The Forgetting Machine by Pete Hautman

fully functional.”
    â€œExcellent. Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”
    â€œVery good, sir.” Alfred motilated off toward the kitchen to make tea.
    â€œDad, we have a problem,” Billy said.
    â€œI’m sure Alfred will be fine,” Gilly said.
    â€œAlfred’s not the problem. It’s that tutor you hired for me.”
    â€œYou mean Ernie Rausch?”
    â€œYeah,” I jumped in. “He filled up Billy’s head with history, and now Billy doesn’t even remember me.”
    Gilly looked from Billy to me with a puzzled expression. “Billy doesn’t remember you?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œOh . . . umm . . . and who are you exactly?”
    Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â 
    That was when things went from irritating and weird to flat-out scary. Because it’s bad enough to be forgotten by your boyfriend. Boys, after all, are notorious for that sort of thing. But to be forgotten by everybody . . . TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!
    And, frankly, terrifying.
    â€œI’m GINGER !” I shrieked.
    Seriously, it was a shriek . Both Gilly and Billy jumped back in alarm.
    â€œOf course you are,” said Gilly in the sort of voice you might use to calm a suicide bomber.
    â€œI’m Ginger Crump ,” I said in a slightly more reasonable tone, “and you’ve known me for months.”
    â€œCrump,” Gilly said. “Do you belong to Royce and Amanda Crump?”
    â€œI don’t belong to anyone. They’re my parents.”
    â€œIt’s true,” Billy said. “She showed me selfies of us and everything, but my memory of her is gone, same as yours.”
    Alfred rolled up, carrying a tray with a porcelain cup balanced upon it. “Your tea, sir.”
    Gilly took the cup. I noticed his hand was shaking.
    Alfred pointed his sensor array at me. “Ms. Crump, would you care for a beverage?”
    At least the robot hadn’t forgotten me.
    â€œNo thank you, Alfred.”
    Gilly said, “Alfred, has Ms. Crump visited us before?”
    â€œOn eight occasions since I came online, sir.”
    â€œWas I present?”
    â€œYes, sir, on three of those occasions.”
    â€œSo it’s true,” Gilly touched the side of his chin with a long forefinger. “I am experiencing some form of selective amnesia. I wonder what else is missing.”
    â€œDo you remember when you were the Sasquatch of Flinkwater Park?”
    â€œCertainly . . . although I wasn’t a real Sasquatch.”
    â€œDid Mr. Rausch do some sort of memory thing to you?” I asked.
    â€œHe helped me remember the entire code sequence on the antigravity dro—” Gilly stopped talking abruptly and shot me a look.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “I know all about the secret antigravity drone you’re working on.”
    â€œYou do?” he said.
    â€œBilly told me.”
    â€œI did?” Billy said.
    â€œDon’t worry, you can trust me. I’ve known you since you were a Sasquatch.”
    Gilly nodded thoughtfully. “Alfred!” he said.
    â€œSir?”
    â€œGet Ernest Rausch on the phone, please.”
    Alfred buzzed and blinked. A few seconds later, Mr. Rausch’s voice issued from Alfred’s speaker.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œRausch, this is Gilbert Bates.”
    â€œOh! Hello, Mr. Bates,” said Mr. Rausch.
    â€œI’m having a little problem. I seem to have forgotten something.”
    â€œI can help! What is it you want to remember?”
    â€œIf I could remember what I don’t remember, I wouldn’t have a problem now, would I?”
    â€œOf course! I’m sure it’s a minor adjustment to your dynamic engram interface. Can you meet me at the neuroprosthetics lab? I can be there in half an hour.”
    â€œThe sooner the better,” Gilly said. “I’m on my way.”

14

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    Billy wanted to go, but Gilly told him to stay home.
    â€œLet me find out