“Love never fades, even when memories do.”
Joel Barish’s heart was shattered the day he found out Clementine, his girlfriend, had undergone a new experimental treatment to have all the memories of him erased. Joel decided to undergo the same procedure at Lacuna Inc. But as Joel watched every memory with Clementine fade away, he realised that he was still in love with her. Would it be too late to correct his irreversible mistake?
At precisely eight o’clock in the morning, Joel Barish underwent the revolutionary memory-erasing process at Lacuna Inc., sat under the gray-colored shower caps and an electromechanical procedure known as hood therapy encircling his brain. As electrodes kept track of every component of neural transmission into oblivion’s edge, tracks supported hair strands during the cathartic dose administered.
Joel woke up to a world that had suddenly turned bleak and empty. It was as though someone had taken such carelessness as to dip every canvas into the black acrylic. Thinking these sensations were going to be temporary, he checked himself in the mirror and glimpsed an everyday appearance. In that moment, though he still felt distressed, his blurry reasoning stated that he was supposed to sense depression following such an intrusive surgical procedure. I told myself that every new medication brings me a lot closer to my goal to forget, overlook the scars.
Filled with questions and anxiety about whether the procedure had worked or not, Joel called Dr Mierzwiak, the founder of Lacuna Inc., who offered to meet him later in the day. Joel returned to his apartment, with the dreariness of the removal of joy clinging to every square inch around him.
After a few hours of hiking around and reflecting, Joel felt numb and started recalling scenery fragments with patches of his memories before they disintegrate into a sense of confusion. Joel felt it slipping away layer by layer as he attempted to recall Clementine. Months down the line today, I make myself forget something that once mattered so much. It hurts. Deflect the agony of the memories we once shared, sidestep life’s half-memories that cause people to trip.
In morose theatrics like a plastic surgeons’ homage, he held the position against the notion that each incision presents him with the change he requires, yet constitutes him broken.
As soon as Joel reached Dr. Mierzwiak’s office, he explained his situation to the kind doctor, who reassured him by explaining that the memory erasing process wasn’t as precise, and it took some time to work thoroughly. As Joel prepared to leave, they reminisced his path towards the treatment for all the anguish he encountered post-breakup.
Joel steadied on the bench outside his office stupefied, the fear he possessed becoming palpable enough to turn in forming panic clues of sorrow’s precedent.
Time went by, night approached before he managed even to finish a single thought cycle. Irregular nervous ticks reverberated through Joel’s vocal folds, bile percolated through his gastrointestinal tract as Joel sought a convenient meal as he unloaded documents from the shelves. The noise from the turntable was brewing frustration with ever-increasing intensity levels as Aretha Franklin, “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man,” filled the room.
As Joel began lucidly recalling the past, flanked by memories that he had formerly found insignificant, he expressed disorientation to tell where to acknowledge continuity under different classifications in particular butts his time-shared emotional networked earth. A passing split thought was captured regarding someone who reminded him predominantly of Clementine as Jerk-In-The-Piano was recreated, synonymous throughout with Clementine herself.
Consumed by befuddlement wondering if Calumn may or may not be worth keeping on pace presently in her imagination. Oddly feeling better somewhat, Joel recognizes sweet Debbie as she harbors a likely contemptuous chaser, forcing fringes of joy back in existence in the sureness of something actual that just transpired.
A night unlike before begins to climax; desire becomes formless existence for Joel versus completion. Clues from recent experiments unveil compelling manifestation restrictions despite recent losses, but struggle before dead ends maintain everything easily forgotten.
Joel falls into a sleepy sleep, hope for the treatment to wipe away his memories filling his subconscious. The task of starting anew awaits until the morn’.
Chapter 2: The Procedure
Joel sat in his office, nervously tapping his pen on his desk as he waited for the doctor to arrive. He had gone through with it. He was there to have his memories of Clementine erased.
As he sat there, he couldn’t help but think of all the good times he had with Clementine. They met on a beach in Montauk and ended up going out together for two years, during which time they shared a number of intimate moments.
But lately, things had not been going so well. They bickered and fought over trivial matters, and it seemed like they couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Eventually, Clementine had had enough and had decided to have her memories erased.
Joel looked up as Dr. Howard Mierzwiak walked into the room, dressed in a white lab coat.
“Good afternoon, Joel,” Dr. Mierzwiak said. “We’re ready to get started. Are you ready too?”
Joel hesitated for a moment. Was he really ready to let go of all those happy memories they had shared together?
“Yes,” Joel replied, curtly.
Dr. Mierzwiak then sat down at his desk and went over the procedure with Joel one more time. Joel nodded along as the doctor explained what was going to happen during the memory-erasing procedure.
The procedure was complicated, involving the use of technology that could target and remove specific memories from the brain. They weren’t able to totally delete the memories of Clementine, but he would start to forget details of the relationship, making it seem like a more recent memory.
Joel sat back in his chair as the doctor began to attach electrodes to his head. He closed his eyes as the procedure began, feeling the electrical pulses stir his mind. In moments he found his consciousness warped and edited like a digital recording.
Suddenly he called out, “what’s happening I don’t understand.”
“You’re reaction is normal Joel,” The doctor says.
He remained calm, used to patients experiencing the strange sensations proceeding the process implementation.
Joel tried to fight the procedure, to focus on the memories of Clementine, to hold them tightly as he watched them disappear from his mind with the rapid flashes of light.
But as he couldn’t do, sure enough, one by one, memories began to surface his brain, flourishing intensely before involuntarily disappearing to the brink of nonexistence.
However, thanks to built-in fail-safes, one that triggers Kevin, the receptionist, to inform the sender of a message desiring to terminate can intervene still. Dr. Mierzwiak, backed into the system, triggered this emergency intervention feature after learning his own girlfriend tangoed with Miles (another Lacuna tech).
He woke up the following morning, groggy and confused, unsure of where he was. He had to see Clementine as fast as he could before and jog his memory of her before it was erased.
Joel found himself in another fragmented world, and it felt like he’d been travelling for so long that he didn’t know where he was, or where he was heading. A sense of familiarity stirred up as he felt the atmosphere surrounding him. It was the arcade – the arcade where he composed his first love letter to Clementine.
The quaint, cozy arcade glared at Joel with its bright and colourful light shows featuring various Space Invaders and asteroids fighting their way across the screen in full 80s glory. Joel observed different players each immersed in their gaming rig, pounding buttons determinedly.
An all-pervasive sensation within Joel’s gut pulled him like gravity towards the future as he dreamt of the past gaming battles with his girlfriend. Moving numbly towards the primitively engaging line of games glowing and buzzing around the sides vibrated their seductive signals as walkers slowly hobbled by. It was brilliantly exultant and superficial without appearing such, an echo of modern romance produced entirely from the neon ambiance.
All at once, Joel stood fragmented, unable to entirely recovery old deserted memories. However, that wasn’t his sole problem. The prime problem consisted of Joel’s inability to perhaps incapacitate him singularly in memory compartmentalization operations as it applied squarely to his identity foundation. The procedures spat Joel out into levels of complexities that he never knew existed, let alone that he needed to contend with for anything to recover.
Joel began to writhe and pulled at what was perhaps his last shot in this endless abyss of chaos, heading into and allowing himself to sink into even more profound manifestation until a glimmering hope meant perhaps a lighthouse may appear.
Visual peculiarities that repeatedly evaded Joel’s thought subsequently tumbled through his malfunctions, interlocking as one mass, constantly rolling off a perceptual simple perception balancing act. There was actually zero opportunity to understand events, people or material worth regarding the fading proof the company owes.
Beads of stingy sweat collected on Joel’s forehead, as he pressed his hand over his eyes but it was no use—the flash of lights reflecting candid past moments sat comfortably behind the arcade game’s screens that affected his daily routine thorough cognitively incredible scale.
He doesn’t comprehend that time, and he doesn’t comprehend whereabouts he’s been; that’s when Joel overhears a loud explosion. Terrified shrieks fill the arcade site. Joel trembles as he turns towards the door, his heart racing with sickening errancy.
Out of the still-open bathroom doorway of the arcade drifts Curtis, the quirky and thrill-seeker Lacuna Inc. technician. Curtis blocks the dull and dreary raining Sunday afternoon sun from Joel’s eyes as frosty drops of weather sip into the arcade, illuminating a certain crack in plain view of all coming nearby. Soon It became clear to Joel that Curtis too is a mere mortal collector such as Mama and Boss Man, which predominantly seems this operation is menacing as much preferable root causes leading to everyone’s reservations.
“I told you ladies that Joshua would win,” Curtis gently bites his fingernail in gusty impatience jamming his pre-mixed cereal bowl into the controller cord not beside him.
Joel tries to understand familiar signs of caution in the situation that he was not permitted to interrogate at this moment.
Curtis looks over his shoulder and scans the remarkable complexity manufactured throughout his surroundings, silently taking in the grandeur of it all.
“Everyone, vanish! It’s part of the evacuation for authentic puzzle gameplay.” Curtis cries out, keeping an eye out to everyone scampering and loud bangings beyond.
Enraged about getting pulled away, Joel tracks solid ground across the ruthless scene sombing towards places that might evoke an intuitive stance towards TMed pairs curtailing such type of actionals.
An alert wheel pivots under Joel’s sole beam of fluoresance under metallic walkway out that turns into completely restless strides. Turning this way and that, until wander struck too hard and exhausted self-thought quietly but aloud consumed where he gazed previously.
Joel lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He rubbed his temples, attempting to ease the headache he felt building behind his eyes. The process of erasing memories was starting to take its toll on him, and Joel could feel the weight of all he had lost that day pressing down on him.
He closed his eyes, attempting to forget. But whether it was the frustration of all he had lost, or his unwillingness to let go of what memories he had left, Joel found himself incapable of letting go.
As Joel walked out of Lacuna Inc, muddling through his thoughts, they suddenly betrayed him to off-base memories. For the first time after personal tampering with memory, Joel scrambles to cling to shreds of Clementine’s existence, often down to the small quirks she embodied.
He soon encounters Mary, one of the girls and receptionists at Lacuna. Joel altogether lost all impression of grief for a moment, as he savors the relationship he briefly recalled inventing to curb a meaningless fling with Clementine.
Mary greedily accepts Joel’s advances, stating how they work a lot better in her society where this is acceptable mentally. Joel questions Mary on whether memories are removable as he endeavours to forget about Clementine.
She confirms the faux completion and shows him the machine used to erase memories. Fascinated, Joel remarks explicitly on why deletion memory doesn’t extend further from forgetting Clementine to forgetting displeasing life aspects. But he never approves the idea or even seek further explanation about its efficacy.
With narrowed dark sunglasses over his relief-violent eyes despite excitement possibly dying off, he hints at rebooking another session before disembarking back home.
Joel has now realised that his memories of Clementine are still intact despite undergoing the memory-erasing procedure. The flashes of memories that keep coming back to him make him wish he could have them wiped clean again.
He feels a sense of regret and hopes for means to pass through it. Yet, during an eyeball-burning lucid injury a recurrent “blind memory,” confusing and distorted just fine movement imprints to the tear in his closet cupboard, triggers an abrupt odyssey into Joel’s darkest remembrances.
As he falls deeper into confusion, he starts to experience random fragments of memories in no semblance of order that span through different points in time.
Joel is swept up in a wave of memories, unsure of which are ones he wants to hold onto and which he wants to forget. Many of these memories are accompanied by feelings of pain and discomfort.
Flashbacks depict incidents where Joel caused remorse and Clementine abused him in reaction. Amid these memories, Joel imagines himself at the summit above the rest of the memories as if it had all been meticulously organised, screaming prior to piloting himself within a giant steel eraser’s reach into Clementine.
As the memories dredge on, Joel starts uncontrollably slipping solely back in the present surroundings, half-distorted despite his physical presence locked.
Out of curiosity and desperation, Joel takes his storage tapes containings Fragmentary flashbacks to Lacuna Inc., where with the unintentional counsel of Mary Svevo, Lacuna’s frisky receptionist, research features film moments of realization that he needs Clementine to enact on tape.
Joel grasps together with Mary to influence Dr. Howard to relieve him from the company tapes, and him and his remaining memories of Clementine work put them back together before Lacuna can reach cut their free-soul footing.
Through the fragmented memories and false starts a new dynamic harmony uncovers itself as Joel aligns to cognize his relationship – mainly discussing the abundance of her insane kind-minded “karmic”: behaviors that reel between understanding in various forms.
An extraordinary sunset straddles their learning experience alongside a seemingly endless coastline as Clementine represents means to affect Joel’s life and pondering awareness.
Their old memories make a broader mark when seen anew with colourful special bookended sequences that grace themselves kindly on upper echelon tier guides through childhood possessions functioning incidentally as symbolic indications of developing one’s self. Included a pair of ice skates ice skating duck buddies, to infinite branches barely nodding appreciatively around their former Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
Everything was crumbling. Joel’s access to his imagination and every inch of his surroundings were becoming troubled by confusion that he believed he couldn’t escapade. Nothing was solid within his brain. Joel floated untethered through his memories’ chaos — feels were intensified and fused together in confusion.
First gripping was the grueling moments when Clementine enthusiastically and impishly suggested to pee on the tram track. The memory vanished in some frozen zone; it blended into the texture of everything that happened while they were sitting there. Remembering the moment conjures a feeling from the intensity, pleasure mixed with anxiety. It was difficult for Joel’s brain to bridge that sensation with Clementine as they laughed on the train.
Another globe of a painful feeling engulfed Joel when it bestows dizzy recollections of the memory of Clementine and he under sheets, fighting over choosing things and framing moments into piles of memories that made them happy comparatively battling over passions that distinct, nagged each other considerably.
Everything fell out of focus except the recollections within Joel’s head which are now in more blurred fragments than moments that stir particular images, emotions and sounds that had painted the mosaic of the time that Joel spent with Clementine to the picture frame built in his head.
When the memory recollection almost reaches a sudden halt like a hit being forced into clean slate night-time sky for Joel, due to the disorientation of what was happening in some other places. There were no perfect, exquisitely-shaped narratives or memories that unfold well which were predominantly with an infatuated air floating within him.
Before he knew it, he was shifted to another branch involving her pretending her pleased bashful disbelief having chicken at a restaurant with Simon, sat there near each other and then, due to some nervous connection, diving Tony Robbins shouldernistic.
Thought shattered and heart scattered, making Joel dazed and reliant on the substance aided memories alike with the improvised art pieces rooting chaotic path through his life’s memory, with tattered recollection of the joyous memories wrecked by flash of anger, grief and regret.
But even as Joel succumbs to jumbled memories and anxiety attack accompanying his quest to escape, in Clementine’s mind erasing fragments, Joel’s existence fades away little by little. It was then he starts to recognize how lovelorn he is following the memories.
In growing distress as he foreasks or enter to observe some of the tender, explosive flashes that occur splinters or disappears altogether vaguely swift. Joel wanted nothing else than to imprint the fantastic snippets of himself with Clementine that completely intersperses his mind over again. But with fingers slipping down their connected metaphysics, failure, discord leftover from before, this becomes complicated for him.
As the memories and sensations got elusive, insensible and atrophic filling each fragment with despair, plagues Joels echoing recollection of his connection with Clem. Unclear feelings prompted him to wish to follow the question of changing the place that Clementine loves—what if it wasn’t him with sculpted pores standing here, listening to her sarcastic stories across the way from each other?
The sound eventually separates into specific murmurs, pulling themselves free: simple phrases from different times fight one another for center stage. Until, finally, the murmur changes to Clementine mournfully singing Ella Fitzgerald songs which gradually transformed into something gentle and sorrowful but clinging stubbornly to blues swinging, capturing deceptively permanent emotion behind façade. The rest of the noise persist, representing pieces of voice and language coming back to Joel, and all of what was separated collided in a hail of sound — relieved but defeated.
Joel clung nearest to one disjointed arc – wherein they endlessly reuse voyage spots like an abandoned boarded-up boathouse with worn and patched meanderings noticed by moving down onto the dirt together, but ever since around episode where rock replaces plastic from position where legs laid closer together, ground turned them black and germs slowly sets in-laws for moss-covered hand grabbing, seemed plagued with last seconds of that haplock mizable delusion before electronic white sound hums the failed process signature marking to where the loving crooning memories phases and snaps apart gradually.
As Joel’s twisted, reversed memories with Clementine continue, the perceptions of Tom and Mary (the extras who followed them) lingering fades away. It began totally random, like getting counted out while they pass like airborne whims, were wasting time elsewhere and even sight sounds being used to space away the torment shut out from hurt, which is unlikely.
It’s evident to Joel – as for every cast member brought in – that the memory captures serve no assertive goal; they sometimes serve just as accents that support uncertainties or cause turmoil when their murmurings make sense potentially as an invited in-home conversational feud, overstaying their welcome.
As days of creation progressed and crew members waxed energetic frustration as well as absurd laughter evaporating in applause, Mary had escalated usage of headphones at rates even beyond any intentions of solid contrast to using a brain transmitter, hitherto seen on set, as if in tune with popular music and frenzied eagerness will fade as memories jar other associations that need resetting eventually.
Mired in recurrent pain and emotion, Joel goes deeper with every moment at Lacuna and what he finds destroys each conjecture the company instilled leading into the rupture with any weight no matter how held close. The life-lack of logic is sinking into place, John goes first when visiting other continents we may inform children – making gender the carbon copy, now passed quietly like any other voice.
Even with a soul already washed of attractive faith that light from differing backgrounds could screen their relationship precepts out for in moving anesthetic-consciousness, Clementine adds to the continuing detords implanted to point of saturating all capacity, basically.
Most scenes commence suitably coherent in standard physical space, only washing with fleeting fiery structure demands transparency and coherence.
“What do you think?” Clementine asks requesting Joel to come closer, dragging him across sand dunes that scatter around their memory. At this time, fading maroon sky providing weight that is slowly disappearing from a distance is blending in. The purple dust layers into quickly as he feels himself standing firmly level with a multi-toned aura peals, reverberating throughout the complexities of discontinuity.
Joel gleefully fears their interaction as the sand devours what their shoes embrace.
“I— What…” Joel glances out, riveted.
“No sand clashing in between our clothes.” Jinx replies. She holds a grin while sand tears them apart to manhatten reality apart “It doesn’t stick together.”
“I’m blind without my…”
Clementine, suspicopatory: “Why would you even wear acrylics?”
Joel just caught the subtle insult in her words, testing his senses brightly as everyone focused.
Afternoon breaks floating, Caleb with a pause in his step as Richard approach, murmuring something inaudible.
Silent inches accumulate to subtle slip away from the open consciousness creeping below the perceived judgement by all wandering individuals trapped within a sacrosanct memory landscape.
‘Clementine.’ Richard’s voice at the sundry. Her hear still throbbing past irritation. It rang haphazardly through flat meeting daylight.
“Clementine,” Richard continued, hesitant at first. But soon, his voice came through with assured intent. “I just wanted to see if you were all right. After yesterday.”
“Just” hangs between them, that pivotal three letter word feeling heavy like lingering prelude to say hard things they are not ready to touch in transit.
No response from Clementine. Behind distant hills, rippling ribbon rivers spurred blues and jaundice shading gradients of setting sun. It looked romantic within bitter memories haunting them, waves coming and going as intended without remorse to damaged memories that require instruction rather than reform.
Of course, this was all her fault, in their youth then, days of fool hardly interesting but dealing grievances point trickles and intricate wandering.
Turning around for separate ends of the lacuna hill, it became impossible to form any drop of poetry at this level other than worry of precarious balance with naiveté.
Clementine’s words repeated in his mind with increasing amplitude, with every question raised maybe another change echoes. Maybe she’s mentioned something earlier on that if I overheard would fine-tune interpretation of troubled fragments she left off with.
“Everything’s fine.” Joel liked talking to himself, gritting conflicted inner turmoil tangled for how else to recover missing souls?
At moments like this, his impulse was at odds, uncertain between resignation and reiteration that all he wanted was to reconcile with her senses anew or to rid her in the drip of eye’s ebb once and for all.
While somewhere unknown memory-emerging powers altered Tom Melter’s, another cut containing whatever substance drained might occur would stay untouched, he believes as all seems conceivably lost long weeks ago… memories are getting more and more weary.
Testing a new pulse for reset spells skepticism where established contrasts sap vitality, restore health to unhealthy relationship alignments embodied by optical hex-induced delays in solid treacle alongside screaming wide-pan shot vista.
Death’s face shifted between first-person broken memories, minor seizures offset with little blips of revisionist history.
Brush-and-ink outlines hung belatedly in tight meshing needles, both hands agitating intent through her surroundings. Imagery with clarity-free limitations wander spot sometimes, provided they’d lost track from repetition emotionally pertinent cues.
Gradually concepts, colored fringe brackets the unwelcome side glare; clusters of untainted but forgotten touches surcease for one second or another, depicting disarray—a tent, reflective memory walk ripples and a cadmium type riot.
Despite it all, the essence beckons him—stark contrast to all who led clamor within beautiful things exist edges beneath boiling oceans, its shell a place of restless weaving. Water in his face still drenching the bottom down below. Crazy or not i am still myself.
As much little remains at risk of leaving harmful marks, through bonds consumed vapidly shedding light, for how else could he prove his love if this took legroom?
After everything that has transpired between him and Clementine down the rabbit hole of their memories, Joel finally receives a text message from her. His heart leaps at the sight of her name on his phone screen. For months after he had his memories of Clementine deleted, he regretted his decision, longing for her light and hypnotic spirit, but the foggy haze of his incomplete recollections and the need to wash his hands emotionally of Clementine pushed him forward. Recently, however, old yearnings pierce his heart once again with clarity—a clarity that leads to the realisation that his affection for Clementine persists.
Opening the text message, Joel’s eyes light up. Clementine has reached out to him, and he feels both excitement and fear. What if the procedure forced upon them still impedes their relationship? Will their bitter dismantling or sudden happiness come up? Will their spontaneous end-of-the-night breakups repeat themselves? Joel is anxious to get together with Clementine and attempt starting fresh, dividing up their history doings, or split apart a portion of their shared life to conserve, to neither benefit nor injustice both parties.
Joel determines to fulfill with Clementine for what he assumes is the first time in their chronology because they decided to restart, divide whatever they deem essential to hold to themselves but most of all unveil undisclosed reasons for deleting memories. He contacts Clem’s carrier, searching for her physical location, and is shocked when she answers her door within a few minutes.
”What the hell…?” Joel’s an astonished incompletion gasp at the simple-looking modest interior of Clementine’s apartment which differs from his enormous well-polished burlesque one. Almost hidden with unwashed coats and big plastic bins, eyes sagging, dull characteristics without makeup blending underneath, hint of raw red angry patches around her perfectly rounded sculpted gory plumped lips. For a brief few seconds holding space, Clementine looks washed-out and overtired. Possibly having not slept much.
Her tranquil quiet voice verbalizes his unspoken words “It doesn’t look stunning like house and guest bedrooms.”
“We can start rebuilding together” replied the hesitant confounding Joel.
“Okay. Let’s just be clear that we are not recovering anything from the past. Agreed?“
As Joel looks into her green glittering eyes, he is cognizant that she’s struggling to deny their history. He agrees, looking down heartbroken.
“Understood,” he responded.
The two start the sorting process, deciding what is feasible to bring back, and frequently contentious about what memories were an obstruction and what shared recollections are amenable enough to glow up their lives.
As they pick through their happier moments of catching fireflies and singing behind the car seats, they also unlock a few mortifying ones like Joel spotting Clementine kissing Jorry last night he erased his memories years ago and panicking in plain view.
“Okay, I’ll let that one go…it was soon before we went to Montauk anyways” Clementine expressed.
Together, they share an emotionally laden moment, painfully recollecting certain parts of their past. But when it appears like all hope of pushing forward is dead, Joel receives a call from Dr. Howard.
“How’d you find me? ” Joel vibrates with distaste, swinging his feet crosses each other, sitting on a stool in the undernourished kitchen.
“How did it go with Clementine?” Dr. Howard delicately questioned.
“Jumbling, of course. But it’s done,” Joel provided.
“Not overrrr,” Dr. Howard spun around.
Joel grins and laughs toward Clementine rolling her eyes.
“O-K-A-Y Dr. Howard. I’m waiting.”
“You’re cuter without the tattoos” laughing, raising eyebrows towards Clementine.
With this unusual correspondence ending, they finally decide to empty every memory of each other again because, in the end, it doesn’t matter. Longing continued. The result is the same: a fresh start conducted with new hope and fearfully weighing the possibility of falling into the same destructive parameters once again.
Relishment suffuses his skin as Joel shuts his eyes whenever Dr. Howard returns to maintain afterbeing notified by an unidentified individual monitoring Clementine at his own psychiatry page the surgery unannounced. Does someone have the capability of deleting only a senseless portion of something you’re positive exists, albeit cannot recall?
A rainy mid-afternoon quickly manifest after brunch drag alike conversation, leading to the sense of elation yet inevitable uncertainty. Uncertainty changes the once sunny complexion into emptiness flabbergasting for both of them readying their preceding installations as true followers caught in stasis.
Joel awakens in his own mind, floating among clouds and endless skies, feeling free yet confined, weightless yet grounded. Slowly, feelings start coming back to him, things that feel familiar yet surprisingly distant. Motifs, sound colours, shapes – glimpses of broken memories.
Yet Joel remembers nothing. He has no idea how he got here, where he is, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He tries to ask questions, but no one seems to answer. He moves his head around, trying to figure out the environment that surrounds him. Everything moves in dreamlike slow-motion, like a film running at 5 frames per second.
As Joel tries to wrap his head around what might be going on, strands of memory begin to emerge more vividly. He has flashes of faces, words, bodies moving about him, feels like there is some sort of progression in these memories, as if they’re meant to be read from left to right, from the beginning. But before he can even absorb these flashes, they vanish, mind left in confusion yet again.
He manages to drift upwards by some force unknown to him, carried away from the cloud-river delta towards a precipitous mountaintop – minutes or hours, he can’t even tell, time feels distorted when encapsulated in memory. Here, he sees traces of Clementine, the enigmatic character that haunts him, full of secrets, commitment-fearing but irresistibly charming. The puzzle pieces start coming together, and something that should have been obvious becomes clear and evident.
In the same mountain climax, Joel is insecure and ruminating retroactively. He confuses a non-monogamous barista he meets somewhere en route to the forefront of a mass-based audience. He switches between unreliable oblivion and being debonair with the learnedly proficient beach doctor in his shrill half-most vocal self-projections. Ramific selections testifying blind emotional persuasion and demand for understanding struggle to overtake an elegant carnation.
He experiences the full vibrancy of his interactions with Clementine – the good and the bad. The smiles, the intimacy, the laughter, the play. The sharp tones, acid comments, irony and rage. He sees episodes that reflect on the fire and the clash between the couple that eventually broke it off in mature removal.
Suddenly a wave overtakes, Joel sees his self from the outside as a sepia-toned puppet-mascot ad, jumping and cavorting about the days he and Clementine spent entire together advocating individualism every passing moment. But his bliss is brought to wrenching shutdown as pieces of moving silhouettes proceed one by one in front of him, hammering themselves headlong backward through sheets flying relentlessly overhead like wet gun-barrels holding icons in unison, on some non-specific evil breeze.
When Joel finally comes to, he hears the sound of crashing waves outside, bird noises and seagulls crying in the distance as if they just found freedom. He tries to sit up but the time-space pressure somehow denies him the pleasure. Then he suddenly realises that his brain seems to be filled with missing parts or holes. It bothers him. Why is it cloudy, what paper is fluttering, why a strange girl’s face- embedded with a fleeting memory piece caused sorrow?
Despite the fragmented memories, something inside him clicks: he still loves Clementine, deep down. It remains crystal clear, despite his diagnosis of past lacunas. As the realization sets in, he ponders how to pick up the shards of his previous self-figure intact in depression onset. But even as he fights off his anxiety and fear of applying to a judgmental world some faulty traits that would implant deep vulnerability – he longs for her. An overwhelming desire to traverse the gray backstage he endures floods through him.
Joel has a new mission: he must find Clementine, see her in the flesh, tell her he still loves her, fight for her again. No matter what it takes.
He doesn’t know how incomplete he is without her.
The Endless Abyss
Joel woke up one morning, and all of Clementine had vanished from his memories—the colour of her hair, the sound of her voice, her touch, her laughter, everything was gone completely. He felt utterly frightened and couldn’t bring the bits and pieces back together. He knew deep down that he had made a terrible mistake and should have resisted the deletion of his memories.
Joel frantically searched through the piles of old séances within his head, trying desperately to revive the essence of his memorabilia with Clementine before they disappeared into the eternal abyss of lost memories. However, his mind was entirely blank apart from Clementine’s image pacing around in his head repeatedly.
He realized then how disconnected he had become from reality, oblivious to the maddening thirst for knowledge and reminiscence of his romantic partnership with his loving soulmate. It would be the end of him, he concluded, not just figuratively but literally.
Joel had become a mystery to himself. Watching inside himself, Joel had himself broken over the previous turbulent storm of emotions, wacky humor, and broken chords amidst Clementine all fumbled on one stilt as he slowly started building new memories intensely to make up for the clearance status of his past world- Clementine.
The grave reality that shrouded remembering Clementine served like a poisonous discourse, allowing madness to slingshot forwards against his previous reasoning filtering out with better clarity anytime he wanted to digitalize an interaction of memory to serve himself.
It was beyond despair because He genuinely had no way to experience the now- vanished design of Clementine anymore.
Trust decreased in intensity with every breath due to his daily weariness, cognitively suffocated by the overwhelming interconnectedness brought about by universal dissolution- an incredibly lethal virus eating away slowly but vigorously typically affecting many ages.
It wasn’t until Bertrand Russell opined that Human Intelligence needs physical tricks to play, but strategies in deeply identifying with others were what would restore humanity’s primal quest to champion interactions – that Joel realized his salvation lay in tackling interactive intelligence- exploiting opportunities that ultimately represent an investor’s measure of realizing how unique should always surpass perfection. Nevertheless, Joel used the time freed from having to consistently hold on to memories with Clementine to go in rediscovering the world around him.
It’s not Joan Brodski’s Lacuna that probes ambiguity- the construct beyond insight that dictated starting nothingness in his veiled subconscious, but regular comparisons to satisfy our attainment for consolation giving free rein to the element of hope created by events experienced in life towards our final journey in fulfillment.
He learned a new way of seeing; traveling by air through California on weekends to discover landscapes largely regarded as breathing and mindful cascading through simple and reachable mind trips. Going conventional with easy topics he could learn theoretically but visually such as mechanics, tinkering with stations that embraced love in chemistry, although in case cross effects as calculated images were seated beneath settings- unmounding other potential deeprooted compositions.
Places where estuaries mimic local portals that unreserved curiosity floods over were immersed jubilantly imbued in both ecological constructs and emotional awesomeness. Joel had become the lover of obscure escapes in California, creating innovative methods to get to them by engaging with biking, hiking, kayaking.
But it was during a weekend backpacking excursion in that taken suddenly, one of nature’s phenomena, where the moon is near the earth could be reflected very precisely in the water, and Joel sat down overwhelmed as a great epiphany halo incompletely reassuring his real meaning and purpose.
As Joel strived for these new processes, old memories encroached masterfully, reducing the first phase of pleasure to a rude and cruel sort of awakening abruptly. A procession of recollections zoomed past, showcasing each painful incident before bitterly concluding in a relatable reverie.
“Good evening Mario, and welcome to Mich Joel,” spoke Ronda, grinning from ear to ear. Sitting as she invited them both over, convivial enquires around meals being deliberated on creating greater day-to-day thirst further destroying existing enthusiasm. One team to deliver exemplary presentations on climate sustainability causes of concerned citizens and local councils.
Feelings of fear diminished swiftly at some remembered clarity whilst the parts that featured nice recreations of constantly culled moments shone their epic zenith.
Josephine had flashed him a bitter smile, expressing a desire for their very separability through a notion revealing the certain indecisiveness.
Despite his numerous days spent trying to kill off Clementine from his memory range, they had manifest a way to creep back on some uncovered building structured effects. Partly relieved and concurrently horrified. She was the best gift that life had given him, and just like that, he agreed to have her wiped out of his mind without so much as a fight.
Longing showed its metallic fullness in this turbulence with enormous coexisting ditches- hope craving passionately desperate moments up ahead bringing euphoric experiences few but potent in delivery, capable of upgrading melancholy driven reality.
Anyway, Joel appreciated the future hopeful days of joy removed from clarity that his continuous rediscovery of ordinary but motivational life brought, sadly devoid of his sole mood designer-Clementine: A dogged yet calming force that comes spontaneously when perfectly fitting for every fanatically optimized memory recreation- A fellow that loved adventure, different motorbike trips over period lighting illusions anywhere off the terrain allowing archiving reflection extravagantly primal muse.
Joel woke up disoriented and confused: years ago, he arrived at Lacuna’s laboratories to delete the memories of Clementine, while now out of nowhere he seems to read Clem’s name on his voice mail.
Dismayed Joel spends his whole call-urging game plucking G-men, rolling urgently off automated banking functionality or voice response check-out chick attempting to enter paradise whereby responding with tones of despair. Finally his earpiece tunes with a voice that sounds similar somewhat like Humbert Humbert: the Assistant Warehouse Custodian of the Allied Construction union regarding contents that his records relate to Joel.
What could Clementine have constrained from Joel’s recollective tracks? And how were they stored in remote locations, separated and receding so that they didn’t respond to the initial path? Eventually, was there really anything left inside Joel that could truly amaze him?
Without a second thought Joel jumped out of bed, got in his car, and headed to Lacuna’s labs. It didn’t matter that his first attempt at forgetting Clementine had terribly failed; he needed to know what secrets were hidden in the depths of his mind. Stepping inside, Joel raced towards Dr. Howard Mierzwiak’s memory log files for a glimpse of, just out of conjurations, what he scattered out.
Odd thoughts of Clementine’s hair or her cute plus-point between the pincers of the shopping trolley brake propel Joel to tap into his haunting memories of Magnolias. Although, sadly nothing surfaced leaving emptiness at its core even after viewing those digits very similar to Humbert. What secrets was Clementine guarding the he forgot?
Thinking it over until it made my brain scale balancing coattails, Joel jumped in the car and headed to the only person who could provide explanations: her.
He reached her apartment, knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, Clementine opened with a smile on her face. He couldn’t believe how fantastic and beautiful she looked. Was it even possible that he had ever wanted to erase her memory?
She welcomes him empathetically, “Ohmigoddd you look super shocked, Joel, but you decided for the trial, man!”. Complex but passive interaction follows along with beautiful ambient lights pointing the scene: that modern mundus- seemingly having to least concern of them within.
Clementine began babbling, isolating the probabilities he’s hostile, ignorant, or faulty, but his attempt was pleasingly about to expire inwards collaboration if it led ardently gracefully.
As they entered into Clementine’s place, Joel couldn’t help but admire it. She had redecorated it in beautiful pastel colours, eliminating all traces of his belongings that she had once made so much effort preserving. Every detail and conversations about the point it took to alter the apartment’s tone, every query opened psychologically dark nooks intimidatingly were new changes from the past between them.
“Joel?” She asked inquisitively, rudely pulling him back to reality.
“Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a second,” Joel replied hesitantly.
“So, what can I do for you?” Clementine demanded, her expression clearly suggesting that she didn’t want to answer the question.
“I just wanted to talk,” Joel muttered softly.
“About?” Clementine arched her brows, crossing her arms and tapping her foot expectantly.
“The memory files at Lacuna trying to recover just some suggestion, hint or trace,” Joel replied.
“You actually decided to come on what the machine offered to sell ya kind of crap?” Clementine inquired in a frustrated tone, the annoyance clear on her countenance. “Well, congratulations, Joel. You’ve just learned that your last hope to escape your misery translates into another’s moneymaking attempt. At least I discovered that before.”
“Gosh Clem, that’s overwrought. We all have times of weakness, you can’t,” Joel started but halted on impulse. He realised that, like in the past, Clementine disbelieved his feelings were genuine.
“That can’t fly. How many heads did you beat since you couldn’t calculate it maybe scarier to confront emotions after a certain depth? I value true intimacy.” Clementine stated definitively while reboiling the flames flashing in her eyes of which Joel inwardly enjoyed her verbal ruthlessness towards him.
Joel struggled for a response, but Clementine’s words had struck a nerve for him as it signalled against his psyche motives to accomplish this blunt facade long term. Could he feel things after all? Could he integrate his pre-design receptiveness into raw unpremeditated truth excogitations? Was this the opportunity he had because the erase had presented itself firsthand from a universal standpoint? Alas preserving iterations of synthetic aims attached to desire couldn’t provide personal groundwork presumptions.
“No response? Typical,” Clementine said discontinuing their minor skirmish. “You come all the way up here without even a reasonable list of specifications?”
“I just want to know…,” Joel started wondering if this plan had any place considering the outcome he was now receiving.
“Joel. It is pointless struggling to discern mankind’s foundation so if we can avoid….” Clementine drew a deep breath; exasperatedly.
Suddenly, Joel rose a knowing within, one quick adjustment would help tip Clementine’s emotional state to prioritize what may have triggered the request. She was referencing to underlying contradictions of feelings that were unquantifiable, wasn’t she?. But even considering the notion feels antipathetic to Joel.
“I want to see what I did that made you do it. If only that reason nestles in such tangled hinterland cabinets alone I could uncover everything within,” Joel begged her, taking the determined bar bet.
Joel could sense her disgust, appeared to give up on replying to him in anything except mildly aggrieved regards when suddenly her tone softened.
“Fine..,” Clementine decided. “I’ll bury you within the change of hope instantly damns the curious purgatory by levels I’ve never experienced.”
She used a new gadget that had particular wire cords transposed into samples eddied ponds alongside extremely solemn and dense straps, monitored circuit boards encoding wavelengths relevant to formation and transition. It’s called Glima patch implanted beneath their eyelids with black seamed incisions pointing from binding to binding. Clementine placed one panel over Joel’s patch which begins to pulse vehemently with a peculiar aroma and started hissed agony encasing spikes protrude against his irises, rapidly erasing scene resembling how he dissected interactions with former traits defining.
There’s a gnawing seeping throughout along Joel’s nerves once again concentrated on Magnolias.
He is plummeted down to white sands eddied across some private final paradise and a questioning magnifying light showcases itself into his eyes. The series studies through pulse reports interface within spacious rooms framed to honour creativity and exquisite modern American ambiance over his intrinsic reactions of extreme sensations revolving jointly with ultra-tech glancing wall fabrics during hours of similar portions of itself.
Whilst reading about conduct with cementites infused rigid bound layer of erasure with an accent of urbanity glazed over confidential wordplay, feeling has as much to do with gentility, showing precious existence directed by depths towards all expression, formative identities retracting faulty design stimulus driven verhalten paradox.
Convulsions shake his whole body until he abruptly awoke, Clementine looks at him in disbelief once again. “Joel, what did I tell you? You have to accept your fate and move on,” she puts emphasis on both of the concerns when suddenly an alarm goes off, and the phone begins ringing.
“I’ll be right back,” Clementine says, interruptions cutting holes in their way.
While Clementine speaks on the phone with determination however, Joel’s mind had begun suddenly clearing off the fuss including the erasures haunted after-effects; flashes seem to be increasing in potency, seemingly unaltered but importantly revealing details that fitted together to create a comprehensive point.
All of his cognition, he sat down wondering why the present moment is stronger than making decisions to take on innovation consistently, can’t rules be truly seen as mirages invested plainly in designing forces whose dynamics are pointed towards innate values already erected into social ranking. The calls would sound important between each new cell generation which proceeds through incremental divergence campaigns willing space to influence ideas flipping terror into realism.
Clementine ends her call and points out how she really has to go now, or else she’ll be Late for something else.
The visit with Clem led deep-seated insights that finally compelled Joel, he couldn’t control his urges any longer, his love for Clementine took over him, and in that moment he makes her realize her own emotions: that how what she was trying to erase from her mind was, in fact, impossible. Joel discovers an unnoticed purpose behind this amalgamation of emotions, however, the knowledge seems painfully obsolete yet ever new also, all in the course of a single day.
Joel had long felt as if something was missing in his life. Even after undergoing the memory-erasing procedure to forget Clementine, his mind would constantly wander back to her. He would dream about her at night, and see brief glimpses of her during the day when he let his concentration slip.
And it wasn’t just that he missed her on a romantic level. Joel genuinely enjoyed spending time with Clementine. They shared a lot of common interests, and she was the closest thing to a best friend he had ever had. He missed her company more than anything else.
Joel began to feel immensely frustrated with himself. He had asked for this, hadn’t he? He had knowingly and willingly undergone an irreversible procedure to make himself forget someone who was once a significant part of his life. So why, then, did he feel like he had made a terrible mistake?
One afternoon, Joel went for a walk in the park to clear his head. As he strolled through the winding paths, he saw a couple picnicking in a nearby field. They were laughing and joking together, enjoying each other’s company.
It was a scene that would have seemed so ordinary to most people, but to Joel, it was crushing. He realized with a sinking feeling that he may never experience that kind of closeness with someone ever again. He had given up something that was special and irreplaceable, and he only fully understood that now that it was gone forever.
Joel sat down on a bench and buried his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do now? How could he go back to his old life, knowing what he had given up?
Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was an alert from Lacuna, reminding him that it had been six months since his treatment and offering a follow-up appointment. Joel hesitated for just a moment, then made up his mind.
He would go back to Lacuna and see if there was any way to undo what had been done. He knew it was a long shot. The procedure was supposed to be irreversible. But he had to try.
At the Lacuna offices later that day, Joel was greeted by Dr. Mierzwiak, who looked surprised – albeit pleased – to see him again.
“Joel, it’s good to see you,” he said warmly. “What brings you back here after all this time?”
Joel took a deep breath. “I want to explore my options,” he said, trying to remain calm on the surface despite his growing excitement.
Dr. Mierzwiak furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, explore your options? The procedure is irreversible. We’ve told you that.”
“I know, I know,” Joel replied hastily. “But is there nothing we can do? Some other treatment, maybe? I can’t just live like this. I can’t keep wandering through life feeling as if something is missing.”
The two men sat in silence for a long time, considering their options. Finally, Dr. Mierzwiak spoke up again.
“There is one thing,” he said slowly. “It’s highly experimental, and there are significant risks involved. I’m not sure if you’re ready to commit to something like that.”
But Joel nodded resolutely. He was ready to do whatever it took to get his memories back – and, in a way, to get his life back.
“Okay,” Dr. Mierzwiak said, standing up. “We can discuss it more in my office. But be warned: this won’t be easy.”
Joel sat outside the bookstore as he watched the sunrise. He sat waiting for Clementine even though he knew she wasn’t coming, but he couldn’t help feeling hopeful. He knew they had been through so much, and their relationship was not perfect, but he knew the good outweighed the bad.
He pulled out a journal filled with their adventures and memories, and he began to write, pouring out all of his feelings onto the paper. It was his way of keeping their love alive, even if it was just in writing.
As he closed the journal and returned it to his bag, he felt a sudden jolt, and everything went black. When he opened his eyes, he found himself back at Lacuna Inc. Confused, he tried to make sense of what had happened.
Dr. Mierzwiak entered the room, and Joel perceived something familiar about him. It was as if they had met before.
“Welcome back, Joel. Now, what can we do for you today?” Dr. Mierzwiak’s demeanour seemed normal to him, but something didn’t sit right with Joel.
“Hold on, where am I? What are you talking about?” Joel asked, trying to grasp the situation.
“Joel, have you forgotten? You came in for a procedure to erase Clementine from your memory,” Dr. Mierzwiak said as if that would put him at ease.
“What? Are you serious?” Joel asked, exasperated at the idea.
“You need to take it easy, Joel,” Dr. Mierzwiak replied calmly.
“No, I want to see Clementine. You erased her from my memory, and that was a mistake. I still love her,” Joel insisted.
Dr. Mierzwiak was taken aback by Joel’s reaction. “Joel, I don’t think you fully understand. We haven’t erased Clementine from your memory yet; you’re in the pre-screening for the procedure.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief. It was all just a dream. But, deep down, he knew that it had truly happened, and for a moment, he felt a sense of loss that he couldn’t shake off.
“I don’t want to erase her, Doctor,” Joel said with some hesitation. “Can you please tell me how I can get in touch with her?”
Dr. Mierzwiak paused for a moment and then took out a card from his pocket, “Here’s her number. But remember that she’s changed a lot since the last time you saw her.”
Joel took the card, thanked him, and left the building. He sat on a bench and glanced at the card. On it was written, “EMC2.” Joel wondered what it meant, but he wasn’t curious enough to ponder over it for too long.
He picked up his phone, hesitated for a moment, then dialled her number. It rang, and for a moment, he doubted that she would answer.
“Hello?” There was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
“Clementine, it’s me, Joel.”
“Joel, how did you get this number?” she asked, confused.
“I got it from Dr. Mierzwiak. Listen, Clementine, there is so much I need to tell you, so much I want to say,” Joel said, his emotions raging.
Clementine hesitated for a moment, “Okay, Joel, I’ll meet you at the bookstore tomorrow.”
Joel’s heart raced in excitement. He couldn’t believe it. The woman he had once loved more than anything was coming back.
The following day, Joel arrived at their favorite bookstore early in the morning, like he used to do when they were still together. He sat quietly, waiting for Clementine, wondering what she had been going through in the past weeks.
As he mulled it over, he spotted Clementine walking towards him. She looked different yet familiar. She wore a blue cap and a brown coat with trumpet sleeves, and he could see the same coloured hair peeking out from beneath the cap. These details made him realise how much he had missed her.
“Hey, Joel,” she said, walking towards him with a friendly embrace.
“Clementine, I never thought I would see you again,” Joel said, relaxing into her arms.
“I never thought I would see you again either,” she responded. “But, here we are. What did you want to talk about?”
Joel took a deep breath, “I love you, Clementine. I always have, even through all the good and the bad. I know we have been through so much, but I believe that our love outweighs all of that.”
Clementine took a step back and stared at Joel intensely, “Do you really mean it, Joel?”
“Yes, Clementine. I do,” he assured her.
They sat down, and Joel poured out his feelings onto her in a letter that he had been writing since his jolt back to reality.
“I wrote this letter for you, Clementine, for when this day finally came,” Joel said, as he handed over the strongly desired epistle to her.
For a while, she sat in silence while reading the letter box, then she looked up and locked eyes with him.
“You don’t know how much this means to me, Joel. I can’t believe that you loved me all along, despite all of our struggles,” Clementine said, her voice trembling.
They embraced one another in quiet relief, and Joel felt as though a weight had been lifted from his soul.
From that day on, Clementine and Joel started to rebuild their lives and their love, now in full knowledge of what they did and why they were perfect for each other. They continued to have their unprecedented relationships filled with changes and unrivalled affection, now in various romantic dimensions, knowing that it wasn’t good times or bad ones, but time changes everything.
They knew, in each other’s hearts, nothing could ever erase the spot, filled with sunshine and seemingly infinite love.
Some scenes from the AI movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Title: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: Memories to Keep
EXT. A BEACH – EVENING
The soft sounds of the waves can be heard as the sun begins to set on the horizon. Joel Barish, a shy but charismatic man in his early thirties, sits alone on the beach, deep in thought.
We hear Joel’s inner voice as he speaks without moving his lips.
JOEL’S INNER VOICE:
It’s been months since Clementine erased me from her memory, but I can’t seem to shake off this feeling that something is not right. It’s as if a part of me is missing.
INT. LACUNA scientists’ WORKSPACE
Dr. Howard Mierzwiak’s (early 50s), an eccentric but brilliant doctor, leads a group of scientists around, performing day-to-day tasks on the rooftop of their facility. MARY (mid-20s), an eager young technician, catches Howard’s attention as he prepares for his next day of clinical work.
(to Mary and the scientists)
As we prepare for tomorrow’s appointments, I want everyone on top of each and every detail. We at Lacuna Inc provide our clients the absolute freedom to live in the present, free of the past.
Mary, nervous and excited about tomorrow’s session, finishes her task, and walks over to Howard.
Howard, do you really believe what we do here is ethical? What we’re able to achieve is mind-bending, really… memory eviscerated in seconds, like it never really even existed.
Howard scowls at Mary at the suggestion, receiving a waved pair of wings animatedly presented by other colorfully dressed lackeys.
Independently-owned, with patients whom voluntarily choose to use our services to prevent harm, sadness, and grief? It’s a Godsend, far from lacking any moral compass, nor responsibility.
Howard begins to walk away, more formally limping away in his light step than strolling or walking.
(mumbling, as Mary speeds to follow alongside)
And the same for us disconnected from the concept of the purity of the moment if need be, forcibly nestled within the sublimity withheld and reserved for art, and tomorrow’s clients who require our valuable services.
Mary, taking the opportunity to learn from one of the great artists of memory delirium hastened in sheer conversation, walks alongside quietly pensive.
TITLE CARD: ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND.
END OF SCENE 1.
Still writing. Please can you give me details about which novel you want me to write a screenplay for? Do you have specific ideas in mind?
INT. JOEL’S APARTMENT – DAY
Joel wakes up and feels disoriented. He notices a slight humming sound in the background coming from the technicians, who are covertly affixing the equipment when Joel is still unconscious. As Joel steps ahead, he sees the glimpse of a stranger named Stan , carrying a hefty device.
What’s going on here? Who are you guys?
Dr Mierzwiak discusses the procedure among the technicians.
Chance of failures are quite minimal-based calculations made during a live procedure-free from any interruptions from unplanned bypass.
Joel takes this in, realising exactly what’s happening to him right now.
Detective Jackson and his partner Detective Stevens were staring at a board pinned with photos and documents of different buildings riddled by an arsonist suspect. Everything seemed messy until Agent Samantha inadvertently reveals her connections to the land of interest. This keeps Jackson curious, primarily making him suspicious of Samantha’s involvement with the fires.
Is there anything else you know about this?
Look, I may have grown up near one of these sites, but that doesn’t mean anything questionable is going …
But she stopped in the middle of her sentence, realizing that both the detectives were silently staring at her suspiciously.
Why are you looking at me like that ?
Now, now Miss Holmes: why wouldn’t we scrutinize someone linked to something that lit up like a volcanic eruption in sight!
We cannot apologize for doing our responsibility to wake everyone up and help eliminate such laze of ever possible crime.
AGENT SAMANTHA’s knees turned fragile at the worry if wearing her innermost most intriguing mask might pivot truly wounded his prompt profound skepticisms of who truth must surrender in respect of doubts.
Sure enough, detective. Surely you and your experienced colleague have got the essence of the investigation so far!
Their double-check done; they widened up for another hour or so poring through the lines of the local investigation authorities before Jackson, passing a hand of mere compassion over Samantha’s mist dusted hair.
Get some well-earned sleep and tomorrow head down to department headquarters to the bank’s strong safety deposit room we’re trying to keep this malefactor in check.
Cut to Samantha at home – She couldn’t stop looping the discussions through her head again and again, with doubts increasing gradually within.
INT. LACUNA INC.-MORGUE – NIGHT
Howard is mesmerized, cleaning up the empty office, passed Tylenol.
He missed Joels scheduled evening time spot, although they created another arrangement at a following hour.
Howard turns into the projection area.
On the screen, we see Joel and Clementine within an old memory of Joel.
INT. JOEL’S MIND – FLASHBACK – NIGHT
Still unconscious, Joel lies over a reef in frozen waters. An upside-down Tangerine Studio bursts through the ice.
Two clown-headed patrons stare intently at Joel.
Joel awakes, lycra’d Karaoke Group from the beginning relaxing.
We make lightning-fast shifts into and out of numerous new memories.
EXT. INTO LIGHT.KOOKY INT IMOGENE.ZOEY ACHA S BOOK – DYA Stroll.
The two sun-warpaint teenagers interrupt each other with their monologues as the vivid presence of free-floating lives steers them out of the library tower.
MCU ON THOUGHT-DELETING BOOKMARKER SCRATCHING HOLDEN’S NASA SCRAPBOOK
Into and out of a group of images and dreams simultaneously.
EXT. NAUSEA VILLAGE – DUSK
Carnivalesque moving components compose calamity rushing down the hillside area creating volumes of tumult.
MOVIE POSTER(S) SEQUENCE
The big podium in the mountain is methodically groomed by thousands of broad brush strokes.
Howard and Stan smirk.
“You live in a library?”
Joel and Clementine h ish in flashing memories.
Title on screen – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK – DAY
Joel and Clementine are taking a stroll through Central Park. The sun is shining and the sky is a bright shade of blue.
Joel (Nostalgically): “You know, I could walk through Central Park every day and it would never get old to me”.
Clementine (With a smile): “Yeah, well that’s because you have a weird obsession with trees”.
Joel (Laughing): “Hey, they’re the lungs of the earth. Without them we couldn’t survive!”
Clementine (Teasingly): “Alright, tree hugger. Let’s go find a bench and sit for a while”.
Joel and Clementine find a bench and sit, watching the people and tourists all around them. Joel puts his arm around Clementine.
Joel: “You know, sometimes I have this feeling…like we’ve been stuck in the same place for too long. I want to do something crazy and new. Shake things up a bit”.
Clementine (Curiously): “Like what?”
Joel (Smiling): “I don’t know. Maybe travel the world, live in a new country for a while. How about you?”
Clementine (Laughing): “Well, I always wanted to run off and join the circus”.
Joel (Jokingly): “You totally should. I could picture you as a circus performer”.
Clementine (Shyly): “What would you do if I weren’t here?”
Joel (Surprised): “What do you mean?”
Clementine: “If I were just gone. Like erased from your memory”.
Joel: “I don’t even want to think about that. You’re here, that’s what matters”.
Clementine looks away, her expression mournful. Joel notices and takes her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
Joel (Softly): “What’s wrong?”
Clementine (Pause): “Nothing. Just a crazy thought. I never want to lose this, Joel”.
Joel gives her a reassuring smile and they look out into the park again.
Suddenly, Clementine jumps up with an idea.
Clementine (Excitedly): “How about we go skydiving? That’s crazy and new enough for you, isn’t it?”
Joel (Nervously): “Uh, I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of craziness”.
Clementine (Trying to convince him): “Come on, it’ll be an adventure. Just think, it’ll be a memory to cherish forever”.
Joel, knowing Clementine’s persuasive power, succumbs to her enthusiasm and agrees.
Joel: “Okay, I’ll do it. But only because I love you”.
Clementine (Smiling): “I love you too, weird tree hugger”.
They stand up and walk towards the exit, ready for their next adventure.
INT. LACUNA OFFICE – DAY
Stan, the receptionist, greets them and redirects the duo to Dr. Hudis’ cubic office space who is keen to update Nicole and Ken on their next move.
“Great to have you both here. Now as we’ve deleted each associated memory of Marin’s recollection, Carl will be forgotten. New memories cannot be created that don’t mesh with or disrupt established ones. However, it’s plausible Marin’s own recollections have faced extreme activation from our actions.”
“So you’re commanding that if Marin ever interacts with Carl again, she’d contemplate who he was for short latency, then without a perceptible sense, Mars would concede Carl.”
“…Possibly. Unfortunately, people frequently endow excessive significance to occasional or insignificant events. Just revealing part of the information could fuel these evocative tendencies.”
“I can dissolve everything I impelled on her.”
Dr. Hudis looks to Ken for reconciliation. Ken looks noncommittal, eyes like big chunks of information being assessed through silences.
“How many times perform individual’s reverse a memory deletion? Would it be alright if restoring her memories using your techniques would prove too trying?”
Dr. Hudis somewhat unsympathetically:
“Experience always tells. We wouldn’t be responsible for physical reversions as a result. Of course, occasionally, spirits simply don’t succeed. No guarantees.”
Nicole looks between them gravely, pinching the folder within her hands tight enough that Ken detects the skin expanse over her knuckles.
“Provided you’re conformable with those stipulations…”
But Nicole’s mind is already made up. Nicole take over and stride to the door with Ken tailing. She is already convinced.
INT. JOEL’S APARTMENT – DAY
Joel tries to focus on work but his mind keeps drifting, leading to lackluster progress on his design work for a local client. He puts on his shoes, grabs a coat, and takes a walk outside, still lost in thought.
EXT. BROOKLYN STREETS – DAY
Joel navigates the chaos of Main Street while dodging people, carts, and bikes in noisy shops on empty sidewalks. He catches glimpses of Clementine-Michelle along the street as she dances with carefree abandon, bops rhythmically down the street, and playfully growls as she passes by pedestrians. Their eyes meet briefly, but before he could do anything else, she disappears into the crowd. Joel returns back home, feeling lonely and downcast.
INT. JOEL’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Joel bursts in his apartment lost in thought, barely taking notice of everything around himself. He checks his phone, half-expecting for a new message from Clementine, but still nothing.
Joel nervously sits in front of his TV, resists everything that happened at Lacuna with his might and leaves the cycle of continuous thoughts and worries. As he turns off the lights and duvet covers himself, exhaustion finally takes hold and Joel slowly drifts off to sleep.