#FictionalDevice

[khushicore]

Assignment - 4 (Draft - 2)

"The Aroma Vault Chronicles"

The AromaVault 3000 sat gleaming on Clara’s bedside table, an icon of retro chic amidst the minimalism of her otherwise modern apartment. Its sleek chrome edges reflected the soft glow of the evening light, and its faux-wood panels harked back to a bygone era. It wasn’t just a scent synthesizer; it was a bridge to the past, a nostalgia engine wrapped in a compact, stylish shell.

Clara had purchased the device on impulse after reading rave reviews online. “Unparalleled emotional immersion,” one product review claimed. “It’s not just a scent synthesizer; it’s a time machine for your soul.” Another said, “Perfect for those who crave the scents of forgotten moments.” Intrigued, Clara had succumbed to the allure of its promise: memories, compressed into vapor.

This evening, Clara selected the capsule labeled “Summer 1999: Fresh Cut Grass and Lemonade.” She clicked the capsule into place, her heart tingling with anticipation. As she turned the dial, the AromaVault emitted a soft hum, followed by a subtle hiss. A plume of scent filled the air, and with it, Clara’s mind spiraled backward.

She was nine again, lying on a blanket in her grandparents’ backyard. The sun warmed her skin, and the sweet tang of lemonade clung to her lips. She could hear the distant hum of a lawnmower and the cheerful chirping of cicadas. The memories felt vivid, almost tangible—like reaching out to touch a ghost.

Then, the notification light blinked red. Clara frowned and tapped the device. A soft mechanical voice spoke: “Memory compression nearing threshold. Please replace the capsule.”

Clara hesitated, the nostalgia still thick in her senses. She had read about this in the manual—the AromaVault’s advanced algorithms compressed olfactory data to prevent overloading the user’s senses. Ignoring the warning could lead to the blending of memories, a phenomenon the forums called ‘ghosting.’

Her finger hovered over the eject button. But instead of stopping, she turned the dial to “Extend.” A faint crackle came from the machine, and the scent intensified. The memories deepened. She was running through the grass, her grandfather’s laughter echoing as he chased her. The image of him holding her hand—strong, reassuring, and now achingly distant—swelled in her chest.

Suddenly, the machine emitted a sharp beep. The scent shifted, subtly at first, then drastically. The lemonade’s tang gave way to the metallic scent of rain on asphalt, and the warm grass turned into the cold sterility of a hospital room. Clara’s heart sank. She saw her grandfather again, but now he was frail, lying on a hospital bed. The beeping wasn’t from the AromaVault but from a heart monitor, steady and unyielding.

Clara gasped and turned the dial back, desperately trying to rewind the experience. But the scents had fused, memories colliding like mismatched film reels. The AromaVault buzzed, its chrome shell growing warm.

Finally, she hit “Stop.” The machine sputtered, the scent dissipating into the air. Clara sat back, her breath uneven. The room felt quiet, too quiet. She stared at the AromaVault, its notification light now a calm blue. “Session complete,” the mechanical voice announced.

Clara wiped a tear from her cheek. The reviews had been right: the AromaVault was unparalleled in emotional immersion. But they hadn’t mentioned how fragile those emotions could be when compressed and replayed.

As she reached for a new capsule, labeled “Autumn Evenings: Cinnamon and Bonfires,” Clara hesitated. Perhaps some memories were better left uncompressed, lingering imperfectly in the recesses of her mind.

[kazexmoug-blog]

Doodles #sketchingdaily #sketching_dailydose #sketchbook #inksketch #pointing #torso #steeltoedboots #prostheticarm #fasthelmet #disembodied #drawingpractice #arthobby #dailydrawing #gettingoutofmyhead #fictionaldevices https://www.instagram.com/p/BxaCAsrJu6I/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1k2sf9ntgb9bk