Where Things Go review: memories become retrievable items

This short but sweet experience has a ponderous, ruminative quality, not just in abstract terms but in tangible things that can be stored and retrieved. It plays with the concept that memories can be converted into virtualized elements and left behind for others to retrieve. We visit shiny, tranquil looking environments where we deposit sound recordings of our voice, answering a written question that appears before us. In this space there are also white orb-like objects that can be activated: these are the responses of previous visitors, like us, who’ve deposited their thoughts.

The first environment is surreal and pastel-toned, depicting mountains and land formations beneath a starry sky with a glowing sun. Here the question, displayed in glowing yellow text, reads: “What was your childhood dream…and why?” I listened to a few recordings before contributing my own, which you need to do in order to progress. I found this question surprisingly difficult to answer, perhaps because it felt restrictive: “your childhood dream” implies we all had some great ambition, some high hope, something big and specific we wished to achieve. During childhood, we didn’t have a dream; we had many. Most of them were small and fleeting but felt big at the time. And yes: I’m aware that I’m probably thinking too much about this.

In one response I listened to, a man said that “my childhood dream was not having school, because I don’t like school.” Well…OK. Not exactly a profoundly inspirational message to put in the proverbial bottle but fair enough, he’s having a crack. Another woman began: “When I was a kid I wanted to be a dentist because there was this movie called Toothless.” Another man said: “From the time I was a kid I knew I wanted to become really wealthy.” This fellow explained how he became a hedge manager and proudly, almost obnoxiously concluded: “I’m now a multimillionaire.” 

The third person was more in line with where my head was at. He discussed how, “when I was a kid, I really didn’t have a particular dream…I think a lot of my desires that were put into my head by the grown-ups at the time…I remember wanting to be a doctor, a race driver.”

Pondering what I would say, the thought came to me that I could challenge the premise of the question, along the lines of what I mentioned above: the human tendency to simplify, or self-mythologise, or crystallize one answer from a world with many. But in such a poignant and expressive space, surrounded by heartfelt answers, nobody wants to be that dude, suggesting the premise of the question is wrong. I decided to answer by reflecting on my long-held desire to be a writer—to create stories and insights, to be noticed, to be read. I was also conscious that I was potentially guilty of what I just mentioned, about the human tendency to gravitate towards neat conclusions, and create explanations that are more about expressing who we are rather than who we were.

Moving ahead, into the next environment, the question was: “why did you first fall in love?” I had even more issues with this one. What do they mean, “why?” Because humans have an insatiable desire to love, and be loved? Because love makes the world go round? Because love is the engine of existence? What an interesting series of thoughts to contemplate. This isn’t your garden variety VR production; I’ve never experienced another like it. Nor, to be honest, do I have a particular desire to. But I’m glad I participated. I wonder who listened to my messages, and what they thought of them.