Remembrance Tech’s tour group milled about. Servers wove smoothly between, offering golden, sparkling wines. The tour wouldn’t begin until the last drop was licked from their lips—but they didn’t know that.
While the wine did its work, Clio chatted with several clients, subtly priming.
Walk the facility, show off the memory extractors, storage options—a plash of something showy with nitrogen; the tech sold itself.
The clients sipped glasses of oblivion, signing away their memories, paying for the privilege.
Smiling, Clio tapped out a text.
Looking at her phone, Mnemosyne laughed. Rising, a new kind of Titan.
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