another. Once they reached the front, the doors swung open by themselves, causing Brick to gasp.

“Boys,” said a voice. “I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to circumvent our memory ray. Congratulations.”

A man stepped out of the darkness holding a remote control in one hand. “You boys are smart,” he continued. “I’m Rich, the factory manager here. I assume you’re here for Wally, whose curiosity ended up being his downfall.”

“Where’s my brother?!” Dimitri yelled. 

“Be careful guys. I feel woozy.” Cornelius remarked, cradling his head. “I assume the ray’s effects are more prominent here.”

“Right you are, Cornelius.” Rich laughed. “Follow me if you want Wally to live.”

Rich began walking off, and the boys followed at a slight distance. 

“Tell us what you know, you rat bastard,” Cornelius said. “I know you’re gonna make us forget everything anyway, so might as well come clean!”

“Sure thing. Let me just take care of one thing first.” Rich stepped towards Brick, swiftly grabbed his camera, and in one motion, threw it to the floor, shattering it into many pieces.

“You goddamn son of a bitch! MY SCHOOL PROJECT! MY AWARD WINNING FILM! YOU FUCKED ME!” Brick screamed furiously, spit flying from his mouth. 

“Shush now, simple one,” Rich smirked. “Now I can tell you everything. Golaris has long been a profitable company; we’ve created miracle drugs to assist with memory related issues, but our stock price has stagnated in recent years. Not enough people are getting Alzheimer’s with recent advances in medical technology. It’s quite simple; we needed a way to ensure the funds never stopped rolling in. That’s when one of our engineers found a way to erase people’s memories using a radio wave that can be emitted to a small area.”

“Of course. You moved your factory here to use Sussingham as guinea pigs for your memory loss experiment. It would be too obvious in a large city.” Dimitri said angrily.

“Like I said, you boys are smart. Yes, Sussingham was perfect because it’s a small, relatively unknown town with an incompetent government desperate for money. But you see, this isn’t a factory at all. It is simply a building that houses the memory ray. We’ve been emitting the ray in small bursts over the last few days, and the results have been magnificent.”

The boys followed Rich into a large room. In the center stood a massive, overbearing satellite dish pointed to the sky. 

“However, I made a mistake when Wally came by. I had assumed he, too, was an incompetent, and did not count on the fact that he had any recording devices. Turns out he was slyly carrying a tape recorder, which had picked up some facts I was not too keen on others knowing. I had to destroy the tape recorder, and place Wally in detention for his transgressive behavior.”

Rich motioned to the corner of the room, where Wally lay destitute, in the fetal position. “Poor thing. With his proximity to the satellite, he received hefty doses of the ray each time we enabled it for emission. He’d be lucky to remember anything ever again.”

“Wally!” Dimitri screamed, and ran over to him. “Are you okay?!”

Wally looked up at Dimitri cluelessly. “Blargh… Rammel flaggem doogan smirtz…” Wally babbled.

“After the third burst, he forgot how to speak English. We’ve done six more bursts since then.” Rich laughed evilly. “But don’t fret. We are ready to release our largest burst yet, and you boys will experience the effects of 1,000 bursts, all at once!”

“We’re fucked,” Cornelius said, the color draining from his face. 

“We’re not fucked,” Brick whispered to Cornelius. “He may have destroyed the camera, but the memory card is doing just fine. I swiped it when he wasn’t looking.”

Cornelius’ eyes bulged. “Brick, you beautiful bastard! I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll handle Rich. You run to the police and show them everything.”

“Wait. I wanna rub it in his stupid face.”

“Wait, don’t–”

“We’ve foiled your plans, Rich!” Brick yelled triumphantly, holding up the memory card. “You may have destroyed the camera, but the memory card lives on! The world will know of your evil deeds!”

“You goddamned idiot,” Cornelius shook his head. “Now we’re definitely fucked.”

“You meddling morons,” Rich said angrily. He walked over to a large switch, and with much effort, pulled the lever down. “Eat this!”

The satellite began making a loud whirring sound. 

“It’s warming up,” Cornelius said. “Brick, RUN!”

Brick took off without another word. Cornelius lunged at Rich, and started punching him as hard as he could. But as soon as Brick reached the entrance, all three boys felt a powerful surge go through their bodies, like being struck by lightning. Cornelius dropped to the floor like a gnat. Dimitri collapsed next to Wally. But Brick kept on running.

Brick felt the pain come on more gradually than the others, but when it came, it was strong. 

PRESENT

Brick remembered everything now, and it gave him the courage to overcome the pain and he stood up, his legs shaking violently. He grabbed another bushel of berries and began pouring them in his mouth. 

“5 grams of the dried berries… used as a treatment for Alzheimer’s…” Brick knew he had to eat a bunch. They were disgustingly bitter, and tasted like earwax. They dried out his mouth like he was chomping on deodorant. But he persevered. Memories began flooding back to him more and more, clearer and clearer. 

“I have to… save my friends!” Brick began running again, his strength returning to him alongside his memories. “I have to… pass my fucking class!”

It took him fifteen minutes of running at full speed, but he finally reached the town square. 

FRIDAY, DUE DATE OF THE ASSIGNMENT

“Brick,” Mr. Washburn greeted him as he walked through the door of the classroom. “I expect you have the documentary for me?”

“Ahem…” Brick cleared his throat. “I… don’t have it.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Mr. Washburn shook his head. “You better have the best excuse in the world.”

“Well, I kinda do. The police have it.” 

“The police have your documentary?”

“They needed it for evidence. I accidentally stumbled upon a major conspiracy involving Golaris and how they were making the town lose their memories in order to make everyone reliant on their memory drug. My documentary was so good, it’s taking down a multi-billion dollar company.”

“Okay, well… I guess I did see something in the newspaper about that. But I can’t verify the veracity of your excuse. I’m afraid I’m going to have to fail you, Brick.”

“Wait, but I do have something to turn in to make up for the missing documentary!” Brick yelled, rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a report written entirely by Wally. “I redid my presentation, and I can guarantee this one is not plagiarized at all!”

Brick handed Mr. Washburn the paper, and he began skimming through it. “This does look remarkably well-written,” Mr. Washburn nodded. “You had Wally write this, didn’t you?”

“God fucking damn it.” Brick said.

END.