Kim Seo-yeon deftly aligned the memscreen and set the parameters. She had always fancied herself as much an artist as a technician, striving for the utmost clarity and verisimilitude. She knew that it must have taken Bae Ji-min ten years or more to save enough credits for an implant of this quality – an ancient memory from before the foundation of the Democratic People’s Caverns, when the world was bright and safe.

This entry is part of my journal, published January 8, 2016, in Berlin.