Memories of Us

How will the future remember us? How will we remember ourselves as we live through the discontinuity and trauma of these times? What will we tell our children?

This short speculative fiction was developed as a protocol PILL around the themes of memory as part of the Summer of Protocols 2024 Cohort.

Rob looked fondly over his daughter Hope and her best friend Rae. He signed to himself and wondered again if today was a mistake. Rae was an intelligent, headstrong young woman unafraid to speak her mind. Unfortunately, of late, her mind had become ensnared in one of the many polluted information spaces that lurked on the internet. Even Hope had started to voice concerns. Rob suspected Rae’s grandma, a reclusive, stubborn old lady, was at least partly responsible. Rae had moved in with her grandma after her parents tragically passed away in a car accident while she was still a little girl. Although, Rob couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the story than that, the date was too much of a coincidence. Another reason bringing Rae along to the memory sanctuary may have been a mistake. No, he told himself pushing his fears aside, today was important he just hoped it wasn’t too late to get through.

Rae followed a few paces behind Rob and Hope as they walked through an unassuming doorway. She couldn't help notice the carved sign above the entrance that read "Memories are the soil in which the future grows". She rolled her eyes, typical hippie shit. It was another disgustingly hot, soupy day. Rae was dripping in sweat and in a fearsome mood. She liked Rob, saw him almost as a father figure to her, and Hope was the best friend she had ever had, but she could not be arsed with today. Some crappy museum about the town's recent history. Her gran would have a fit if she knew she was here. She had promised though and didn't want to let her friend down. They had been inseparable since meeting on the first day of school, shortly after she had moved to this small Yorkshire town.

They entered a blessedly cool hall, with high ceilings and sunlight streaming through the skylights. A few people were milling about, some in small groups quietly conversing while others sat alone. Soothing, ambient music drifted over the air played from unseen speakers. A giant canvas stretched the length of one side of the hall, half filled with drawings and iconography as well as words and phrases.

As they wandered further into the room, a smiling lady with frizzy greying hair strode across.

"Rob, Hope, lovely to see you both down here again. Who have you brought with you today?"

"Joanne, always a pleasure. This is Rae," Rob said, beckoning Rae forwards. "She moved to our town nearly 10 years ago now, but I have only just managed to persuade her to join us on one of our visits. I am not sure her gran approves."

"She doesn't" Rae muttered. Then forcing a smile to her face, she added, "Hi".

"Rae, wonderful to meet you at last. Hope has told me all about you, you sound like a wonderful friend." Joanne said warmly.

Rae shot a glare in Hope's direction before replying. "What do you even do here?"

"Well, this space is what we call a memory sanctuary, one of many actually. I volunteer my time here, acting as a weaver of memories. Today, I will be your guide and storyteller helping you make sense of the cacophony of memories that constitute this space." Joanne spoke with enthusiasm that she saw was not reflected in the young girl in front of her.

"Okay, but what is the point? If I want a story I can just pick up a book." Rae said, crossing her arms.

"They have some really interesting perspectives here Rae, not just memories from this town but access to voices and memories from people living in towns just like ours all across the world." Rob chipped in.

"Indeed." Joanne added. "Memory sanctuaries came about as a way for towns and communities to understand and make sense of the changes and turmoil they were living through. A safe, peaceful place for people to grieve for what has been lost, but also a place to celebrate the changes and progress that is being made and a place for people's voices to be heard. A place for difficult, uncomfortable conversations to be navigated as conflicting memories and narratives of histories are brought into the light. We try to reconcile these different threads and weave them into a shared narrative of our recent history. This narrative helps us chart a course into the future and it helps us bring people along with us."

"Oh give it a chance Rae. Please. For me." Hope pleaded.

Rae just shrugged.

"Well, we have a lot to get through." Joanne said, clapping her hands.

"First, let me give you your memory interfaces. Through these you can engage with and contribute to the memories we are going to be experiencing today. Rae, you will need to provide us with an identifier we can use to authentically associate with your interactions today. There are a number of wallet applications available for your screen if you don't already have one. Let me know if you need any help." Joanne said, smiling at Rae before turning to Rob.

"I assume you and Hope still have control over the identifiers you used with us previously. Feel free to create a new one, but we do love to see the history of contributions from participants over time. It really adds to the sense that these memories are sourced over time from members of the community. If participants allow it, you can even connect with them directly and ask deeper questions about the memories they have shared with us. We only ask that all conflicts and challenges over the memories are aired out in the open."

"How are you getting on Rae?" Joanne enquired.

"All sorted." Rae gestured to the black, microphone shaped device in her hand. She had already detached the headset and clipped it into one ear.

Joanne glanced at a notification that popped up on her device, tapped the screen a few times and looked up smiling.

"Excellent. You kids these days amaze me with your technical wizardry. It took me ages to figure out how to use a digital wallet and look after my keys." Joanne chuckled. "Right, I have added a young adult restriction to your identifier and set Rob up as your guardian. This just stops you from accessing certain restricted memories we have judged too violent or disturbing. Rob will also have to sign off on any of your contributions at the end of the day."

"Great, so now I am being treated like a child." Rae scowled. "How does this thing even work?" She added, waving the device around.

"I will explain as we explore, but essentially as we move through the sanctuary you will be able to use this device to both experience and participate in the memories I am going to walk you around. I have been told the design of these interfaces and the ways in which your contributions are digitally remembered within memory sanctuaries draws on ideas from those decentralised narrative building games that have become popular recently. Autonomous worlds I think they call them. Well maybe this is an autonomous world, but if it is it is one very much rooted in people and place. Anyway, we like to joke that these interfaces are our memory wands."

"So you must be the wizard?" Rob laughed.

"You could say that", Joanne stifled a giggle. "We call ourselves memory weavers, so perhaps it would be better as our needle but anyway."

"Right, so this is a cult?" Rae did not look impressed. "Why should I believe anything you are going to tell me today?"

"Rae, be nice c'mon." Hope put a hand on Rae's shoulder. "This place has memories of events that I lived through, you did too. They are telling the truth, I know they are."

"Well, Rae, that is a very intelligent question." Then looking at Hope she continued. "Actually, we aren't telling the truth. That is harder than it seems at first glance. Whose truth? It turns out it is complicated and contested."

Turning her warm gaze back towards Rae, she continued.

"We do have protocols in place to ensure that all memories are contributed by actual humans. Using these memory interfaces, having people come in person to this sanctuary, or ones like it, as well as some complicated information locking and time-stamping processes that I don't fully understand. These all contribute to the authenticity of the memories that have been inscribed here. But as for the realness of a memory, the truth of it, well that is all rather subjective. After all, even our own memories can be deceiving from time to time."

Smiling apologetically at Rae, she added. "Sorry, I know that's a lot of information. Please ask me any questions you may have, I will do my best to answer them."

"Okay then. Who are you? Why should I trust you?" Rae persisted stubbornly.

"Well, I am part of a network of sanctuaries and weavers. We are a guild of sorts, together we create, evolve and uphold a set of rules, responsibilities and expectations guiding behaviour of memory weavers. We pool knowledge, learn from each other and attempt to hold ourselves accountable. Our role is to orient and guide people through memory landscapes, to bring them to life through interactive experiences and to help people participate in sculpting these landscapes by sharing their own memories. The role comes with responsibility, after all as we like to say here memory is the soil from which the future grows. Each weaver brings their own unique perspectives and biases, we walk our own trails and make our own decisions about what to highlight and what to skim over. Even so, we try to be transparent about what we choose to exclude, pointing out other trails even as we stick to our own. Today you will be getting my version. I do this work because I have learnt to cherish this sanctuary and have seen first hand the important work it does in recovering from the discontinuity and trauma of these times." Joanne said, getting a little flustered.

"Rae, just keep an open mind. Many people have spent a lot of time and effort on this." Rob said, sighing.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Let's just get on with it." Rae shrugged.

"Right, yes. Follow me." With a final glance at Rae, Joanne turned and let them across the room.

As Rae trailed the others across the room she noticed an alcove tucked away to one side. Inside were a couple of comfy looking sofas set around a low table.

"What is that for?" Rae asked, trying to keep her voice uninterested.

"Oh Rae, that is one of the spaces they have for contributing memories. We came here a couple of years ago and told them all about our mum. " Hope gushed enthusiastically.

"Yes, Hope's mum has been something of an inspiration to this town. We were only too happy to add her garden trowel to our tales of regeneration and restoration collection."

"What do you mean, her garden trowel?" Rae asked, this time failing to keep the interest from her voice.

"Oh, you know my mum. She loves gardening. We contributed her trowel to the sanctuary to celebrate and remember all the hard work she put in helping this town become food self-sufficient." Hope said proudly.

"Yes, all the way from her guerilla gardening days. " Rob chuckled.

"A fantastic example!" Joanne exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "We like to use objects or locations in the physical world as pointers to and containers of memories that we hold here. In some ways you can think of us as a library of memory artifacts, each containing their own collection of stories. We find the ability to touch and feel something in your hands, or indeed visit a specific location, really enhances the whole memory experience."

"Cool, something I would actually like to see. Your mum is a legend!" Rae said, catching some of the enthusiasm in the room.

"You should join us for the annual harvest celebration this year Rae" Hope exclaimed.

"I'm not sure, maybe. What even is that?" Rae looked dubious.

"Oh it's organised by the local food cooperative my mum helped to set up. It is where they make decisions about what to grow next year, how to allocate funding and hold a celebration for the progress they have made over the year. It is a lot of fun. Lots of tasty scran." Hope added.

"Yes, the sanctuary has been involved for the last few years now. It has become a regular event in our calendar. We facilitate an experience that grounds people in a shared history of this effort, reminding people of the challenges and triumphs of the past. We have found it extremely conducive to the kinds of collaborative decision making protocols practised by the cooperative." Joanne added.

"Maybe." Rae repeated.

"Right, well the first memory space I want to show you is in here." Joanne said motioning towards an opening to their right.

They stepped into a spacious room that seemed to have multiple competing areas of attention. Joanne headed for the armchairs, set about halfway around the room. Once they had all settled into their seats, she began.

"Okay, welcome. This is one of three memory spaces we manage here at the sanctuary. Each space serves a different purpose, but they all follow a similar structure. Generally we split spaces into ten distinct points of attention, or memory locations, with the fifth usually a place to sit and reflect. I won't get into it, but this is based on memory techniques like the memory palaces of the Greeks or the memory landscapes that many indigenous, oral cultures have used for millennia to encode their knowledge systems. These days, many people believe that Stonehenge and other neolithic sites around the UK were primarily memory spaces. Today, memory sanctuaries create a sequential landscape of distinct, memorable locations that we can use as hooks for our memories. Memory weavers like myself rarely rely on the memory wands you will be using today when walking participants through an experience. Instead we tell stories from our memory, that draw on many sources contributed here. Then we let you explore the landscape for yourself, using your memory wands to interact with the interconnected web of memories that you have just been oriented within."

"This memory space currently holds memories of climate protest and resistance. Over there at the entrance of this room we have the first memory location, for me this is Extinction Rebellion's 2019 protest. I am reminded of the collective up-swelling of hope, of community and of possibility. Also of the bright pink Berta Cáceres, the boat that was used to take over Oxford Circus in London. Although two locations to the left, I am reminded of the Canning Town debacle and the fracturing of the movement with a number of more radical elements breaking away such as Just Stop Oil."

Rae's gaze took in the bright pink flag, with a black symbol in the middle that hung on the wall. In front of the flag she noticed a strange looking device.

"What is that?" Rae asked.

"Ah yes, I almost forgot. Each location will have some way for you to connect using your memory wand. Entry points to a digital landscape that you can explore. We are always experimenting with the many different mediums through which memories can be brought to life. One of the local schools has even started using some of the memories we hold here as inspiration for their annual school plays. It has been fascinating to see."

"Over at the fourth location, I have placed youth climate protests world wide. I am reminded of Greta Thunberg, or the Ace of Wands as I know her here."

"The Ace of Wands?" Rae butted in.

"Oh sorry, another memory trick I picked up while practising at the sanctuary. I like to associate people within these landscapes to cards from a deck. The Ace of Wands is from a Tarot deck, it felt appropriate for this passionate, fiery individual of the climate movement. The lonely, persistent school striker outside the Swedish parliament who inspired the marches of millions worldwide. At this location you will find Greta's 2019 UN assembly address, as well as contributions from children of this town who were inspired to participate in some of these protests by Greta."

"After Greta you arrive here, halfway through this memory space. We always like to make the halfway point a seat. It helps me remember that there should have been four locations so far."

"The location we are currently sitting in reminds me of the COVID19 crisis. A strange pause. A strangely peaceful world. A glimpse at the untold reality, that things could indeed be different. It was also the moment that accelerated conspiracy theories, exacerbated a cost of living crisis and brought into stark focus the powers of the state. Everyone experienced this moment differently, I have tried to honour that with the memories I have highlighted at this location."

"After here you will find the location I have associated with the local protest and resistance in our town. A microcosm of the events unfolding in towns across the UK, and indeed the world. Your mum's guerilla gardening fits in here. As well as the graffiti and its responses that emerged in the time."

Hope snickered as she tapped at her memory wand.

Rae's wand buzzed in her hand and her headset announced, "Private memories shared."

Joanne paused to look up at Hope for a moment, before continuing.

"Then we have the confluence of the destabilising effects of the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, the protests in response to these conflicts, public sector dissatisfaction, accelerating inequality and the intensifying of the climate crisis that led to mass protests and strikes of 2026. A real catalyst for change."

"After that I have a location that tries to bring in a global perspective, drawing on memories contributed to sanctuaries around the world. The climate crisis is a global phenomenon, however its effects unfold locally and are unevenly distributed. We must remember that many of the regions of the world most disastrously affected are regions inhabited by people who did little to contribute to the runaway greenhouse gas emissions we are now living with. I hope that some of the memories I have drawn attention to at this location can help us empathise with and have compassion for our fellow humans from all walks of life and all regions of our planet."

"Then I have a location that focuses on the political response to these protests. From denial, to police brutality all the way to the transformative government legislation that was eventually introduced."

"Over at location nine, we have the creation of memory sanctuaries, which was, we must not forget, itself a form of protest and resistance. Who controls the narrative and all that."

"Finally, I touch on protest and resistance today. We have made a lot of strides forward, but the need to question power, the need to resist overreach and the need to stand up for what we believe in hasn't gone away. I truly believe in a healthy society it never should."

"Right, that is enough of me waffling. Go and explore the space, take as much time as you need. Remember you can contribute, save or challenge any of the memories you encounter today using your memory wand. Let me know if you have any questions, I will be here if you need me."

After almost 40 minutes Rae came wandering back over looking sheepish.

"You know Joanne, this place is actually pretty interesting. I had never heard Greta Thunberg's speech before. And I can't believe that they only recently made it law to consider future generations when making decisions, that just seems obvious." Rae laughs.

"Thank you Rae, I am glad you see it that way Rae." Joanne beamed, pleased to see the magic of the memory sanctuary at work again. "It really has made a huge difference to the kinds of decisions being made."

Helping people see, feel and experience the past in new and different ways. Helping them empathise with their fellow humans. Helping them recognise the narrative ocean they swam in, showing them that it is but one version of the past. Each with their own logic, their own meaning making functions, their own judgement and measures of value. That was what these sanctuaries were all about. Joanne felt pride swell inside her before being brought back from her reverie by the approach of Hope and Rob.

"Right then, unless anyone has any questions let's continue on our journey. I think you are going to find our next stop very interesting. We are hosting a guest experience as part of our Lessons of Adaptation in an Unpredictable Planet series. Today we are opening a portal to Sonoma County where Megan will tell us how they adapted to the fire climate of California."

They set off out of the room, along a corridor passing a number of closed doorways. Rae thought she could hear the murmur of voices behind a few of them.

"What goes on in there then?" Rae asked.

"Oh, those are private spaces used for both education and group deliberation sessions. We do our best to curate a set of classes, talks and workshops that complement the work we do here, popular courses include the Long Time Academy, Playful Imagination and Shaping Meaning. We also have an upcoming series of workshops on Ruggedization that I am looking forward to. I can share our full timetable at the end, you are welcome to just drop in or you can sign up for a full course and collect badges of learning. There are a number of foundational courses that all memory weavers practising in a sanctuary are required to have completed. "

"So I would be signing up for extra school? No thanks." Rae laughed.

"What. No way. I could learn to do what you do?" Hope eyes grew wide.

"Sure, with time. There is no special magic to it. We can all learn to be better weavers of memory and shapers of meaning."

"A shaper of meaning. That sounds cool!" Hope exclaimed with a broad grin on her face.

"No Hope, it sounds dumb." Rae rolled her eyes.

"Don't listen to her Hope, I think you have the makings of a wonderful memory weaver. You both do." Rob chimed in.

"Right here we are everyone." Joanne ushered them through the door she held open.

They filed into a room already half full with people sitting in a semi-circle around a screen. The screen displayed words wreathed in flame, "Adapting to a Fire Climate: Lessons from Sonoma County".

Joanne moved to the front of the group, next to the screen.

"Welcome everyone, thank you for coming. Before we get started I want to remind everyone that the purpose of these sessions is to stimulate discussion. It is up to us, as a community, to figure out how these experiences might apply to us. Don't be shy, talk to each other as you explore this landscape together. With that let me hand it over to Megan to orient us."

The words on the screen were replaced by a smiling, friendly face. The gentle murmuring of those gathered died away as the calm, confident voice came through their headsets. They listened, rapt, as Megan introduced them to the memory landscape she had curated for this experience. The history of fire management and (mis)management in California, from indigenous communities through to fire departments. The increasing frequency, intensity and devastation of fire within this region. The necessity of fire as a vital, cyclical component of the Californian ecology, including the many species of plant life that depend on fire for renewal. The stories, including her own, of those who had lost everything to fire: lives and livelihoods, homes and hope. The response, in her county and many others, of negotiating and managing controlled burns introduced as protocols for adaptation to a fire climate.

She closed with the words:

"Fire is an integral part of California, it is not something to be eradicated from the landscape but respected and stewarded. California is a fire climate. We are learning to adapt to that, and in many ways relearning knowledge indigenous communities have long known and safeguarded for the future. We are starting to see the rewards of these efforts."

As she drew to a close, a smattering of applause rippled around the room and an arm was raised into the air.

"Ah yes, before I let you wander this memory landscape for yourselves we have time for a few questions. Please." She said, looking towards the man whose hand was raised.

"Thank you for sharing that with us. All very interesting, but our town and county is not a fire climate. Most of the time it is wet, grey and windy." A few people chuckled. "What are the lessons we can learn from your experiences?"

"Great question. I believe much of what we learnt is transferable. Perhaps we could work together to develop a set of protocols for adaptation to a fierce and changing climate. Things that immediately come to mind are; how we coordinated activity and compromise across multiple stakeholders, incentives and objectives, how we built and maintained public support for our activities and the importance of developing an intimate understanding of the local ecology and its inherent climate risks."

She paused for a moment, looking around the room before continuing.

"For example, you live in a valley. A beautiful one from what I have seen, but wet as you say. I read about the great Yorkshire floods that happened a while back, a terrible business. Perhaps, instead of fire in these parts of the world you should be looking at flood management and adaptation. And I don't mean huge infrastructure projects, though they might be necessary in places, I mean ways that you, the community, can work with nature to channel, slow and manage water flows in times of extreme weather events."

"I remember that day," someone muttered shaking their head, "the rainfall was like a monsoon. Water just seemed to fly off the hills and the rivers kept rising."

"April 5th, 2023. A dark day for Yorkshire. My house was ruined and many people lost their lives. We just weren't prepared, it all happened so fast." Another added softly.

The conversation continued, but Rae had stopped processing the words. She suddenly felt sick. April 5th, 2033. The day her parents died. A flood of memories, buried deep within herself, had become dislodged and threatened to overwhelm her. Dazed and uncaring to the world around her, she stood and staggered out of the room.

​Joanne found Rae out in the garden slumped against one of the stones from the sanctuary's small stone circle. As she approached Rae attempted to rub the tears from her eyes. Joanne sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. They sat like this in silence for a while, until Rae looked up into Joanne's kind, caring eyes and whispered. "My parents died in that flood. I remember now, they saved me that day." She shuddered as she let out another sob. "How could I forget something like that? Why did my grandma hide the truth from me all these years? She always told me they died in a car accident."

Joanne could hear the anger seeping into Rae's voice.

"Oh Rae, I'm so sorry." She sighed. "I imagine your grandma was trying to protect you, and I suspect herself although she might not admit it or even realise it. Even today, for some people it is easier to pretend that everything is normal. To ignore the evidence that is all around us, that the world that humanity grew up in, the world that sustained us, has been irrevocably changed. Changed by us, through our hubris, our greed and insatiable thirst for material wealth. Our planet, our home in a dark, cold, uncaring universe has become unstable, unpredictable and all too often terrifyingly violent. It saddens me to know that your generation has never known anything different."

Joanne paused to compose herself.

"We failed you, but I hope you can live by different stories. I hope your generation can learn to treat each other with compassion and humility. Learn to live in and with the boundaries of this finite, beautiful goddess that is our planet Earth. Our home." She smiled sadly.

Rae just sat there silently, absorbed in her own thoughts.

"Rae, come with me I would like to show you something."

Joanne helped Rae to her feet, took her by the hand and led her across the garden to a small, peaceful glade of trees.

"This is where we remember those we have lost. We hold a number of different remembrance gatherings over the year here. One of those is remembering those lost during the April 5th floods. The first trees here were planted after that day, one for each member of our town who lost their lives. I know your parents did not live here then, but we would be honoured if you would use this space to remember them with us. In fact, this Autumn we are organising a planting for the latest set of climate refugees from the Yorkshire coast. You would be more than welcome to join us and plant a tree for your parents if you would like."

Rae took the outside world in for the first time since she had stumbled out of the sanctuary. Looking around the wooded glade she took in how the bluebells sprinkled the lush green grass with colour and the delightful chirp of birdsong that drifted along the breeze. In the middle of the glade, a circle of tree trunks that had been carefully carved into seats surrounded a small fire pit. It was a serene place.

"Thank you, I think I might like that", Rae turned and gave Joanne a hug. "I am sorry about today, I think I might have been listening to my gran for too long. I wonder if I could persuade her to come visit this place one day."

Rae paused for a moment looking thoughtful before adding. “You know, maybe I should try out some of those courses you mentioned earlier.”

Joanne beamed at Rae.

"Come on, let's go back inside and find the others, they will be worrying. We have one final memory space to explore if you are feeling up for it. I call this one Tales of Restoration and Regeneration. There is so much positive change to celebrate going on all around us every single day. Sometimes we forget to notice it."