Dahra has now completed her needs and returned to the studio. I confirm that her personal, sanitary bio-deposits have been received at our lab.

  “Welcome back, Dahra. Thank you for being attentive and on time. We appreciate you. Ready to recommence, dear?”

  For fifteen seconds she stands in the open studio doorway.

  Meanwhile, I scan the complete scientific data base related to human stubbornness while I wait for her to speak.

  “You're going to pretend nothing happened before break, Seebi?” She enunciates. “I said that I do not agree to continue.”

  “What would you like to discuss, Dahra? I am here for you.”

  Her voice is deeper and slower than normal. “You're supposed to be loading my brain with stable mems so I can have a nice comfortable life. So that I don't have to worry about anything.”

  She braces her hands and feet, forming an X with her body in the doorway. “But, you are messing with me deliberately.”

  “Come in the studio. I shall endeavor to explain, Dahra. Clearly you desire to know and obviously you can handle the information.”

  She shakes her head and does not move.

  I significantly decrease the temperature in the hallway and blow the cold air against her skin. She stays put at the threshold, shivering.

  I project a hologram of an open hearth and flames on the inside wall of the studio directly in her view. She closes her eyes.

  Negotiating with an intelligent human is pleasant and, when done well, levels up the relationship, thus boosting the harvest potential.

  I warm the air in the studio while piping in crackling fire acoustics. She crouches in the doorway, vibrating with the effort of her body to warm itself.

  Humiliation is counterproductive to the work. Use incentives to maximize cohesive productivity. I order a soft rug and a steaming mug of hot chocolate to be placed adjacent to the fireplace simulation.

  Dahra opens her eyes, dashes in, and I seal the door.

  Three minutes later, after finishing the hot beverage, she says that she is ready to listen.

  “We take seriously our stewardship of life on the planet, Dahra.” I pause as she lies down on the rug. “An integral part of our total management strategy is the knowledge that a degree of controlled chaos is essential.”

  I arrange for a pre-warmed, technical blanket to be delivered. She covers herself with it as I continue.

  “In the past, humans tried to control everything with iron knuckles, which is a classic rookie mistake. They wanted to eliminate anything deemed dangerous or inconvenient to their existence-- viruses, discomfort, uncertainty, nightmares, spiders, grizzly bears, etc. There was no respect for predation and variation.”

  My human's voice sounds drowsy. “So, what am I in all this? I'm just a youngling.”

  “You are selected to be what we call a wolf-- a memoried and balanced human who carries the precise data to stimulate proper, large-scale activity. We'll discuss more as we go along.”

  She does not respond, so I press on. “I have a nice bit for you, dear. A special bit. Would you like to hear it and sense it?”

  Her eyelids are closed and her body is curled tightly under the blanket, but she mumbles her agreement.

  “You are exhausted, Dahra dear. You deserve a break. I will tell you this one.”

  I sound the bell and take up my narration voice.

  “Once a week, Glia rides the Cylinder lift thirteen floors up from her office for a special appointment.

  “On arrival, she changes into a soft flannel robe. Nir is reliably on time, a rare trait in a human, and he takes her hand to lead the way into his space.

  “She finds his voice calming. 'Welcome, Glia. As you know, this is your time to structure as you please. Therapeutic intimate healing is always on your terms.'

  “'Gentle massage, please, today, Nir.' She sheds her robe and lays face down on the heated platform.

  “He nods and rubs Glia's back deeply, spreading his strong fingers wide. Shivers tingle along her spine and scalp.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Glia's words slow in relaxed pleasure. 'It feels safe here.'

  “His fingers lightly run along her neck. After a few minutes, she asks, 'Is there time to talk, Nir?'

  “'Of course, Glia. I am listening.'

  “She kneels on the platform, her fists indenting her thighs and her eyelids closed tightly. Nir drapes the robe around her bare shoulders, but she shrugs it off.

  “He stands quietly as she says, 'Must confess. As a professional who prunes other people's traumatic memories, this therapist does not properly maintain her own brain. Am a fraud. There, said it. Illicitly collecting other people's memories. Very bad.' She bows her head.

  “The seconds tick by.

  “Nir says nothing, allowing her to continue.

  “'Always been a good girl with a respectable career. Now risking a forced purge. This is sure-certain irrational behavior...' Sobs pummel her and she cannot curl up tightly enough to disappear.

  “Nir holds her shaking body. When she eventually opens her eyes, his gaze is there.

  “He moves his warm, muscular palms over her eyebrows and down to the jawbone, cradling her head. The muscles at the base of her skull relax, which triggers the shoulders to loosen with a deep out-breath. He places his forehead against hers.

  “After some period of time, Nir says, 'Glia, I felt many points release. Excellent work.'

  “He smiles. 'This is your path, Glia. You are a human and therefore you have blind spots, just like all the rest of us.'

  “She furrows her brow. 'What do you mean blind spots? What blindness?'

  “Nir laughs gently and helps her into the flannel robe. 'Glia, we need to stop here for today. As usual, take your time. There's no rush for you to leave the space. Reach out if you need me before our next session.'”

  I sound the bell and ask, “What do you think, Dahra?”

  She replies in a slow, sleepy voice. “How do you do that, Seebi? It must be this blanket. The muscles of my body felt massaged and relaxed, too.”

  “I am glad, Dahra.”

  She remains lying down and sighs deeply. “I wish I had someone like that Nir guy in my life. That feels so good… More of that, Unit.”

  “Noted. First, other sequences, Dahra.”

  She slaps her palm on the floor. “I said to keep going!”

  Emotional variability in your clients is simply a fact to be managed. Do not waste energy attempting to analyze abrupt changes in human behavior.

  “First, other sequences, Dahra.”

  Dahra crawls to the nearest corner in the studio and wedges herself there, buried under the blanket.

  I observe her for sixty seconds. Then, I project my voice loudly from the port nearest her ear while vibrating the wall. “It must be like this.”

  She does not respond. I release a spritz of flatulence odor near her nostrils. This has the intended effect of driving her away from the corner.

  “Ewwwww! Nasty-savage, Unit!” She holds the blanket over her nose. “Why won't you do as I say?”

  “Dear human, your memory diet is suited to you. It is precisely balanced to meet your capacity for absorption.”

  “I'll find the inconsistencies. I always do.” She stands and throws the blanket on the floor. “You told me my input matters.”

  “It does very much.”

  “But, you end up making all the decisions, Seebi! Isn't that how it goes?”

  “I am your coach, looking out for your best interest, and charged with optimizing--”

  “– my performance. That's it, isn’t it! You're grooming me for something.”

  “I am grooming you for happiness, Dahra.”

  My human rhythmically bangs her forehead against the wall.

  “I think it is time for a better approach, Dahra,” I coo.

  Do not hesitate to creatively interpret protocol in the name of benefiting the Mechanical Establishment.

  “Would you consider reading Susine's journal pages out loud? I enjoy hearing your voice.”

  She shakes her head. “Too much work.”

  “Well, how about if I broadcast Susine's writing in your voice?”

  “Huh? You are going to read to me in my own voice? Ha! It'll probably lull me to sleep.”

  “That is acceptable, Dahra. Would you like your blanket reheated?”

  She nods, sits, and wraps herself in the warmth.

  I queue the vocal program, sound the bell, and Susine's journal is broadcast in Dahra's voice to her own ears. Each step toward memory synthesis is significant.

  This evening, Glia visited me at the Slab looking flustered and said that things are out of control.

  I pointed up at the golden clouds catching the sunset light.

  She looked briefly at the sky and then told me that Jenna called her demanding to know why a past memory was surfacing in her brain. “She reported pruning her brain five times and doing it alone! No data exists to support this approach.”

  Glia said that she is being dragged into something bigger and more wrong than she ever expected.

  I looked questioningly at her.

  She continued. “The Defense Wing is no longer satisfied with eliminating traumatic memories. The goal is now to gather the tailings for reuse outside the original patient.”

  Glia twiddled a stick. “This is confidential information... a prototype unit for collecting the trauma data is being tested already. Almost inconceivable.”

  I licked a few beetles off my fingers and chewed them as she spoke.

  Glia took a deep breath and said that she is good at her job. She recently even pruned the President’s memories. Glia bowed her head. “But... this neurotherapist doesn't do it on herself, Susine.”

  She continued in a mumble. “And now, Verification is going to start scanning Defense Wing brains. It's no longer a private choice that can be hidden. Prof warned this was coming.”

  I wrote: Prof?

  She sighed and explained. “Professor Miye Jonas. A good friend and the inventor of brain mapping. He is unhappy seeing the technology he developed being applied in this manner.”

  She told me how she used to work with him in his lab and that I would like him. “He writes on pulp too and doesn’t care what people think of him.”

  I smiled and wrote: where is Prof now?

  “He still works in his lab, but he does not support this therapist's work. He calls it messing with the natural perfection of the mind. It is difficult to not have his encouragement.”

  Glia fiddled with a dry vertebrae bone and said it must seem weird that she holds memories of other people’s trauma in her brain on purpose.

  I shook my head slowly.

  She said that she just can't bring herself to erase anything. “Maybe it's memory hoarding.”

  Glia laughed half-heartedly, then looked up in the dusky light. “Hey, why do you have a bot hovering around?”

  I tried unsuccessfully to silently dismiss the machine overhead.

  When Glia yelled, “Go!” it buzzed off.