Lost Memory

At three o'clock in the morning on July 12, 2077, the emergency lights of the municipal hospital were dizzying. I clutched my bloody work badge and heard the sound of the moon cracking from the window - not a metaphor, but a real "click", like someone splitting the sky with an axe. When the black mist poured into the stairwell, intern Xiao Liu suddenly grabbed my white coat. His pupils turned into two black holes and his nails dug into my wrists: "Doctor, I can't remember what my mother looks like - I was thinking about it just now, but now it's gone!" I looked down at my hands, and my temples ached sharply - the phone screen was on, and under the message of insufficient memory, a line of red words was flashing: "You have 23% of your memory left."