“But I am, very much. It’s everything I’ve dreamed.”

He gave me a knowing look. It was no use denying my distraction to him. “You take too much after me,” he said, hugging me with one arm, to the photographer’s delight. “But work will have to wait.”

When I smiled and hugged him back, our spectators cooed and offered us delighted applause.

On Monday, the Professor learned that the dowager had three memories to extract. They were all to be taken at once, three fond recollections from her years of being courted by her late husband, before time could destroy them. Camille told me that when the Professor expressed hesitation at taking three memories in such a short period, the dowager confessed what the couple had suspected that night at the hotel.

“It appears my father’s condition is becoming mine. Slowly, as yet, but. A fractured mind is not a concern, Professor, it appears to be an inevitability.”

“Then, if I may, would you not prefer to keep your happiest memories for as long as possible?”

“Legacy, Professor, is something my family has always held dear. Publicly, of course, you may simply refer to me as a trendsetter, if that will settle curiosity.” Camille said the Professor thought the dowager seemed prouder of that possibility than she cared to confess. “I will treasure these memories as long as I feel it’s safe to and then employ you discreetly. I want the children to be surprised.”

Of course the Professor said he’d do his very best to honor the dowager’s wishes. Chief among them was that the memories should be kept at the Vault, despite her means to care for them herself, because she intended one of them to go to each of her two daughters and only son. It was also because she hoped that by keeping them, the Professor might guarantee they could share my longevity. She’d seen ordinary Mems, of course, and knew one or two Sources who enjoyed entertaining with them. And while she enjoyed a good memory presentation as much as anyone, she felt entirely convinced that her Mems could be different. They could be like me. Certainly the Professor impressed upon her the fact that he could make no such guarantee and that he was entirely unsure why Dolores Extract No. 1 showed no signs of expiration, but life had taught the woman that all things were possible, as long as you made clear your reasonable desire.

I met them, the dowager’s Mems, on the second day of my recall to the Vault. They were referred to as the Keepsakes, and it seemed possible that the older woman had in fact made something extraordinary, though it wasn’t clear to what extent.