Memento by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones
memento (noun): an object or item that serves to remind one of a person, past event, etc.; keepsake; souvenir
The once ubiquitous cellphones that people carried were still around, but now useless.
If the battery was dead and could no longer hold a charge, all you had was a brick. Something from Before that had weight and substance, butâŚessentially, paperweight.
If you still had your phone and could somehow charge it, you could at least access the folder holding your photos and videos. You had memories, if you could access themâŚfor a little while.
Rick thought that maybe, justâŚmaybe⌠it was fate that Jadis was waiting for him that morning at the Market or he would have missed...
Before the proprietor of Benjiroâs Portraiture and Art, looked up from his work, he saw the well-worn boots of one of his regular customers.
âRick,â he smiled warmly. âGood to see you again.â
No Howâs it goinâ? or Whatâs up!! Always the same quick, acknowledging nod, the soft greeting and the small smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes.
âI have something for you,â the young man said, putting away the piece he was working on and wiping his hands on his apron. âJust a minute,â he called over his shoulder as he ducked behind the curtain masking off the rear of the stall, leaving Rick a little bit perplexed, but curious.
While he waited, his eyes wandered over the goods on display.
Mounted on the wall are different models of old cellphones. Dozens of them, found just about everywhere that the living were before the world tried to die back inâŚwhat was it, 20*10*? They were also found on some of the walking corpses that were herded into the culling facility located outside the walls of the City, riding in pockets of shirts, pants, jackets, skirts that hadnât been torn or rotted out because the fabric was exposed to the elements and constant friction of movement.
In addition to Citizens of the CR bringing their personal devices to him, sometimes Consignees on furlough would bring to Benjiro the cellphones they scavenged as trade to have one engraved for themselves, or theyâd bring their own long-dead device they continued to carry out of habit.
For some, they held onto these devices in the âJust in Caseâ hope that one day soon, the phones would come back online andâ
SomeoneâŚanyone I loveâŚlovedâŚ
is still alive, trying to find meâŚor I can find them.
Most of the time, people would see someone elseâs etched phone and make their way to the Market and Benjiroâs stall, asking if he could turn a former technological wonder that once held hundreds of images, into something not too unlike the tiny portraits that people comissioned artists to hand-paint and mount into tiny frames, brooches to be worn, or inside of pocket watches to be carried as mementos, before modern photography made having images of loved ones accessible to almost anyone.
The finished pieces became like tokens, talismans, momentos of what the owners missed the most.
And it wasnât just cellphones Benjiro turned into keepsakes:
Etched into the glass of a derelict iPad, there was the image of a little girl holding a toy bunny rabbit.
On an e-reader, a man wearing a baseball cap with NAVY on it was pictured holding a copy of âLord of the Ringsâ.
And thereâs even an ancient portable TV reminiscent of the one that Rickâs gramma watched her stories on when he was a little boy what seems like many many lifetimes ago.
On it is etched an image of a smiling woman standing in a field, holding a little girl.
Is she alive, he wonders. Are they okay? Are they stillâ
The artist returned and approached counter.
âSoâŚâ he said, handing the flannel-wrapped parcel to Rick. âI had an idea and tried something different.â
âYou didnât have toâŚhow much do Iâ?â
âOh, no charge! Please. Itâs for you.â
âYou really didnât have toâŚ.â
The young man looked down and shrugged. âIâm just sorry I havenât been able to get your boy right for you. I hope this is okay for now.â
Rick unwrapped the parcel, looked up at the artist and back down at the gift, and caught his breath.
Carved into the glass on the phone was an image of Michonne, with her locs a little longer than they were last he saw her, and a girlâŚmaybe 7 or 8 years old with hair past her shoulders.
It was Judith. Wearing his sheriffâs hat that heâd given to 10 year old Carl at Herschelâs farm.
The hat Carl gave to his little sister the night before heâŚ
Rick runs his fingers gently over the glass. Over the etched locs and the smooth area of his wifeâs face, then over the hat and the face of his daughter.
He closes his eyes, memorizing the pattern.
He finally looks up at Benjiro. âThank you. You donât know how much thisâŚâ
It wasnât the first time he went quiet in front of the artist.
Before he can find the words, the pager on his belt begins to beep.
Another furlough day is over. Time to leave the CR. A place where, unlike everyone else lucky enough to get in, he has no intention of staying because his family isnât there.
âI know youâll see them again, Rick,â Benjiro offered. âThat writing there, next to your name? MĹsukoshi dake shinjite.
Itâs Japanese, and it means âbelieve a little bit longerâ.â
Rick rewraps the phone, and instead of putting it in his jeans pocket, he places it in the inside pocket of his Consignee jacket, on the left side, near his heart.
âThank you. I appreciate what you did.â
âMy pleasure, Rick. You take care. See you next time.â
âYou too,â he nods, and makes his way back to the bus.
On the bus heading back to the outskirts of the City, he feels the portrait of his wife and daughter nestled in the pocket near his heart, and he thinks about falling asleep and waking up holding Michonne in his arms. The smell of her skin, her hair.
He thinks about Judith. Her smile and the way she laughs when he picks her up and runs with her.
He thinks about his friends and his community, his home.
He thinks about the old messenger bag he found while on a scavenger mission at the abandoned Mall located in the uninhabited sector of what used to be the City of Philadelphia.
And the broken lock on a security door leading outside behind the anchor store of that Mall.
And how his father would say, âThird timeâs the charm.â
If you got this far, thank you for the kindness of you indulgence.
Also posted HERE on AO3âŚwith the moodboard.
UPDATE 10/24/25 - The graphic now features a shot of Michonne and Judith that is closer to the image on the cellphone. Thanks!
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