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I remember every single thing of the past 26 years of my life.

Since I was 4, every image and every bit of information that came into my sight or hearing were etched into my mind.

I can tell you every bit of information about both world wars.

I can tell you every single word my teachers or generally everyone I've met has spoken

I can tell you this much because I thought it would be a good idea to use my memory for something good. I thought, that I would help myself by learning everything about history to studying engineering and all the knowledge that I thought to be interesting.

The things I learned are all over the board, the reason for that being, I thought that my memory was the key to helping everyone as I could remember everything I just read through once.

I looked into chemistry a bit, into history and physics, even a bit of politics.

Some people may think this kind of memory would be a blessing, I mean just imagine being able to learn anything you want by just reading through the thing once, or never being able to forget important days in one's life. But many people don't realize what it's like, not being able to forget anything. Some don't even think about what it would mean to never forget horrible events.

You can't forget about friends you've lost, you can't forget about past relationships that turned hostile or toxic.

And not to mention, perfect memory doesn't allow you to learn motor skills or sports or anything that isn't theory. I can tell you the composition of steel or even gunpowder, but even a child would kick my ass in football.

I can tell you... the exact car model that rammed into our family car and caused my mothers and sister's death.

I can tell you every single detail about the horrified expression my Mother had when trying to steer away from the incoming disaster.

I remember every. single. thing. for 22 years.

Would you like to know the day I tried to jump in front of a car?

Do you want to know the exact time when the ambulance arrived? Do you want to know, on which month I got my prosthetic leg? Well if you didn't want to... you have the privilege to just forget about it.

"The weather around Stuttgart for this week is mostly sunny with a chance of..."

"The radio just keeps on chattering hmm? well, I don't care... wait I need to turn right here" He whispered to himself. The day already seemed to be turning to an end with the sun slowly descending below the horizon.

The Forest on his side grew thicker and thicker as he slowly entered the black forest, luckily his destination wasn't too far into the forest. His brown beard, which covered the sides of his face and his upper lip, formed natural muttonchops, although almost any person knowing how muttonchops looked like would disagree as they looked very overgrown. His almost dead eyes were pinned on the curvy forest road which grew darker by the minute, eventually forcing him to turn his headlights on. He swished the rough ponytail on his shoulder to his back as it began to hang in his face again.

"This goddamn place has gotta be here somewhere, why else would he leave me the address to this house somewhere in the fucking sticks" I mean that guy wouldn't just leave that note there to mess with me after his death, he wasn't that kinda grandfather. Just remembering what he wrote on there is proof enough to know how serious a guy he was, although it was quite weird that he owned a house in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

"But... I've gotta say, he really saved me with this even though he probably wanted me to settle down with a family there, not as an escape from everything else." As the road closed its distance to the small village, the forest gradually turned into a black sea, truly showing why it was named the way it was. Suddenly, a light seemed to shine through the endless sea of black, shortly thereafter a few others joined. The first houses plopped up from the left and right side of the road, even though they looked nothing like the houses from Stuttgart. The structure of the houses was much more old fashioned, seemingly being from the latter half of the 19th century.

As classical houses go, those on the side of the road were certainly classified with their beautiful woodwork and the sturdy brick foundations of which the first floor was built. The Houses all looked different from each other with their own character but they still obeyed the same rules. The few cars that were parking on the side of the small road looked like they were used for decades and the few street lights on the rough asphalt were hanging meters apart from each other, all of them still using sodium vapor lamps which were pretty much nothing more than a long-forgotten legend in big city's.

"Damn, this place seems to be frozen in the thirties, but back then they probably didn't even have any lights here... well at least it's far away from whatever I'm fleeing from" He once again muttered. His pupils slightly contracted as the bright yellowish light hit his face, illuminating his dead expression which seemed to be etched onto his face. As he slowly drove through the dimly lit street he once again looked at the little note he used to get here.

"Holdelingen/ 79845.

Ludewikle Strasse 3.

I know you have that thing with your memory, so move there. I want you to live your best life and you know that. That house is in our family for over 200 years and wasn't lived in for quite some time."

"..."

Every time he read the note, a piercing constant noise of a flat-lining heartbeat monitor would play in his ears as if he still were in the hospital. He quickly turned on the radio again, trying to drown the almost deafening sound out of his ears with some music, but the only thing responding to his silent plea was the sound of radio chatter due to the car already being out of coverage for the radio waves to reach.

He looked over to the seat next to him, there lay the box which was previously attached to the note. He was supposed to open it when he got to the house, though for some reason, the handwriting on the box was completely unlike any he had ever seen before, though at the moment he didn't really care.

After a few minutes of driving through the desolate streets of the little village, he finally arrived at the crossing indicating the street he was supposed to find his house at. As he drove into the crossing two houses instantly popped into his vision, but none of them seemed to be the house he needed to reach. Standing still for a minute, he continued driving while scratching his ungroomed beard in confusion at the lack of house.

Continuing to drive for a few more minutes, a pretty decently sized house popped into his vision. Certainly, it was not something someone like him would be able to normally afford back in Stuttgart with the few years of work experience he had. As he parked his car in front of the lonely house, He put his hand onto the car door, slowly hesitating before opening it.

He took the unopened box with him while getting out of the car and went to the back to get his luggage out of the trunk. He took his small suitcase out of the trunk while trying to keep himself warm with the cheap black winter jacket he brought with him. As he slowly approached the strong seeming wooden door which had a few cobwebs on it, he reached into his pocket, getting a key out of it to unlock the aforementioned door. As the key slid into the rusty looking lock, He heard the typical click of an opening lock as he turned it. The first few steps into the house were quite hurried as he tried to get into the warm as fast as he could, although he quickly had to acknowledge that the house obviously wasn't preheated. He switched the old-looking light switch and a few lights turned on revealing the floor which for some reason looked pretty clean.

"looks like someone has been cleaning here huh? well, gotta thank them I guess" He put down his luggage beside the door and explored the house a bit, although it couldn't really be called exploring as he only had to glance into a room to remember its layout and what was in it. He walked into the bedroom which was located on the second floor of the building and was quickly taken back by the PC standing on a desk.

"Wasn't this house supposed to not have been lived in for like 80 years? How the hell could a PC stand here?" He asked out loud. Confused as he was, he quickly noticed the lack of an internet cable. The lack of phones in the house, in general, unnerved him at this moment. How would there be no phone connection in the entire house but a PC just randomly sitting there on the desk? He looked into his arms where the box he took with him was kept tightly.

As there wasn't anything holding him back now, he opened the box without caring to much if it got broken, but as he opened it, he immediately regretted it in a weird way. There, in the box, lay a weird silver disk which obviously was a CD. On it, one word was written in the same weird way as the text on the box. The word was written in English and read "Polar"