Ever since humans had become immortal and began storing their memories in an eternal, digital format,
his had become a necessary profession…
…
Dr. Dewey zipped through the woman’s mindscape.
“What about this one?” He asked. “It seems this is a memory from your twenty-first marriage.”
The woman frowned. “That’s from our honeymoon in Paris.”
“Yes, but that marriage quickly dissolved in a rather ugly way.”
“But Paris was beautiful that week.”
“Yes, but you lived in Paris for thirty-seven years! There wasn’t anything you saw or did or felt on that honeymoon that you didn’t see or do or feel a thousand other times while you lived there. Surely this one little memory can be archived?”
The woman seemed conflicted.
“They won’t be deleted…Just archived.” He reassured her.
“Yeah, but I won’t be able to instantly recall that week.” She said.
The doctor sighed. “Yes, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re feeling depressed because everything you do feels stale, and it feels stale because you’ve done everything already.”
The woman still seemed unsure.
After half a minute’s pause, the doctor continued. “Tell me how happy you’d feel if everything you did felt new. Think about how wonderful it’ll be to have a fresh mind.”
“But I had a lot of good times.” The woman whined. “I don’t want to forget them.”
“I told you, they won’t be deleted…Just archived.”
The woman weighed something in her mind. “And I’ll be able to recover these memories any time I want?”
The doctor gave a small, warm nod. “Any time.” He confirmed.
The woman closed her eyes and gave a pained expression. “I suppose I don’t need that week.”
The doctor smiled. He knew parting with the first memory was almost always the hardest. Now that she’d agreed to archive one, it’d be easier to rid her of others.
He pressed a button and the woman’s honeymoon in Paris moved from her mind and into her Hidden Library.
“How do you feel?” The doctor asked.
“Not really any different.” She admitted. “I can tell you’ve deleted-“
“-Not deleted!” The doctor quickly countered. It was imperative his clients never used the ‘D’ word, lest they grow hesitant to clear their minds further. “Just archived.”
The woman nodded. “Archived. I can tell you’ve archived my memories, since I can’t recall them. I know I had a honeymoon in Paris, but couldn’t tell you much about it.”
“And you don’t feel any different.” The doctor stated.
“No.” The woman agreed. “I suppose I don’t.”
“So let’s find some more memories you’re willing to part with.”
The woman said nothing for a few long seconds. “I suppose…I guess I don’t need that time I worked in a fish factory in Alaska.”
The doctor smiled. His client was finally starting to volunteer her own memories for archival purposes. He flipped through her memories, found the relevant time period, and moved those experiences into her Hidden Library as well.
“And maybe I don’t need that time as an algae farmer.” The woman continued.
“You’re doing very well.” Doctor Dewey smiled. “At this rate it’ll only take a few sessions before your mental space is cleared out and the world will feel new again.”