Shadow Traffic by Richard Burgin Page B

dealers?”
    â€œYou shouldn’t talk about the organization that way.”
    Wallace shrugged—a mirror image of his own shrug a few minutes ago. Wallace Mirror, Andrew thought. That should be his nickname. “What about Memo?” Andrew blurted more angrily than he wanted to. “Do you have doubts about Memo, too?”
    â€œMemo is a very powerful memory aid, no question. The question is, though, is it really ready for use by the general public? Is it really such a benefit to humanity or is it being rushed out before it’s actually been tested, just so certain people can profit from it?”
    â€œPeople
are
profiting from it
emotionally
, don’t you see that? Don’t you remember our last group testimony, how Elaine started crying while she described getting her memory back of the first rose she ever touched. What a moment of, of … priceless beauty for her. And there’ve been dozens of testimonies like that. You know that.”
    â€œThat was very touching, true, but not everyone reacts so positively to Memo.”
    â€œI haven’t heard of a single negative reaction in all the testimonies so far. I certainly haven’t had any.”
    â€œFair enough, but not everyone feels comfortable making that kind of confession in group. Many feel intimidated about confessing and frightened of the consequences if they really tell the truth. Some have even been actively discouraged from talking.”
    â€œHow would you know this? Can you give me even one example?”
    â€œDo you remember Jerome?”
    â€œHe stopped coming after the first two groups, didn’t he?”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œIs he even still a member?”
    â€œJerome had a very bad experience with Memo. It made him relive something extremely painful in his past—his father’s suicide. He’d blocked it out before but Memo removed that block.”
    â€œMaybe he can start to work on it now.”
    â€œJerome won’t be working on anything anymore. He hung himself last week. The memories were torturing him, filling him with unbearable guilt. He left a note about it. My information is that the organization made a big effort to keep it off of the Internet and largely succeeded.”
    Andrew felt his heartbeat again. “That’s a very serious allegation.”
    â€œIt’s not an allegation, it’s a fact. As I said, there was a note.”
    â€œIf you feel that way, how can you still be a member?”
    â€œThe truth is I’m not. I’ve resigned today in person and if you have any concern for your safety you will too. You look shocked, but are you really? I know they’ve probably got you on some special mission and maybe that’s to follow me, maybe even to stop me from quitting. I realize that my telling you this may be a fatal mistake, but I had to.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous. It was you who were following me and not the other way around.”
    â€œI’m just warning you my misguided friend,” he said, getting up from the table suddenly. “Just urging you to get out while you still can,” he added, before turning his back on Andrew.
    â€œHow can you talk that way about an organization that’s given so much to you … and to the world?”
    Wallace turned and looked at him.
    â€œI did it to warn you, like I said. You won’t see me again,” he said, turning once more and walking quickly down the stairs.

    Andrew had trouble sleeping that night. Of course he was thinking a lot about the charge he’d been given to join Oblivion, whose next meeting would be in two nights, but he also found it more difficult than he’d imagined to forget about his meeting with Wallace. Because he’d taken Memo he had an almost total recall of their conversation, which was both reassuring and disconcerting. After reviewing it he found a number of things that could undermine Wallace’s credibility besides