The spade cuts into the earth, a clean sharp cut that reveals the dirt under the grass. It’s soft, which is going to make this easier. It’s never that easy. How do they always forget that they are having holographic maps of their brains taken everyday? Well, or course, he knows the answer — the programming kicks in after the trigger of this act’s completion. He too will forget.
It erases the memory of the birth too, which is not the most pleasant thing. If he were going to be replaced and he were to know about the hatchery then he might do something to prevent its work. On some level he knows that his position on this will change when he is the one to be replaced.
He had tried to do the deed as quickly and painlessly as possible, but the version of him sat in the chair had turned around as if he sensed him. He had struggled. But he had not really been any kind of competition, which was to be expected, given that that body was in the process of breaking down. Maybe one day the sensors would detect the eradication of the problem and they would not suffer the breakdown and need replacement. How would that day feel, when the cut off point passed and the replacement was aborted in the tanks, and the hatchery was torched? He might know in the future; he might be the one.
Once the hole was dug and the body was in it, it seemed to take no time at all to bury the body. He lay the sod he had cut away with the spade. H e walked back to the shed and hung the spade on its hook. And his memory blanked, like it were severed by the clean sharp cut of the edge of a spade.