Chapter 30: The Gambit (Patreon)

[REDACTED -- Read on RoyalRoad for most recent version]

Author's Note:

Hope you liked the chapter folks!!! Thanks for reading and your support!

There's an important retcon that I'm pulling that I wanted to make sure y'all were notified of. Here's the post notes from RoyalRoad:

SKIP IF YOU STARTED READING AFTER OCTOBER 17, 2025.

TLDR: [Perfect Memory] will only trigger Thal's memories from external stimuli like sensory feedback (sight/sound/smell/etc), dialogue/conversation, or strong emotions. Caleb cannot actively control its recall.

As always, thanks for reading!

There has been a lot of commentary--rightfully so--on Caleb not using his access to Thal's memories more actively. He's supposed to be this intelligent, analytical dude, right? Wouldn't he have data mined that kid's past for information on how to survive? Heck yeah he would have! Y’all were right, and this was a gap.

Somewhere after Chapter 10, I started writing the memories to trigger off external stimulus and thought it was sufficient… and it wasn’t. So, I needed to go back and retcon the manuscript. I’ve done my best to keep the narrative true while making passable changes, with the main point of clarification being after the six-week time skip at the beginning of Chapter 10. I’m going to post that quote below, and the TLDR is above.

Appreciate all the feedback on this. It was definitely an issue that needed addressing. And for those that might ask: there will be a more detailed rationalization for this down the road. We’re just not going to be able to explore it for some time.

Thanks,

JS

His knife faltered. The blade bit crooked, mangling the onion beneath. The vision broke apart, yanking him back to the kitchen with its stone walls and pale morning light slanting through high windows. His grip trembled, and the knife shook.

Caleb sighed, bitter with frustration.

The ease of it was the cruelest part. His own past, the life with Evelynn and the kids, was a pristine library he could walk through at will. Every memory was preserved, whole and real.

But the past of the body he wore? That was a different story. For six weeks, he’d tried to systematically access Thal’s memories, to sit down and build a mental encyclopedia of this new world. It was the logical thing to do.

And it had never worked.

Thal’s memories were a shattered archive, a library where a bomb had gone off, leaving only disconnected pages fluttering in the dark. He couldn’t search for a topic. He couldn’t browse. A page only appeared when a gust of wind from the present—a sensory impression, strong emotion, words spoken—blew it into his hands.

His [Perfect Memory] was the flawless librarian, but it couldn't read a book that had been torn to shreds. He was an archaeologist, forced to piece together a lost history from broken pottery and scattered bones.

He forced himself back to work. The knife's beat became a mantra—thump-thump-thump—each impact an attempt to drown out her ghost and the useless fragments of another's.