Finally the scientist reached a door marked “Pastification.” He put his thumb on a fingerprint reader on the wall. The pad lit up and a light scanned his finger. It blinked a rapid one-two-three, and the door slid open. Here we go, thought Naomi.
The next room was dark. Lights ran along the floor, illuminating a pathway. Booths filled the room, each big enough to seat a person. In each booth was a black screen with lurid green text. Keyboards sloped from the wall. As they got further into the room, the booths were filled with an eerie glow. It took a moment for Naomi to realize that white people sat in them, surrounded by TVs. They had paste tubes sticking out of their mouths.
“This is Pastification?” Naomi said to the scientist.
“Pastification Level Three,” he said. “Most patients forget this procedure. But you are obviously paste resistant, so you may have latent memories.”
Naomi, of course, did not have latent memories because she was not a white person. She played the part, though. “I don’t remember,” she said. Then she asked, “What are Pastification Levels One and Two?”
“A fine question,” said the scientist. “It is a shame I have to pastify you. I have begun to enjoy your questions.”