"How do I know if they're worth the price?" she asked. "I don't even know if they were stolen, or if I traded them for something I thought was worth more at the time -- I'm fairly sure I didn't lose them gambling, because I don't feel like a gambling person, but I can't even be completely sure of that -- so you see my problem with the entire concept, right?"
"You've stated it with admirable clarity," said the person sitting on the other side of the glittering mosaic table, hands (...probably hands? though admittedly she didn't have many points of comparison anymore) folded neatly before a cloth-wrapped torso and underneath a toothy (...too toothy? not enough teeth? she kept losing track when she tried to count them) smile. "This is why the transaction is voluntary rather than compulsory -- I like to keep potential sources of regret to a minimum, so while I'm afraid I can't show you the contents of your memories without a down payment, the least I can do is ensure that you understand your options. This is also why the exact method of payment is entirely at your discretion, providing, of course, that it's of equivalent value -- one doesn't last long in business selling below market rate, you understand -- but whether you pay with time, emotions, senses, abilities, or any other item of worth is all one to me."
She pondered this information for a time, while the person with the cloth-wrapped torso and face sat patiently and without breathing. Then she said, "If I asked how you came to have possession of my memories, would you tell me or would that also require payment?"
The cloth-wrapped person's smile grew more teeth (or perhaps the teeth simply enlarged?) and the answer came quickly. "Neither; one doesn't last long in business by disclosing confidential details about one's sources and transactions."
"Which... could mean that you bought my memories from me, or bought them from someone else, or simply picked them up at the side of the road," she said, puzzling through the options. "I begin to see how you define clarity of statement. In that case, I believe I would like to purchase one memory -- specifically, the memory of how I came to lose or sell my memories -- in return for the memory of this conversation, and with the addendum that if we've been through this transaction before, the memory of trading a previous iteration of this conversation doesn't count as the sale or loss in question."
"Done," said the cloth-wrapped person, and reached across the mosaic table to press a finger (it must be a finger, because what else could it be?) to her forehead. As the world dissolved into laughter and the click-clack-clatter of falling tiles, Elise (her name was Elise! she'd traded her memories for a map... which she'd promptly lost, and had no idea why it had been important in the first place) could only think, That was too easy. How long until the catch?
Equivalent Exchange (original)
"You've stated it with admirable clarity," said the person sitting on the other side of the glittering mosaic table, hands (...probably hands? though admittedly she didn't have many points of comparison anymore) folded neatly before a cloth-wrapped torso and underneath a toothy (...too toothy? not enough teeth? she kept losing track when she tried to count them) smile. "This is why the transaction is voluntary rather than compulsory -- I like to keep potential sources of regret to a minimum, so while I'm afraid I can't show you the contents of your memories without a down payment, the least I can do is ensure that you understand your options. This is also why the exact method of payment is entirely at your discretion, providing, of course, that it's of equivalent value -- one doesn't last long in business selling below market rate, you understand -- but whether you pay with time, emotions, senses, abilities, or any other item of worth is all one to me."
She pondered this information for a time, while the person with the cloth-wrapped torso and face sat patiently and without breathing. Then she said, "If I asked how you came to have possession of my memories, would you tell me or would that also require payment?"
The cloth-wrapped person's smile grew more teeth (or perhaps the teeth simply enlarged?) and the answer came quickly. "Neither; one doesn't last long in business by disclosing confidential details about one's sources and transactions."
"Which... could mean that you bought my memories from me, or bought them from someone else, or simply picked them up at the side of the road," she said, puzzling through the options. "I begin to see how you define clarity of statement. In that case, I believe I would like to purchase one memory -- specifically, the memory of how I came to lose or sell my memories -- in return for the memory of this conversation, and with the addendum that if we've been through this transaction before, the memory of trading a previous iteration of this conversation doesn't count as the sale or loss in question."
"Done," said the cloth-wrapped person, and reached across the mosaic table to press a finger (it must be a finger, because what else could it be?) to her forehead. As the world dissolved into laughter and the click-clack-clatter of falling tiles, Elise (her name was Elise! she'd traded her memories for a map... which she'd promptly lost, and had no idea why it had been important in the first place) could only think, That was too easy. How long until the catch?