Silas was known in the underworld as the best "Snatcher"—a thief who could steal not gold or jewels, but specific memories directly from a person’s mind using a specialized, silver-plated device. He sold these stolen moments of joy, love, or triumph to the lonely and the desperate.
He was good at his job, precise and untroubled by guilt. Memories, he rationalized, were just ephemeral things that only existed in the mind anyway.
His latest mark was an elderly woman named Martha who lived in a small, neat apartment filled with plants. The client wanted a specific memory: the moment Martha decided to adopt her daughter. The price offered was exorbitant.
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He slipped into her apartment late Tuesday night. Martha was sleeping soundly, a gentle smile on her face. Silas attached the extraction device to her temple and activated it. The faint blue light of the machine hummed as he targeted the specific memory signature.
Suddenly, a wave of warmth hit him—the purest joy he’d ever felt. It wasn't the memory he was looking for; it was an overflow of her current happiness. The machine captured the memory of her simply sitting in her garden that afternoon, feeling the sun on her face and a profound sense of contentment with her life.
Silas froze. This woman had simple, gentle joys. Stealing anything from her felt monstrous. He was used to victims of greed and ambition, not quiet peace.
He deactivated the device. But the machine had already captured the simple, peaceful memory. He had to take it with him.
He returned to his dingy office and looked at the contained memory orb. He couldn’t sell this simple, beautiful moment to his usual clientele; they wouldn’t understand its value. He sat for hours, the orb glowing softly, its captured contentment filling his bleak office.
The next day, Silas did something unprecedented. He didn't sell the memory. Instead, he placed it in a blank orb and shipped it back to Martha with an anonymous note that read, "A little extra sunshine for your garden."
He quit the Snatching business that day. He took a job polishing brass on the docks, his pockets lighter, but the feeling of Martha’s simple sunshine lingering in his heart.
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