Memory Master

“I can remember whatever I want, whenever I want?” Amanda asked.

The salesman nodded, patting the dome of the Memory Master. “Whatever you program.” He’d already explained the procedure twice, but he’d explain it a hundred more times if need be, to make a sale. Besides, he knew that the lady probably had understood what he’d said the first time. Usually, customers asked him to repeat the steps of the procedure several times for no other reason than to convince themselves--or to let him convince them--that it was a perfectly safe process. “You just input the date and the time period, in hours, minutes, and seconds, and, viola, you are there. It’s the next best thing to time travel. In fact, since time travel is fiction and the Memory Master is real, it’s better than time travel.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t let my teenagers use ours if it weren’t.”

“Wasn’t the Memory Master recalled not long ago, because--”

“There was a recall, a few years ago, more as a precaution than anything else. Seems there was a small problem with the synchronicity mechanism, but that’s all been fixed.”

“What’s this synchronicity mechanism?”

He shrugged. “It prevents memory diffusion.”

“Memory diffusion? What’s that?”

Forgetting the present-past as you revisit the past-past or vice-versa.”

Amanda didn’t like the sound of that. “I’d really like an owner’s manual,” she declared.

“Sorry, but, like I told you, owner’s manuals don’t come with the used models, not unless the previous owner includes it with the trade-in or we happen to have an extra one on hand.” He smiled his wide, nothing-to-worry-about salesman’s smile. “But you don’t need a manual for this baby. You could operate it in your sleep.”