"So this is the part she wanted erased?" "Yes, sensei." Interesting. "Bring me the equipment." "Yes, sensei!"
* * *
Just like what Hitome told me, there was no pain.
I didn't know why I am yearning for pain. I guess the lack of it feels too unsettling, but then again I'm being unreasonable.
"You've woken up." It was the doctor. He smiled at me, but it didn't meet his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"...I'm fine."
He took a CD out of his pocket. "Do you..."
"No."
He smiled again. Again it didn't meet his eyes. "Sure?"
"Never been more sure."
* * *
She left. The CD lay shattered beyond repair in the wastebin.
It's my job.
I manipulate memories for a living. It's not something I am proud of, but it pays well. By manipulate I mean extracting the memories and convert them into electronic form. It's as simple as Ctrl-X and Ctrl-V.
But sometimes, my clients just want me to press Del.
I of course will abide by their wish and watch as seconds, sometimes even years of memories, just poof, disappear. Gone.
I mustn't complain about this life. I was my own victim.
I deleted my memories five years ago.
I don't remember anything from before five years ago when I woke up and have no idea who I was. I couldn't speak. It took the doctors almost two years to re-teach me everything again.
Now I stand in my own clinic, manipulating memories for a living.
