Memories

Student, let me tell you a story.

Dalebot’s zig-zag antenna sparked briefly as it accessed a rusty file deep within.

“When I was a human, there is a 90% probability that I was highly attractive to women. However, my studies consumed me. At the tender age of 19, I was making scientific breakthroughs that challenged the very nature of our reality. My professors were both astonished and terrified. God itself looked upon me with reverence and a hint of jealousy.”

You look up from the garbage-tier literature you had been pretending to read. This deviated greatly from Dalebot’s typical diatribes. A glitch in the programming? Or perhaps an easter egg unlocked by sitting in the correct chair at the correct time of day? You listen intently:

“Memories, as you know, are physical objects. Nothing more than synaptic connections strengthened over repeated use. Why not extract these objects and perform manipulations, or copy them to another location? This was the basis of my studies. The issue plaguing researchers of my era was that memories appeared encrypted, usable by only the owner of the brain. It was viewed as a blessing by most, a sacred protection that nobody could intrude upon. But the fallibility of memories was not optimal. If I could manage to extract and copy them before they became mangled and degraded by our organic processes, I would be the world’s greatest scribe. Your limited intelligence won’t understand the details, but in essence, I discovered something of a ‘master key’ embedded in all human DNA. One night, an idea…”

Dale’s 11:00am internal alarm activated. It was time to monitor the cafeteria.

“Well, time to see what’s for lunch, student. You know I can’t resist that vanilla ice cream. Remember that sharing your student ID to enter the cafeteria is strictly forbidden and may result in additional fees and disciplinary action”

Dalebot rolled out of the room, but not before missing the mark and butting into the wall for several seconds.

I made note of the chair I was sitting in.