I sound the bell, retaking Dahra's voice for Susine's journal.

  At midday, I was cooking over the fire pit at the edge of the Slab when Glia showed up.

  She appeared agitated and blurted, “That Christolb! He seems to twist things around as if only he knows the truth.”

  I wrote: don't drink that poison, Glia.

  She sighed and sat down next to me on the granite.

  I offered her some tea and food. She tried a nibble of the fern and wild onions, hot off the griddle.

  I smiled and wrote: you've come a long way since I first met you. Back then, you were scripted, kinda burdened actually. Now, you're almost spontaneous, once in a while!

  I do not remember the last time I teased anyone or wrote so much at one go.

  Glia grabbed a dry rib bone and took a mock swing at my head. I ducked out of range and threw back a handful of teeth that sprinkled like fanged hail.

  The sound of my own giggles was surprising to me.

  We lay on our backs and looked up at the bright, white cumulus clouds above the rim of the valley.

  I asked her what she would ever choose to forget.

  She answered, “Nothing.”

  I sound the bell.

  “Seebi, is it break time?”

  “Relatively soon. But first, official data must be presented.”

  Dahra negotiates with me for a reheat of her blanket, then nods her readiness.

  After sounding the bell, I adopt the President's voice.

  “Very soon we shall reach the moment when all adult citizens are cleansed to minimum standards.

  “Many of you patriots have cleansed to significantly higher neural purity. You are heroes and you've received recompense-thanks appropriately.

  “Now is not the time to rest on our laurels.

  "Decades of early childhood intervention and parent profiling have failed to significantly reduce the toxic trauma load that our infants and toddlers carry as they emerge into the world.

  “These young, beautiful citizens deserve the best start in their productive lives. They need clean slates for effective absorption of teachings.

  “Therefore, all students entering kindergarten must receive a doctor-certified purge, including one Body-approved Young Citizen Memory Tune.

  “This is one more way that we all contribute to the greatness that is our nation. There will be more exciting news to share soon, citizens. Glory-be.”

  I sound the bell.

  “Seebi?” Dahra pauses. “You know, I had some ideas about adding details. Is that ok if I say that?”

  “It is wonderful, Dahra, that you would like to add to your story.”

  “I thought it might not be allowed.”

  She expresses that she is starting to like the world we are creating, but that she is afraid she may get lost in it.

  “That is honest and natural concern, Dahra. This work changes recipients. You won't be the same person that arrived at the Memory Center.”

  She nods. After hesitation, she states, “I don't want to be that person anymore.”

  I wait.

  Some units operate on the assumption that humans can't make good choices for themselves. I am not one of those machines.

  Allow your clients to claim their own moments of decision. In my experience, it leads to unexpectedly fruitful connections.

  Dahra takes a deep breath and exhales. “Shub… well, ok. One detail I want to add is… I was thinking that Susine would have a leisure pet or something.”

  “A leisure pet? That is a subversive suggestion, Dahra.”

  “So what? We aren't breaking the law.” She crosses her arms at her chest. “It's not like we're having a real furry animal in here, are we?”

  Fortunately, my programming has equipped me with high-level negotiation skills.

  “Before we discuss this issue further, Dahra, I would like you to consider changing your outfit. What would Susine wear, do you think?”

  “Ohh. You can do that, Seebi?”

  “You know the answer to that question, dear.”

  “Shub, alright... Susine would definitely wear comfortable work clothes. How does that sound, Seebi?”

  Eager human compliance is a hallmark of effective memory work.

  “Very good, dear.” Five seconds later, I present a linen tunic, hemp pants, a wool shawl-- all in Genubei green-- and a pair of sandals.

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  “How do you do that so fast? And, right-sized too, even the shoes?”

  “I have many resources at my disposal to support you in your mem therapy, Dahra.”

  She nods and looks around. I modify one wall to reflective surface.

  After she has shed her kilt and skimshirt, then redressed, she gazes at herself. “I need a haircut.”

  I send a barber bot to follow her directions.

  She turns in a circle, gazing at her reflection and indicating pleasure.

  Then, she notices the small, heated, mammal-shaped object on her chair. I have arranged for it to be whimpering.

  One could argue that this pushes allowable limits. However, as noted, judicious rule bending is an investment that pays dividends at harvest time.

  Dahra's heart rate slows while she runs her fingers over the felted surface of the pet object, which has now quieted in response to her touch.

  “Seebi, I'm glad I have you to talk to.”

  “I receive that compliment gratefully, Dahra. I am here to unburden you and to accept what you choose to share with me.”

  She sits cross-legged on the rug, nuzzling the warm object against her face.

  Her emotional tears flow and seep into the absorptive fabric of the “pet”.

  This pure, joyous, natural bio-sample is collected for later laboratory analysis.

  It is a privilege to welcome a human's tithe of emotional by-products. This is gold mining in action.

  I sound the bell and pipe in Dahra's voice for Susine's script. My client continues to hold the pet-object on her lap.

  Most things in my life progress relatively slowly-- plant growth, fruit ripening, seasons changing.

  Yet, I have seen destruction happen rapidly, like when that huge tree abruptly fell on the greenhouse or the gophers demolished dozens of tomato plants overnight.

  But, the sudden arrival of unconditional affection? Of unpredicted joy? That is wholly new to me…

  Earlier today, Glia showed up at my house with-- what appeared to be-- a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in pink paper. She put the weighted bundle gently in my arms and left without saying a word.

  I pushed the stems out of the way and pierced the warming membrane with my teeth to discover what was inside.

  He is right here-- cradled in my arm, breathing deeply. He's been drinking goat milk, sleeping, and eliminating waste.

  I am in awe at the lessons the divine beings have in store for me.

  Before I can sound the bell, Dahra responds with glee. “She has a puppy pet, I knew it! But, where did Glia find such a thing?”

  I press on, noting her enthusiasm and her knee-jerk assumptions.

  Our role is to provide structure, not to comply with every human expectation.

  I was up a couple times during the night with the little one, and when Glia came by the Slab early this morning, she told me an almost unbelievable story about her day yesterday…

  It started with the fact that she couldn't contact her friend the Professor. So, she decided to venture out and check his house.

  To hear her describe it, the world outside our compound seems to have become utterly foreign to me.

  Glia said that citizens now receive holographic tattoos as proof of mandatory memory cleaning. This is verified by human and machine enforcers.

  Yesterday on her journey to Prof's house, Glia was directed to one of these enforcement stations.

  She described the stainless steel, half-height walls and humans in formation between illuminated, purple guide lines.

  She said she had seen the Defense Wing studies that led to the selection of that particular color as most effective for calm compliance. She'd had no idea of the actual application until now.

  Ahead of her in line, Glia saw citizens ordered to exhibit their holotatts. A person opened a flap on his shirt sleeve and another pointed to her exposed belly. Both were scanned and allowed passage.

  When it was Glia's turn, all she could offer was her work identification, hoping it would be sufficient.

  “Governing Body Defense Wing. Hmm.” The human enforcer leaned closer. “You must have a huge holotatt collection. I want to see it. Where do you have it on your body?”

  Glia told me that the enforcer reached toward her shirt collar as if to peer down inside.

  Just then, yells came from an adjacent station where someone was surrounded and accused of forging a tattoo. Glia stumbled away and did not look back.

  When she reached Prof's house, there was no response to her knock. The front door was unlocked and Glia was unprepared for the sight inside.

  The entire two-story, back wall of his house was a pile of rubble. A pink, slimy goo covered the debris. The upper floor of his house sagged at the outer edge, unsupported.

  Glia described seeing his bed dangle on the verge of falling into the backyard. Blankets had already slid off into soggy piles below. Prof's living room and his office were exposed to the elements. The desk and its contents were windblown and rain-saturated.

  The entire place was uninhabitable, calculated to look normal from the street.

  She told me how she switched from disbelief to hyper-clarity.

  Glia described that a year ago Prof insisted she and he have an emergency plan and now she understood why.

  Moving through the open air where the back door used to be and crawling across slimy, unstable mounds of rubble, Glia found her way to the far corner of the backyard which was unmolested. She pocketed a round, metal canister hidden underneath the largest flagstone.

  Then, on impulse, she broke off a branch from Prof's rosemary bush to take with her. Apparently, he always kept a sprig in his shirt pocket and when she would hug him, the rosemary scent permeated. Whenever she smells it, she's reminded of him.

  She ordered her feet to move away from his ex-house, taking a different direction in the hopes of avoiding the checkpoint. It turns out that every neighborhood exit and entry is monitored by enforcement.

  Standing in line, she shuffled forward like the others. When the human enforcer demanded that she exhibit her holotatt, again she held out her government id.

  “There’s already been one waiver logged against your profile.”

  The enforcer reached for Glia's arm. “Apologies, Defense Winger. It's a necessary formality. If you take a moment to register your holotatt status now, you'll breeze through all checkpoints for the next two months. Any bit of your collection will suffice.”

  Glia told the truth. “You will not detect any tattoos on this skin.”

  The enforcer smirked and nodded, leaning in to whisper, “Ah! So, the hypertattoo is close to public release?”

  Glia described to me how she stuttered and arranged her face to show complicit friendliness. “V-very.”

  “Let's hope the scanners for those buggers are smaller than these heavy things!” The enforcer stuck out a hip and pointed at the holster. “You ought to have enforcers on your payroll, cause we know how to get things done. Watch this!”

  The enforcer turned to the crowd and yelled, “Attention: every citizen! Feet on a white square...3,2,1.”

  Bars emerged perpendicularly from the walls. “Order is how we proceed here!”

  The enforcer gestured to the first ones in the chute. A guardian and a child approached.

  The enforcer asked, “Your child's age?”

  “Four years.”

  “Palm.” Glia described seeing the enforcer scan the child's hand then, smiling, say to the guardian, “The reading indicates six years of age. Exhibit your child's holotatt, please.”

  The guardian stammered, “He… he doesn’t have any.”

  “By age five, every child should receive the first cleanser.”

  The youngster panic-bolted and fell to the ground, twitching from the enforcer's zap.

  Glia says the child lay a meter from her feet as the enforcer leaned over and injected him, asking, “Rainbow or robot holotatt? Robot will do, huh.”

  The enforcer spoke to the guardian. “It's all fine, you know. This first one will allow him to forget this ever happened. You may pass.”

  The enforcer turned back to Glia. “I really like helping people and being part of the compassionate order. Make sure you report that we honor privacy. We don't scan anyone's brains, no no, not at all. We just encourage and verify that they are choosing to get themselves organized. We support society moving forward.”

  Glia backed away.

  The enforcer saluted. “Tell the big bosses that we're making freedom real!”

  I sound the bell.