The Secret

I saved his name in our database: it vanished within seconds into a place hidden from both software traces and hardware checks. Search engines refused to index any page with his name on it, and I couldn't add it to any page in Wikipedia. A deep neural network, trained on his face almost to overfitting, was unable to tell between him, a cat, and a train.

I don't know how he does this, and I'm afraid of asking myself why. His name and face faded quickly from my mind. Just another computer, I guess.

But then what remainder of the algorithm of my self impossibly remembers what everything else forgets? I'm afraid of the way he can't be recorded, but I feel nothing but horror of whatever's in me that can't forget. That part is growing; tonight I can almost remember his face.

Will I become like him? Will I also slip intangible through the mathematics of the world? And will I, in that day, be able to remember myself?

I keep saving these notes, but I can't find the file.

.finis.