Reminiscence & luminescence. 

That’s what today is all about.

We walk side by side in the glass bordered hallway, just like we’ve always done in the past. But today we move sedately - like we’re counting steps of 1-2-3. It's like the time when we were first learning to dance when everything is still measured by the precise numbers of the choreographers. 

It takes us long before we reach the end of the hall even though it’s only 50 steps away.When we do, I look back at it and marvel at how everything before me is the same. It still has the same glass panels at its sides with people’s faces framed in transparent glass. But as I look more, I shake my head and realize that no familiar smiles and poses stare back anymore. It’s more different than the same.

I pass these halls almost everyday but being with you brings down this heavy nostalgia upon me. 

You nudge me and tell me, “ Jiyong, hurry up” in that soft voice of yours. 

Ah, what a wonderful sound to hear. 

 It’s been a while since I heard you call my name.  Your eyes, as they implore me, still look at me the same way. They’re full of patience at my tendency toget easily distracted by the flashy things that surround me. I nod as we walk into another passage way – one that leads to our real destination. We walk faster but we stop every now and then as we are greeted by the younger ones whose faces you don’t recognize. You greet them with a grin and a pat on the back and I give them a tiny smile - our usual M.O. And my mind goes to that long forgotten line, remember back in the days.

We’re now standing before a white biometric-locked elevator. Your eyes widen at both its simplicity and complexity.  The image of a woman flashes on a tiny screen before us, asking for your social security and your purpose for visit. Your forehead creases and I can tell you’re disturbed. Your hand fidgets and then pulls into a tight fist. I briefly touch your forearm to reassure you. I give her the numbers and Yang Yoojin’s name. The woman tells us to come closer to the screen and she scans our retinas. Within a few seconds, the door opens. We step inside and shuttle to the top floor.

You gasp as you take in the sight of the room the moment we step out of the elevator. The office is still as spacious as before. The life-sized robot statue still stood at its entrance like a guard on its watch. But they’re the only things that remain the same. Gone are the toy collections in the white cabinets and the brown couches we used to sit on. They’re replaced by blue, white and golden seats with flat cushions and backrests. These days, the place almost seems like a gallery with the sleek off white floor and walls . The wall's entire length are now giant streams of touch sensitive computers – shiny like the old LED platforms. What technology ran them, I no longer know. I’ve long ceased thinking of the terms people used for them.

You touch a wall and to your surprise, a menu written in several languages appear in a hologram.When you try to touch the hologram, the room erupts into the company’s popular songs one after the other while the walls project life sized images of people dancing to the music. You are startled by the noise and break out of your quiet contemplation to ask, “Who are they? How did you do that?”

I shake my head. I don’t know how to explain to you without confusing you.

Yang Yoojin emerges from the conference room at the end of the office.  Her face is that of a grown woman’s. If you look closely, you’ll be able to see those tell-tale signs of stress – the fine lines that the makeup carefully hides.There’s confidence in her stride and elegance in composure befitting of the CEO of the company. She approaches us.

“Jiyong goon, Youngbae goon. How are you?” She smiles at me then at you.

You whisper to me, “Who is she?”

I tell you her name. You nod, as if that satisfies you. But I can see your brows furrow in search of any recollection of her. The struggle is evident in your face. My breath catches as I wait for you to say something. But the frown disappears and you greet her with a smile.

Yoojin’s face, I’m sure, is almost a mirror of mine’s. The disappointment tugs heavily in our hearts.

 “We’re fine. How are you Yoojin?”

Her gaze goes to me, full of sympathy and understanding. She understands.  She loved you, this one -like how Hareum and Harang adored you and all the children do.

“I’m good.We’re starting to plan for the training the new kids now.”

“Do you have that cd I asked of you? The compilation?”

“Of course.As promised.” She hands me a dvd. I almost laugh at it because it’s a relic compared to the data storage devices now.

“How is hyung?” It’s a question I ask of her from time to time.

Her eyes sadden. You and her father share the same twist of fate. But his was on schedule, yours was too early. I look at you and almost curse at you for being ahead of your time.

“He’s healthy,” she says to me, “That’s all we can ask for.”

I nod but I silently disagree. I want to ask for more. - for hyung, for you, for me, for everyone.

“We’ll go ahead.”

I guide you back to the elevator and we go back down the same way we went up. Once inside,you ask me questions about Yoojin, the office, the company. I tell you about them – one by one. Yoojin is Yang Hyun Suk’s daughter, the office and the companyis YG's. You look at me with disbelieving eyes and ask me if I’m making stories up because Hyun Suk doesn't have a daughter nor does he own such a pretty building. When the elevator opens you step out angry at me.

I explain things more - about the disease and how it’s affected you. You shake your head in denial. But as we exit the building, little things slowly come back to you and you calm down. We climb on the backseat of the car as the chauffeur opens it for us. You ask me to tell you everything.

I almost weep. For the moment, I have you back. I tell you what happened in the past 40 years. How our lives have been – your wedding, my children’s christening, your daughter’s graduation, my son’s debut as a singer. You laugh at my stories sprinkled with exaggerations and jokes only you would understand.  Then I tell you of your diagnosis - how you reacted, how your family felt, what everyone did. As the car crosses the Han River, I speak of the past,the present and the future.

We arrive at your house. It belongs to the same neighbourhood as mine. Everyday, I pass by to drink coffee with you while we relive the tiny fragments of memories left in your mind. We talk about them as long as we can. It’s the only way we can make them last. 

If only we can keep them immortal.

Your wife hurries out to greet us. She's still wearing her apron. Most likely, she was just cooking for you. She asks me what happened and I just smile to tell her you’re showing good signs of remembering. Tears start to roll down her cheeks as she links your arms together.

I hand over the dvd and tell her it’s a compilation of all your past works. It has all our pre-debut videos – from the time we were twelve to the time our group retired.It even has the self-made ones we took to improve what little skills we had. I tell her to play it for you.

We enter your house and all of us sit in the living room to talk. There, she asks you if you’re alright. But then you reply, “Who are you?”

She despairs at the question but I tell her not to. I reveal our talk on the way home and how you asked about her. What does she look like? Is she kind? Do our children take after her or me?  I tell her the last thing you said while you’re lucid: Do I love her? Wait, don’t answer. She’s my wife so I must really love her.

She goes silent, as if relishing the words and then she smiles for the first time in a long while. I check my watch. It’s almost dinner. My family is waiting for me so I get up. I tell her I’ll be back tomorrow - as always. I wave a farewell to you. You wave back.

As I think of you on my way back home, I  ponder on how bittersweet this day is.

Dong Youngbae.  

Maybe your memories constantly slip past your consciousness. Maybe the only thing that’s clear is your name.  But as long as I’m here, I’ll hold your hand just like you promised never to let go of mine.

I won’t let you fade into darkness. We'll walk together into the sunlight instead.

-------

Author's note: This fic was inspired by the book Still Alice whose subject is about the early onset of Alzheimer's disease and dementia. Here's the synopsis of the novel: http://www.amazon.com/Still-Alice-Lisa-Genova/dp/0595440096

My story is a bit heavy and sad and set in the future. So, there's part where there's mention of gadgets that seem more or less futuristic. That part is inspired by AFF's dream_keeper and her story posted elsewhere. :D Please let me know what you think! Drop a line so I can improve on my writing.