I don’t want to forget you, though! Luce thought, but she couldn’t say it. Instead she swung the mallet. It thudded down awkwardly, just grazing the side of the red button. Only two of the light bulbs flashed a feeble yellow before going out again. Again she glanced around. Now in place of the barker there was a fizzling, hissing, dead tree. The strip of tickets dangled from its naked branches, high up, and Luce could hear the moaning of seals.

“Do you think I can try again?” Luce asked nervously.

The tree didn’t answer, but the pink paper tickets gusted back and forth. Luce decided to take that as a yes, and she brought the mallet up. It almost flew out of her hands as if some unexpected force was aggressively tugging it skyward, and Luce jerked back. She was determined to keep her grip on the mallet, determined to bring it smashing down . . .

“Forget,” the lights winked. “Forget.” There was a clang as the mallet hurled down onto the button, and a chain of golden lights shot up. Just for an instant Luce saw two more words illuminated in the darkness far above her.

TO REMEMBER! the machine flashed out at her in scarlet letters. The letters glowed and vanished so quickly that they were hardly more than a momentary burn on Luce’s retinas, but she was sure she’d seen them. The park around her went black, engulfed by a swirl of midnight water, and Luce began to run frantically away. Cold water gripped her legs. She had to find her father before he drowned . . .

Luce woke panting. The sky was soft with amber dawn, and a pod of seals was playing in the waves just beyond her cove. She could see their sleek, brown bodies dipping and the curious gleam of black glass eyes watching her. One of them swam closer and snuffled gently at her tail.

“With you here,” the old, broken voice had told her, “the man forgets sometimes to remember.”

She finally knew what she had to do.

22

Being Human