“Going up,” the elevator voice chirped in a girly electronica voice that sounded just-below-the-surface familiar. The speaker verged on a giggle. The tone flirted with smug.
A flash of my second niece’s smirk seemed to tease my memory as I searched for the connection. It was a voice I had met only recently. Mechanical, yet somehow an odd mix of mocking and absurdly cheerful.
The way you sometimes feel when encountered with the energy and the knowledge that children will possess that you never will in the same way.
Irritatingly directive, but unearned. Deceptively innocent.
You could recreate the voice by tensing your throat muscles tight to talk in the most adorable persona possible. Yet careful to maintain a monotone.
How does an answer materialize? Out of thin air.
Wii. It’s the voice of Wii Fit.
How does memory work? I seem to store memories in feelings. I can remember a face based on a very specific feeling that same face elicits when I see it again out of context. This is very useful when you don’t have access to imdb.
One of my most difficult “gets” was when I spotted a character from Deadwood in The Blind Side as a teacher. Naturally, I didn’t make that connection for about 50 minutes so I spent the better part of the movie sifting through the emotions that teacher she played seemed to emit. Slightly dangerous. Powerful in an unconventional, scandalous way. Familiar, in the way that t.v. acquaints you with someone, not a movie.
Then out of the sludge–the millions of data sparks, the answer pulls itself out of the chaos. Dusts itself off. Blinking at you. You feel like you have earned a trophy. A nerdy, private trophy for making an obscure memory relevant.