Sallie went to the Forgettery. She told the them that she wanted to forget all the times she’d shamed herself in front of her friends and lovers. “Fine,” the clinician said, “we can do that.”
Then Sallie had second thoughts. “Look,” she said, “those people will still have their own memories of what I did. They will look at me oddly, head-atilt, and say ‘Don’t you remember the time that you…?’ or worse, they will look at me and say nothing. Probably the latter, and I will be wondering what they’re thinking of and assuming the worst, and all this torment will come to pass just because I came here to the Forgettery.”
“Fine,” said the clinician. “Lie down in our special tube here and let me begin the procedure. You will soon forget you ever came here to the Forgettery. That will be four thousand seven hundred dollars, please.
“In advance.”
<END>
THE THURSDAY PITCH
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