No two people are exactly alike, but Elijah Crowe is very, very different.
Elijah is on the autism spectrum, so the tasks of day-to-day life most people breeze through are a challenge for him. His career suffered because he never got the hang of schmoozing, and now his talents are being wasted teaching classes at the mall. His social circle is limited to his ex, his therapist, and a structured inclusion group at the Rec Center. The one bright spot in his life is the memory science of Mnemography.
Although he loves nothing better than devouring the latest research and tinkering with all the specialized equipment, he never clicked with any other experts in the field until he met Daniel Schroeder. Daniel runs a memory palace—he even writes his own mnems—and that shared interest alone would make him fascinating. But Daniel and Elijah met under unusual circumstances, where the statement, “I like you, and I think you like me,” held some surprising nuances.
Now Elijah suspects he’s gay, but the few prominent people in his life are less than supportive. Some are downright hostile. Elijah might not be neurotypical, but he’s plenty smart. Surely there’s some way to get people to accept him for who he is. If only he could figure out how.
Every day, Daniel Schroeder breaks his father's heart.
The two of them have always been close, which makes it all the more difficult to break the daily news: the last five years were nothing like Big Dan remembers.
They're both professionals in the memory field--they even run their own memory palace. So shouldn't they be able to figure out a way to overwrite the persistent false memory that's wreaking havoc on both of their lives? Daniel thought he was holding it together, but the situation is sliding out of control. Now even his own equipment has turned against him, reminding him he hasn't had a date in ages by taunting him with flashes of an elusive man in black that only he can see.
The Elijah character makes no sense. Not only does he claim to be straight--which has never piqued Daniel's interest--but he's appearing in manufactured memories in which he's never been programmed. Is it some quirk of the circuitry, or is Daniel's desire to connect with someone clouding his own memory?