The judge delivered his verdict immediately after the lawyers’ closing arguments. He did not want to waste anybody’s time deliberating over such an open-and-shut case, particularly when one of the parties was Dennis Pottinger. As Jane had predicted from the beginning, the judge ruled against her on both issues.
‘The end of a marriage is always a sad occasion,’ said His Lordship, casting an unctuous smile towards Jane’s former husband, Dennis, and his phalanx of corporate lawyers. ‘The sadness is all the greater when there are children involved.’ The judge adjusted his glasses and continued. ‘The applicant, Jane Lee, has applied for sole custody of the children. She asks the court to overlook a clearly worded prenuptial agreement, which includes arrangements for the children. She bases her request on what she describes as her former husband’s ‘emotional distance’ from the children. To be clear, she does not allege any cruelty or other mistreatment, just emotional distance.’ The judge clearly found the expression distasteful.
‘And yet,’ he went on, ‘this court has been shown countless pictures of Dennis Pottinger celebrating his children’s birthdays, attending their school performances and sports events, and joining them on holiday. The overwhelming impression is that he is a most attentive father, which, if I may say so, is admirable considering his public profile and immense responsibilities.’ The ingratiating smile returned.
‘Pre-eminent as Mr Pottinger may be in the community, the paramount consideration for this court is the welfare of the two children. On that point, I am satisfied that it is in their best interest for both parents to remain involved in their upbringing. I therefore reject Ms Lee’s application, and award joint custody.’
A murmur passed between the journalists in the public area of the courtroom.
‘Now,’ said the judge, ‘we come to the second issue. The court is asked to decide what to do with the couple’s memories.’
There was another murmur of excitement from the journalists.
#
‘How lovely to meet you, Ms Lee. Congratulations on your engagement!’
Jane blushed and shook the lawyer’s hand. She took a seat at the glossy conference table and tried to stop herself fiddling with the enormous stone on her engagement ring. It was a lot to get used to. The lawyer smiled encouragingly and smoothed the skirt of her impeccable pinstriped suit.
‘I have been through the prenuptial agreement, Ms Lee, and I must say that it is very favourable for you. The terms are more than fair, and it bodes well that Mr. Pottinger has encouraged you to take independent legal advice to put your mind at ease. He’s not trying to rush you into anything. In the unlikely event that the marriage ends in divorce, you will find yourself very well provided for. But of course, I’m sure it will never come to that.’
Jane nodded and, finding herself fidgeting again, sat on her hands. The stone snagged on her trousers. ‘I’m not really bothered about any of that,’ she said. ‘I know about Dennis’ family business, and I understand that he needs to protect his legacy. What I’m worried about is this Mnemonizer thing. I’m not sure what I think about messing around with our memories like that.’
The lawyer smiled her most reassuring smile. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘you needn’t worry about that. The technology is very advanced now. And I think it’s extremely romantic that Mr Pottinger wants to pool his memories with you.’
‘I know. He is lovely. But it just seems a bit unnatural,’ said Jane.
‘It’s completely non-invasive,’ said the lawyer. ‘Each night the Mnemonizers in your pillows retrieve the memories of your time together and transfer them to the other spouse. I have never experienced it myself – the cost is far too high for a humble lawyer like me – but I’m told it makes the memories much more vivid, more three dimensional. So, if you and Mr Pottinger have a romantic dinner on the deck of one of his yachts, you will remember what he saw as well as what you saw – the whole panorama of sea and sky. The two perspectives are blended, so you get a much clearer picture. You will be making memories together, quite literally.’
Misreading Jane’s worried expression, the lawyer tilted her head to one side and smiled. ‘Just between us ladies, you needn’t worry about privacy. Only memories of time you spend together will be pooled. He won’t have access to anything that happens when he’s not in the room with you.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Jane, ‘It’s the bit at the end of the agreement. It says that if we split up, all our memories will be deleted.’
The lawyer gave a reassuring smile. ‘Oh no, Ms Lee. Not all of them. Each memory is tagged with the identity of the person it belongs to. So, if you were to split up – God forbid – the Mnemonizer would just erase the memories that belong to Mr Pottinger from you, and your memories from him. Neither would lose anything of your own.’
‘But what if they make a mistake?’ said Jane.
‘It’s a very standard clause for marriages involving prominent people like Mr Pottinger,’ said the lawyer. ‘It would be too risky for somebody to have access to their private memories if that person were no longer part of the family.’
‘So you think I should sign it?’ asked Jane.
‘Well, it’s really not for me to say, but in my professional opinion, this is a very reasonable prenuptial agreement. Joint custody of any children you are blessed with, a generous financial package for you, and complete retention of your own memories. I think it should give you the confidence to get on with planning the perfect wedding and a wonderful life together.’
The lawyer showed Jane to the lift and held her hand a little longer than was necessary. ‘I wish you a very long and happy marriage,’ she said.
#
At first Jane wondered whether the Mnemonizer was working properly. Her memories didn’t seem to be any more vibrant or complete than before. It took her some time to realise that this was because Dennis paid attention to things that did not really interest her. Even when they were together in the same room, he often concentrated on something different, and that was what he remembered. It was all there in her head, but her mind didn’t seek out the memories Dennis shared with her or linger on them. It would skip over them like dull articles in a magazine.
It was a little unsettling to discover how different their priorities were, but Jane was undeterred. She resolved to focus more on the memories which were obviously his. That way she would grow to understand him better. It was an investment in her marriage.
She decided to start with the biggest day of their lives together, their wedding day. Her own memories had the brightness of a spring morning: her sisters in their bridesmaids’ dresses, helping her get ready; the breathtaking sight of the cathedral decorated with thousands of white roses; Dennis looking dashing in his morning suit. Her heart ached a little as she recalled her parents, looking proud but out of place among the sort of people they had only seen on TV. Her mother looked lovely in the hat she had agonised over for so long; her father looked alarmingly small and old in his best suit.
She scanned the remaining memories of their wedding day, looking for images of the bride. She wanted to see herself as Dennis had seen her. But all she could find were her own memories of looking in the mirror. She understood that the contents of the Mnemonizer pool changed over time. As memories faded or changed in the mind of the owner, they would be updated in the Mnemonizer. The implication was as clear as it was hurtful. Dennis had forgotten what she looked like on their wedding day. Instead of images of her seen through his eyes, she found only memories of politicians and celebrities approaching Dennis with expressions of gratitude and admiration on their faces.
Jane sat alone in their penthouse, tears blurring her vision. Dennis was away on business that day, so no one but her would ever remember how his memories made her feel.
The Mnemonizer did not record complicated thoughts or interior monologue, just images and basic emotions like joy and anger. Even so, it was possible to get a good idea of what the other person was thinking by the moments their minds chose to retain. Little by little, Jane began to understand her husband through the most trivial of incidents.
If the two of them played tennis, she would remember the sunlight on the court and the athletic way he surged towards the net. But Dennis only ever recalled the final rally of the match. It was the outcome that mattered to him – whether he won or lost.
When they played doubles against one of Dennis’ school friends and his wife, Jane afterwards remembered the fun she’d had scampering around the court, and how happy the other couple had looked to be together. Dennis retained a single image: Jane hitting the ball into the net on the final point.
By the time the children came along, Jane was not surprised to see how little interest he took in them. In some ways he was no different from the other fathers in their social circle. They came to the school performances and sports events as a matter of duty, always showing up late and spending most of their time at the back of the hall barking into their phones. It was enough for Jane that Dennis came, and that their children believed he cared.
But the contrast between their memories became starker as the years passed. At their son’s first swimming gala, Jane remembered the boy standing on the blocks in his oversized goggles and baggy speedos, his skinny little legs twitching with fear. Dennis remembered him finishing the race in fourth place. By the time she decided to leave him, Jane understood Dennis perfectly, and that was why she applied to the court to keep the Mnemonizer’s pool of memories intact.
#
‘This is the first time a court has been called upon to adjudicate a dispute about the division of shared memories,’ said the judge. ‘The technology is still relatively new, and the cost of the service puts it beyond the means of all but an elite few.’ He nodded respectfully in the direction of Dennis Pottinger.
‘Since signing the prenuptial agreement, Ms Lee has changed her mind. She would now prefer to keep her former husband’s memories as well as her own. I must say that I can understand her predicament. Who would wish to forget even a moment of the lifestyle that she has enjoyed for the past ten years? But I see no reason to treat the couple’s memories any differently than their other property. They entered the marriage with a clear understanding of what would happen to their children, their property and their memories in the event of separation. It was a fair agreement – very fair indeed – and I intend to uphold it. Both the memories and custody of the children will be divided.’
The judge tapped his gavel on the bench and the journalists rushed off to file their stories.
#
Jane sat in her brand-new apartment, surrounded by brand-new Scandinavian furniture. There were rooms for the children to stay in during their days with her, and spectacular views of the harbour. She was the legal owner, but it would never be her home.
The building, like so many others she could see from the window, had been built by Dennis’ family firm. They owned the electricity company that powered the air conditioning, and the fibre optic cables that carried her emails and phone calls to her family, seven thousand kilometres and a continent away. He controlled the skyline and the utility tunnels; the air services and the ferry routes; the wholesale, retail and disposal of half the goods that flowed through the city. It was his town, and she was his prisoner. The judge’s ruling kept her tied to the city.
Jane could not take the children overseas without Dennis’ written permission. She could not move them, as she longed to do, to the scruffy old house at the end of a gravel road where she had grown up, to run around the paddocks with their cousins in the long summer evenings. And because she could not leave her children, Jane could not go home and take up her old job in the village café, where the farmers and the pensioners and the young mothers came to gossip in shifts throughout the day. Nor could Jane be with her ailing father during the final months of his life. Dennis had joint custody of the children, so he had total custody of Jane.
Jane started a little at the unfamiliar ringtone of her new phone. She knew who it would be, but the call had come earlier than she expected.
#
‘How lovely to see you again, Ms Lee,’ said the lawyer. The tailoring of her suit had been updated since they first met ten years before, but the fabric was still a dark pinstripe. The lawyer sat next to her at the boardroom table to show that they were on the same side.
‘I have been contacted by Mr Pottinger’s lawyers. They would like to negotiate the restoration of the the Mnemonizer memory pool that was dissolved after your divorce. They did not give any reasons for the change of heart, but I’m sure you have seen the headlines. It appears that Mr Pottinger has been going off the rails a little since the divorce. From what I hear, losing access to your memories has sent him into a depression. His family are prepared to offer very generous terms.’
Jane nodded and gave a half-smile.
‘You don’t seem surprised,’ said the lawyer.
‘I’ve had access to part of his mind for the past ten years,’ said Jane. ‘I found out early on – not early enough, unfortunately – that he was barely capable of experiencing joy. Since we got the Mnemonizer, he has relied entirely on me to provide him with happy memories. He needs me to experience love for his children and feel loved by them. He has become so dependent on my memories for his own happiness, I don’t think he could experience it independently, even if he tried.’
‘So why did you apply to the court to keep the Mnemonizer pool intact?’ asked the lawyer. ‘Not for his sake, surely?’
‘As I say, I have come to know him quite intimately. Dennis is compelled to win at absolutely everything. He didn’t want to lose my memories, but if he thought it would hurt me to lose access to his, then he had to enforce the agreement and break up the pool. He was prepared to harm himself to score one last victory over me. That was what I wanted. I need him to be utterly broken in order to get what I want from him.’
‘What is it you want? A better financial settlement? I’m sure they will come to the table.’
Jane waved her hand dismissively. ‘I want sole custody of my children.’
‘But why would he agree to that?’ asked the lawyer. ‘Surely it would make him even more miserable if you took his children away.’
Jane reached down and took a single sheet of paper out of her bag. She laid it on the table and slid it towards the lawyer. It was the first time she had moved her hands since sitting down.
‘Now that Dennis fully understands his predicament, these are my terms. He will apply to the court to transfer sole custody of the children to me. Given his behaviour over the past month, I don’t think the judge will object. In return, I will restore all my memories to the Mnemonizer…’ The lawyer tried to interject, but Jane raised her hand to silence her.
‘…and, as long as Dennis leaves me alone, I will continue to upload every one of my interactions with the children to the Mnemonizer. Every day there will be a fresh set of memories of his kids growing up in the countryside. He can enjoy the cuddles, and the tantrums, and picnics at the beach, without ever having to put down his phone or look up from his laptop. He can spend his entire life winning his silly games, and I will supply him with the vicarious emotion he needs to get through the day.’
‘He’ll become a monster,’ gasped the lawyer.
‘Don’t bother walking me to the lift,’ said Jane, rising to her feet. ‘I want his jet fuelled-up and waiting for me at the airport by the time school is over for the day.’
As Jane strode out of the office, the lawyer called after her, ‘I wish you a very long and happy life, Ms Lee.’
This story has an amazingly original subject. How very clever to think of this.