[Center][h3][color=B0C4DE]Avory[/color][/h3][/center]

     Sitting with his legs crossed on what was no doubt intended as a footrest Avory peered at a slowly scrolling screen of text up on his computer. It was the newest research on repressed memory dredging. In the early nineties Freud's work and hypnosis had largely been stamped from existence as dangerous as there was nothing of merit in the studies he had conducted. The newest research seemed to suggest that Freud wasn’t as wrong as people had initially thought. At Least not wrong about the brain's ability to fully bury certain memories. Memory was such a touchy subject though since it was possible that the memories in question were still as reconstructed as the original hypnosis studies. Suggestion was a powerful thing, in this case though it seemed like what they had discovered where encoded synaptic pathways which had been wired around by the brain or rewired in such a way that the memories had been re-purposed for something else entirely. 

     A email ping popped up in the lower right corner of Avory’s screen. The time stamp on it made him blink. [i]Was it really already 11?[/i] Shasha. Scanning the tag line Avory decided that it was safe to ignore the email until his reading was done. Swiping the piece of glass shot through with circuitry sitting in his lap Avory tapped the speed up on the scroll. Glossing over the analysis he went straight for the conclusions section. Pursing his lips Avory uncrossed his legs and stood up from the foot rest. The article really had little bearing on his own research since Avory’s Honors Thesis was on replication of consciousness. On paper it was a theoretical process for replicating an individual's consciousness in another neural net. The practical applications were far ranging but its implications also opened up a whole new field of bioethics and techno ethical questions.

      Closing out of the paper Avory considered the tagline of the email before sorting the files he’d left cluttering the desktop. The flat he rented in London proper was neat, clean, gloomy and properly dapper in terms of interior decoration. The cultivation of the isolated genius trope was something he took a mild amount of pleasure in given that he no longer needed to impress Maria. Shooting a look at the portrait of the Spanish foreign exchange student that he’d never gotten around to disposing of Avory reached over and placed it face down on the desk his computer sat on. It really was time to move on. There were plenty of women who made eyes at him. With a sigh Avory went back to the email considering it again. 

      Double clicking on the email button Avory opened Sasha’s email and scanned over it. Unification day. [i]Huh.[/i] Originally he’d planned on finding somewhere to go dancing but the suggestion of finding some place in America for a roaring party have a certain appeal to it. As he considered how to pitch New Orleans, the birthplace of Jazz and one of the best places he knew personally to get knackered and enjoy a night on the town his phone rang. Looking at the offending object he squinted at the computer screen again. Work was calling, which probably meant he wasn’t getting to case a new dance hall tonight or work on his Thesis. 

      Standing up Avory thumbed the surface of the sleek device and consulted the warning. With a few smooth swipes of his thumb Avory opened a text window as he walked towards the door to collect his coat. “Text Sasha.” The phone chimed, it wasn’t terribly necessary to speak to it but hearing his voice for the first time in probably the last ten hours was a good start to getting back to normal. Thumbing over the nine key pad Avory composed an appropriately succinct text.

[center][indent][i]We meeting up on this side? I’m headed out the door.
Avory_[/i][/indent][/center]