"Once we had the security footage of the grocery store we could run automated algorithms to locate you in other footage from various other nearby stores and the occasional porch, and from that it was easy to triangulate your general area. As for your name, you used your Amazon paycard to pay for your groceries that day."

"...who do you even work for?"

"Have you ever run into this fictional wiki online called the SCP Foundation?"

He makes a face. "I've seen it. I don't like that kind of thing."

"We don't call ourselves the Foundation. We're the Unknown Organization. We label the anomalies we run into with the letter U rather than the acronym SCP. And our institutional moral compass is pointed in a much better direction. But the SCP Wiki itself is an Unknown, U-3171. We originally thought it was an internal leak, but it seems to simply have come to existence as a memetic entity that mirrors our system and database. Most entries on the SCP Wiki are not, actually, real, but some are, and despite our best efforts we have not been able to take the wiki or those entries down."

"If I read more of it would there be one about me?"

"There could be. We monitor new additions to the site in real time, and ones marked with the antimemetics tag get flagged with priority, but at least as of this morning it hadn't made it to your file."

"That's creepy. Antimemetics is the thing where people skip over me?"

"Yes. Ideas that hide themselves, and especially ideas that hide the hiding. For example—

"There's an entity, officially U-4987, but my husband and I call it Sunshine, because when it's hungry it manifests as a spot of light in the corner of my vision. It bonded to me over a decade ago, though I don't remember how. I've tamed it, because we don't have a way to contain it otherwise. It needs to eat memories to survive, but we have an understanding, and it only eats the memories I feed it. That day you and I met in the grocery store, I only walked in to have a short conversation with someone that I'd feed Sunshine. My conversation with you was meant to be that. I later reconstructed that Sunshine lost its memory of you just like I would have, and when it realised that it became distressed and consumed a different memory of mine, one I could notice was gone. That's how I realized something strange had happened that day."

"...is something eating people's memories of me??"

"I don't know. It's a possibility. Or it could be natural to you.

"There used to be a species of megafauna native to Polynesia that could not be normally directly perceived, though it is now believed to be extinct. As far as we know, its antimemetic properties were an inherent biological fact about them. Some humans also have an inherent genetic resistance to antimemetic effects. It maybe should not be surprising that some humans might have antimemetic properties themselves. But I was surprised anyway."

"It doesn't seem like an advantage. Especially for, like, when I was a baby, but I have a normal amount of not remembering that."

"Which points to the possibility that it really could be something that attached to you, or to your genes, sort of like a parasite. It might not be possible to get rid of it even if it turns out to be that, though. I don't want to get your hopes up too high."

"Could you get rid of yours if you wanted to?"

"No. We looked into it. We think it might die when I do, but it's more likely it will find a new host. We have contingencies for that."

"Why would you want to hire me? My thing isn't really useful."

"It could be. If you can remember yourself, you might have some natural resistance to antimemetic effects that extends beyond yourself, and that would be useful. And..."

"The Antimemetics Division is all trained to deal with antimemetic effects on a regular basis. Which means that, if nothing else, we have ways to bridge some of the gap in remembering you, even if we can't do it completely. I think it would do you good to have people who can have continuity of knowing you."

"It'd be cool if people could remember me," he allows. "But like - okay, my power isn't totally useless. But I'm not invisible. When I used it to get away with stuff as a kid it still sucked getting caught. I don't want a job that's like that all the time."

"Oh, we probably wouldn't deploy you against normal humans. We almost never deal with them. But memories of you were indigestible to Sunshine, so you might be able to similarly stump other antimemetic entities. It might also be possible to use your antimemetic properties as part of campaigns to eradicate memetic viruses, stopping their spread by associating them with you. 

"We won't know what, if anything, is possible, until we try."

"Oh.

"I bet you guys pay a lot better than the warehouse."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. We do."

Then she turns more serious. "Usually at this point I'd be warning you about the main side effect of working for the Division, but..." She spreads her hands. "You've lived with a worse version of it your whole life."

"I mean, I could imagine it getting worse?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't, not just from working with us. If and when you're ready to deal with anything more dangerous, you'll be warned of the dangers then and you won't be assigned to any missions whose risks you don't consent to." She can imagine a world where she's so strapped for resources she might want to force all hands on deck, but as things stand, they have enough people working on that they need worked on that they don't need to be that desperate. "But a normal person who works for us will face a weaker version of the antimemetic effects that affects you. People have a hard time remembering us or anything about us, and my boss needs to be on a regular dose of mnestics to even know that the Division exists."