Chapter 932: A Stitched-Up Life
"Then what do you mean by 'memories different from others'?"
"I mean my entire life," Yan Zhichun said. "It's not a difference in one particular event or a single detail... but a chaotic mess of differences that has been going on for many years..."
"This..." Dr. Zhao lowered his head in thought for a moment, then quickly frowned. "I certainly haven't heard of such a case in the real world, but that doesn't mean it can't be explained."
"This can also be explained by medical knowledge...?"
"It's not quite medical knowledge anymore." Dr. Zhao sighed. "Miss, whether you believe it or not, every memory in our minds right now is fake."
"Ah...?" Yan Zhichun and Jiang Ruoxue both sounded confused. "All fake?!"
"No, no, no..." Dr. Zhao laughed. "Maybe I made it sound too alarming, but that's the reality. It seems like our brains help us remember many things, storing countless memories like a library. But the truth is that every brain makes errors when storing information. For trivial details or things we didn't observe, the brain subconsciously ignores them."
"Errors...?" Yan Zhichun nodded. "Then how large is the scope of these errors?"
"Just small details." Dr. Zhao continued, "Interestingly, when we retrieve these memories, the brain 'fabricates' them anew based on context, logic, and other factors, making the memory complete."
"What...?" Yan Zhichun was slightly stunned. "You mean the brain has the ability to 'self-repair' incomplete memories...?"
"Yes, 'self-repair'—that's a good term." Dr. Zhao smiled. "In fact, the so-called 'Mandela Effect' is exactly that: the human brain constantly rewrites past memories based on current information and recent events, causing many people to believe their memories are confused. But in reality, most people's memories are wrong—just to varying degrees."
"This is too abstract..." Yan Zhichun said. "Are you saying no one can trust their own memories? What's the difference between that and being crazy?"
"No, no, no..." Dr. Zhao shook his head quickly. "Miss, you've got it backwards. It's precisely because our brains can repair memories that we don't go crazy."
"How so...?"
"Hmm... let me give you an example." Dr. Zhao glanced at the can beside him and said, "I clearly remember taking that can from the shelf. But that shelf has five levels. I only remember it was somewhere in the middle, but I forgot whether it was on the second, third, or fourth level. Does that make sense?"
"Yes." Yan Zhichun nodded. "I understand. You remember taking the can, but you didn't pay close attention to its exact position."
"Right." Dr. Zhao smiled. "A long, long time later, when I recall this event, my brain might tell me that the can was on the third level. But in reality, whether the can was actually on the third level doesn't matter; it's just to make the memory complete. That's the 'rationality' our brains grant us."
"I still don't quite understand..." Yan Zhichun slowly furrowed her brow. "If my brain didn't repair that shelf-level information, what would happen?"
"Of course." Dr. Zhao answered. "Let's compare it to a computer. Suppose our brains are precise computers. If the shelf position information is missing, every time the brain recalls this event, it will only tell you, 'You took the can from a void,' because you didn't remember the specific position, and your brain didn't either. If it can't fabricate a reasonable explanation, it has to tell you it was from 'a void' or 'unknown'—just like a buggy video game. If you kept retrieving such fragmentary memories, then you'd feel like you were going crazy."
Dr. Zhao's example was very straightforward, helping Yan Zhichun understand the principle of "memory repair" while also shedding light on some of her own experiences.
"I think I understand..." Yan Zhichun said. "Because my memories have a lot of gaps, my brain, to keep me from going insane, forcibly stitched these memories together. Even though they seem chaotic, at least they make sense... Otherwise, I would only recall shuttling endlessly through a 'void.'"
She slowly narrowed her eyes, because in her memories, Bai Yang had said something similar. But who would have thought that a madman like Bai Yang would casually blurt out the truth?
"I suppose that's the only explanation..." Dr. Zhao said. "Although I don't know exactly what happened to you, 'memory confusion' is entirely possible, especially with details..."
"It's no longer a 'detail' issue," Yan Zhichun interrupted. "Dr. Zhao, what's the most extreme case of repair you've ever heard of?"
"I've seen someone who completely forgot their family existed," Dr. Zhao said. "What kind of memories the brain can repair depends entirely on the individual's needs. Some post-traumatic disorders can cause the brain to directly 'repair' painful memories. The principle is the same: everyone's brain is 'alive,' constantly repairing itself based on different situations or the individual's current state."
Only then did Yan Zhichun realize how capable the doctor before her truly was—it was a pity she had underestimated him at first.
"I see..." Yan Zhichun nodded after listening. "Thank you, Dr. Zhao."
Now she felt as if she could piece together all those chaotic memories, including the time she had found her own corpse in Bai Yang's office...
At that time, one sentence from Bai Yang had caught her attention:
"Why are you... so early?"
Logically speaking, she had been "copied" earlier than expected for some reason, causing her to see her own body, which had caught Bai Yang off guard. That was why he had said that.
Not only that sentence seemed strange, but also the fact that Bai Yang had repeatedly said, "There's nothing here, you saw wrong" was suspicious. There was clearly a corpse—why would Bai Yang tell such an absurd lie?
He was Bai Yang, after all.
Thinking it over carefully, it was probably his way of sending a cue to her brain.
Unfortunately, the cue hadn't worked, because seeing her own corpse was too unforgettable.
Even if she didn't remember anything else in that room, she would remember her own body lying there, so her brain hadn't repaired that scene.
"If I could repair normally, I would piece together the memories..." Yan Zhichun murmured to herself. "If I couldn't repair... I would feel like I'd 'zoned out' for a moment... That must be it."
Little did they know that as they talked, Chu Tianqiu was leaning against the door outside, listening to the conversation inside, lost in thought.