Tuesday, he had told me. I'd kinda been hoping to be seen that day, but they are a busy place, and really, a few days isn't that long to wait. It wasn't as if I'd remember them anyway.
And so I've spent the last few days as if they were my last, because for all I know, they will be. I heard tales when I was younger, of people who'd been diagnosed with some terminal illness, going out and doing all sorts of mad things. I've not been like that, but I've been making sure I have no outstanding disputes with everyone I know, and taking time to enjoy what I can.
I acted like this because the procedure carries a fair degree of risk with it. It doesn't go wrong often, but I'm told that when it does go wrong, it does so severely. I know this, I've even signed a form saying I know this, and that I don't mind, that I accept that risk. Now I come to mention it, it doesn't make much sense having a consent slip for an operation which is illegal anyway, so I don't know why they bother doing it. I'll have to ask them that.
I know why I'm doing this, though. I didn't take time to savour so many discoveries, all those first experiences. I rushed through life, being blase about everything. Not paying attention, being familiar with things before I realised how good they were. I can't even remember the first time I heard my favourite band. And now, I'm older, wiser (at least supposedly), and dead bored. Nothing's feeling new.
Anyway, tomorrow, as scheduled, I'll be going down to the Clinic to get the preliminaries over with.
They did what they called "The Works" on me. I don't know what this is exactly, but they asked me to remember particular things whilst I was in medical scanner. I had to strip down to my underwear and lay inside this contraption. They then watched to see which bits of my brain lit up. I had to do various things for what seemed like an hour or two, from watching a film, to playing chess, to reading a book. When that was done, they got my list of memories and ran through it. I spent another hour in the machine, helping them "localise my memory engrams", which consisted of me remembering stuff on demand.
It's ironic I guess, but I don't remember exactly what was on my list, even though the actual forgetting isn't until later today. It's probably because I'm very tired. The one thing I recall, was that they finished by finding my memory of ice-cream. I didn't have many taste memories on the list, but I put ice-cream down as a little experiment.
I asked them about why they need my written consent, by the way. It turns out that if they get caught, the judge will look on them a leniently if all the paperwork is in order. Makes sense. They didn't like being reminded of their illegality, at any rate.
After the appointment, I went home, then out with my friends. I was determined to celebrate, although I wasn't quite sure whether I should find this it worthy of celebration.
The night is a blank, it must have been a good one. I eventually woke up at about midday, and am now writing this at about one. I am just about to go for my second appointment. The nerves are killing me, though. I've made a small pile of things to experience later today. I must remember to try not to rush through them.
Well. Where do I begin?
I just finished reading this diary. I now see why I wrote it. But I am getting ahead of myself. I will continue the story, as best I can, from where I left it.
I woke up after the procedure at about four in the afternoon. The surgeon was red. "We're sorry, so very sorry." she said.
"I don't understand - what are you sorry for? What am I doing here?" I replied.
"Yes, that's the problem." she said.
I nodded, aware that something was seriously wrong.
I went to forget. And so I have. I have forgotten everything.