Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1) by Mariana Morgan (essential reading txt) 📕

so much for the fact that she had done it, but who she had done it to. In a way, he was far more disappointed with Lieutenant Rivas, who had had zero justification for using force, but at the end of the day Rivas’ BCC was Elite; Ingram’s wasn’t. Beating up an Elite, or drugging her, for that matter, when your own BCC said Leech was a seriously stupid idea. Ingram was lucky that despite her abhorrent ignorance, Eloise Moretti was a rather unusual Elite who had expressed no interest in revenge. So far.

That recklessness is going to land her in serious trouble, Gonzalez mused, more resigned than worried.

Nevertheless, it was his responsibility to make sure Ingram understood just how lucky she was. And it was also his responsibility to make sure she was fit for work.

Despite the lingering drugtox, he could insist on nano-drug–supported talking therapy. They had the necessary VRP for that, and the Medibot was more than competent enough to monitor the treatment, even in her condition. If necessary, Gonzalez could even insist on using nano-drugs to wipe out Ingram’s memories of the days in the slums altogether. There were drugs that could selectively delete someone’s memories as they recalled them, which was what Gonzalez had meant when he talked to Eloise about forgetting what had happened to her.

In a relaxed environment, a highly trained mind healer using state-of-the-art technology could selectively modify anyone’s memories. The process usually took days, sometimes even weeks in complicated cases, to ensure only those memories that had to be taken out were removed, leaving everything else as it was. That was indeed the luxury Eloise Moretti could allow herself when this was all over and she was safely back home.

The situation with Ingram was different. Gonzalez needed her now, and that left only a much cruder approach. There was a quick procedure that could indiscriminately remove the few days from Ingram’s mind, but at the expense of leaving a gaping hole behind. With the wave of a proverbial magic wand, the trauma, the impossible decisions and the painful consequences would be forever gone from her memory. However, that would also erase the experience she had gained, her pride in the achievement, her knowledge that she could do it and so much more. In a way, a part of who she was would be lost.

Short-term, it would help her focus on her next task. In the long run it would create personality problems. Wiping someone’s memory unselectively was a radical move. Once it had seemed like the holy grail of trauma therapy, the desperately sought-after solution to treating PTSD and severe anxiety. Unfortunately, it had turned out to be nothing of the sort.

The human brain didn’t like having gaps in memory. It persistently wondered why the gaps were there in the first place, often leading to hallucinations and paranoia, making life virtually impossible. It just weakened the mind, creating doubts about one’s strength and abilities. The persistent and often irrational ‘It was all my fault’ remained even in the absence of traumatic memories.

Over the last couple of centuries, the procedure had evolved quite a lot but remained drastic, and side effects couldn’t be ruled out. No medical doctor would recommend the unselective erasure of memories unless it was a dire emergency. Some considered it unethical. The military, of course, had their own laws, rules and regulations, and the Freedom Wars had provided their scientists with a steady stream of not-so-willing volunteers to experiment on.

Gonzalez was honest enough with himself to admit it did have its uses. The procedure itself, not the illegal experiments on human lab rats, of course. The world they lived in wasn’t perfect, and that meant imperfect decisions had to be made. Sometimes hard decisions.

Ingram must have known he was considering it. She was too smart not to understand the options available. And yet, she made no effort to convince him she was fine. She just… continued being herself. Given the state she had been in when they had brought her in barely a couple of days ago, she was actually doing remarkably well. But he knew that what he saw was what she wanted him to see. Not the actual raw mess that her mind must be in.

And just how am I supposed to determine what state you are in if you won’t be honest with me? he thought with a sigh.

As if sensing his worries, Ingram smiled at him with understanding.

Gonzalez knew she would resent the order to have her memories wiped. Who wouldn’t? Deep down she would understand why, and she would follow his order, but that still didn’t make it right. Having to choose between the good of the op and the well-being of his people was what he despised most about his line of work. Especially when it wasn’t clear at all whether any type of intervention was required.

Still in two minds, he reached for his coffee. Unprepared to have all his taste buds assaulted at once, he coughed, splattering the coffee on the desk.

‘Carlotta, do you think you could actually put some water in the coffee you make? You know, for us mere mortals who haven’t yet evolved enough to drink it neat?’

The old banter felt surprisingly natural despite the tense situation. His running joke was only a slight exaggeration—the coffee looked more like thick syrup.

‘I will bear that in mind in the future, sir,’ Ingram replied with an evil grin, reaching for a tissue to mop up the coffee. She made no move to rectify his dilemma, however. She never did.

Gonzalez considered getting up himself to dilute the vile thing, but decided he could probably use the caffeine kick anyway. He shuddered dramatically and took another sip. It was only marginally better than the first one.

He was about to make a comment about what happens to subordinates who feed their COs bitter sludge instead of coffee when an expression of intense focus appeared on Ingram’s face. The woman was staring at the