Trees Burning Silently in the Middle of the Forest

We all get a copy of a novel as a gag gift our first day here. You know, the one where firemen burned books. Amateurs.

We take care of people. Their bank accounts. Their birth certificates. The things they owned. Whatever they did in their jobs. The memories they left in the people around them. Everything they touched is scrubbed and rebuilt until all evidence they ever lived is deep in our files.

If their crime was truly heinous, we go further than that: we erase them from our records, and then we go to a nice room in the fourth floor of our building, the one with lots of plants, and we erase them, and what we did to them, from our memories.

And they never existed.

.finis.