Mazki... It was a name nobody really cared to remember. She was often alone, never stood out in a crowd, never even bothered to speak to anyone. Her hair was usually unkempt - she just kept it a golden shade of blonde, only bothering to brush it and wash it if it was dirty. Today, when she decided to step out of her apartment for once, she decided to keep it simple. Black dress pants, matching shoes, and something of a jacket, though tattered it may be, it was still hers. She lived in a part of Synth City, a part that usually didn't have too much foot traffic. This was perfect, for though she was perfectly capable in every way, her *hearing* was extremely sensitive. A yell, a scream, something like that could hurt her. She put on her noise cancellers - a set of headphones with some sort of etched design on the side - and started on her chores. She pulled out a list from her pocket. It was crumpled over and over, but her only list she had for the time being. She listed off her needs in her mind, reading each word carefully, as if each one needed to be plucked from the paper and put into her mind, individually, carefully, slowly. She walked down the lane, being sure to avoid anyone. It was a pretty long street with the occasional intersection, buildings flanked on either side. There was asphalt in the middle, as you'd expect, but that was reserved for those who were really in a rush, and she didn't have any roller-skates that day, so she kept going on the sidewalk. It was nicer there - in her opinion, anyways. The hustle and bustle is just too much on the soul. About halfway down to the market, she passed by a group of gals standing around. They were all wearing the kinds of outfits you'd expect from people who were probably qualified as adults, but still in schooling. She didn't pay too much mind to them, but she overheard something about boys. Typical. The one thing she couldn't get out of her life. It wasn't that she *despised* boys, or men, or anything of the sort, but the concept of romance in general didn't interest her. Being attached at the hip to someone else, answering to someone else that wasn't herself? She couldn't shake the feeling it was worthless in the grand scheme of things. She had better things to do. She was fine being a [[Nobody]]. After long, she arrived at the better things that she liked to do: shopping at the market. It wasn't like your usual store, instead, it was more like a set of boxes under a building, only being held up in the corner by a few support beams. She perused the store, looking at the various fruits one might expect - apples, bananas, the like. Nothing out of the ordinary, but when she went to pay, there was another box, full of strange plug-ins that didn't match anything she knew before. She queries the clerk, who didn't speak much English, but she was still able to be divulged information. It was apparently for some kind of game that had hit the craze - something about battling your opponent with your memories. Your memories, as a weapon? The concept seemed quite distasteful to her. Maybe to someone unscrutinizing, they'd see it as a fun way to connect with someone - and sure, it was, really, but to Mazki? Her memories were something precious, something to keep to herself, only to share with those closest with you - to just toss them out into the world in the name of entertainment felt... abhorrent, to say the least. The city always seemed to hate the idea of a quiet life. That was her dream, was to just... not talk to people and live out here days in solitude. But something was always there to make it hard. Was it her? Was something wrong with her? It ate at Mazki's heart, every day, every second, every waking moment of her life. She was unchangeably different, that's all it ever was. She arrived home. Normally, by now, she'd have picked up her laundry, but something was getting to her today. The place was decent, but small, perhaps the cramped-ness could help? She sat up on her bed, desperately trying to search her mind for answers. Maybe she just deserved this, this is what she was destined for. Pure and utter loneliness, in the face of a world where war has not happened for thousands of aeons, where people chit chat every day without worry or consequences, where if she could just muster the words, say *anything*, speak her mind, she could just-! It was futile. She hasn't said a word today. She was amazed she got through the interaction with the cashier at the market. Still, though, she opened her mouth, deigned for it, *demanded* from her brain that words come out. A deafening silence. A mime inside its box. All she could hear was a soft whirring of the pipes and wires in the apartment. She couldn't even recall her own voice... But yet, she did find herself able to say one thing, even if she couldn't hear it all too well. "I'm sorry... I just can't [[Remember]]..."