It's On the Tip of My Toungue

"You won’t be, not if I have anything to say about. Now, are you ready? Would you like something to bite down on, maybe a shot or two to make this sound like a better idea?"

"Umm, o-okay..." she said, her voice sounding higher.

"Well that’s always good to hear, no one likes bad days."

"Well of course they don't! Bad days are no fun."

emily osment

"That’s not especially likely, maybe a 20% chance. Possibly 30%. Probably not much higher than that. Honestly, if I were you I’d be more concerned about the probability that you’ll degenerate into a husk of a human being, walking through life without ever keeping a single detail in my head. That’s a 95% probability if you go untreated."

"A husk? Well I don't want to be a husk."

"Essentially, I’m going to create a set of concrete memories within my own brain, extract them, then… Crack open your mind like a cheap safe, and cram them inside with enough force to lodge them there forever. You might feel a slight pressure. Or your head could explode, I don’t know, I’ve never tried something like this before."

"EXPLODE?!"

"Well that’s okay, it happens. Anyway, how’s your day been?"

"It's uh, it's been... good," she assumed.