THE MEMORY SPECIALIST

Shania Lee T. Cuerpo

It is a big opportunity for me to finally introduce the fruit of my hard work and labor to you
colleagues, seniors, and students in this very same institution where I started off my journey in
the field, or should I say, my journey to the human mind. It has taken us a thousand years since
the second millennium trying to philosophize the idea: How important is our memory? How
dependent is our memory? How can we erase them? At this point I humbly declare we now have
answers! We have become masters of our minds!

The crowd gave their applause and affirmations of Yes! and At last! drowning the whole
auditorium in their white laboratory gowns. Dr. Holmes steps aside from the microphone giving
himself an applause, too, as if this has been the biggest moment of his life.

The lanky Dr. Swift proceeds to the podium to monotonously announce, The National Biology
Incorporation would now like to award this Remarkable Discovery prize to Dr. Scott Holmes, for
his project and for being the worlds first and official Memory Specialist! He receives his prize,
shaking hands with all the board members, still accompanied by the audiences sincere support.

Just look at that grin, it makes me cringe. I bet its faked. Dr. Holmes? I never called him that but
now its the only way for me to address him, though not in an honoring way like these people do.
I clap my hands anyway. It is time. It is the best time. In my black trench coat, its a surprise no
one suspects. Maybe they thought Im a student who forgot her white gown. Theyre stupid that
way. Ill never be one of these people. Science started losing its purpose, trumping on human
history and morality. Memory Specialist? Well see.

As the event finished, everyone rushed out of the place seemingly with either a sense of renewed
inspiration or just sheer envy, enough to make them go back to their little worlds and workspaces
to waste time on another abomination. Pathetic scientists and god-wannabes. Im the only one left
in the parking lot, making sure he wont notice. I see him ride his car and I proceed to follow him
down the road. We reached the complex where his clinic is. I stayed in the car as I decided to check
through my mirrors if he has gone in already before I go for it.

The receptionist greets me with a plastered smile, its obviously a part of her job. Who truly enjoys
their job, anyway? She asked me, How may I help you? Did you set an appointment? I thought
I have to appear as if I have innocent business there so I smiled back saying, Oh, Im sorry I
didnt set an appointment with Dr. Holmes. Am I allowed as a walk-in, though?

She examined me closely, her mouth now pursed shut and straight, her eyes judging me from head
to toe, piercing through my soul as they land mine. Without ceasing to look at me straight in the
eye, she presses a button and commands through the speaker beside it, This is 101. Is 415
accepting 010s? She speaks her zeros as letter os. She listens in her ear piece for the reply. She
removes her finger from the button shes been pressing hardly for long. She stops and in her
deadpan expression, she tells me, Youre young. What a shame. Fourth floor, fifth room to the
left. Take the stairs and think twice while youre at it.
What a snob, but I took it as her friendly advice anyway. She looked disturbed and
concerned. Who would be happy about what they do, after all? I marked her in my mind. Snotty
receptionist: prisoner of this place, not an enemy.