Ford swallowed and shifted his weight. He felt wildly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had turned, and he didn't know what to do next. He flexed his hand, ran it through his hair, then rubbed his opposite arm — a series of gestures that came together to telegraph how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin at the moment.

"Is it happening to everyone else, or just us?" he asked, with a glance back towards the market. As soon as the question had left his mouth, though, he decided he didn't care; whatever magical thing was going on that had them trapped in the same ten minutes concerned him far less than the idea that it was all happening without his being aware of it. He could deal with it if he could still think through it — if he couldn't trust his thoughts and memories, he had nothing.

"Make me remember," he said desperately. "Do something to me I'll remember."

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