Memory Makers

Chapter 2-1

CHAPTER TWO

The ad on f*******: caught my attention. It popped up on the right-hand side of the page like the multitude of other ads that people pay for to advertise their products to an international market. The software customizes these ads, so you see more of the ones that might interest you. Since I belonged to a few f*******: cat-themed groups and had purchased cat supplies, jewelry, and clothing online, I often saw sales for cat items in my news stream. The ad for Memory Makers was different. “Having trouble with your Memory? Memory Makers can help. Click here for a confidential evaluation and see if you’re eligible to participate in a trial for our breakthrough memory loss treatment.”

How could f*******: have known that I’d been trying to recover a lost memory? Despite the weird coincidence, I clicked on the link. It directed me to a Google form that asked for my contact information: address, email, and phone number. There was a disclaimer in small print releasing f*******: from any connection with Memory Makers or their products.

After completing the information, I received an automatic response in my email thanking me for contacting Memory Makers and promising that I would hear back from them within forty-eight hours. I heard back the next day with a message left on my answering machine that I played when I came home from work.

“Miss Phelps, this is Dr. Randolph Murray. I received your response to our invitation to be screened for our memory loss or, should I say, memory retrieval drug trial. Call me for further details about our program.” He left a number that I dialed with my cell.

I was surprised that, instead of a receptionist, Dr. Murray himself answered my call.

“Randolph Murray, may I help you?” His voice sounded cultured with that touch of coldness professionals often exuded.

“Dr. Murray, this is Lauren Phelps. I’m returning your call returning my call for more information about Memory Makers.” I hadn’t meant to add a giggle at the end of my reply. I was afraid he would think I was a nervous schoolgirl, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Ms. Phelps. So nice to hear from you. I understand you responded to our f*******: ad. To be eligible to participate in our trial, you would need to travel to offices in Los Angeles for an interview and some testing. If you’re accepted into the trial, you’ll be housed near Memory Makers free of charge for three months while we evaluate your response to the medication. There won’t be any compensation except the knowledge that you will helping to put a drug on the market that would help memory loss sufferers. And, of course, you would benefit yourself from the treatment, although there are no guarantees. Would that interest you?”

I paused considering this information. Having spent my whole life in New York, I’d never traveled to California but knew it was a half country away. If I had to spend three months out there, I would need to leave my six-month-old kittens and put my own work on hold.

Looking back, I don’t know what madness possessed me to agree to these conditions. I only knew that I couldn’t live any longer than the twenty-five years I’d already spent not knowing who killed my sister.

“Yes, Dr. Murray,” I said, “I would definitely be interested in participating in your drug trial.”