Objects are disappearing: not the things themselves, although that is soon to follow, but the memory of them, the recognition and understanding of what they are and have been. Hats have vanished, along with ribbons, the ferry, small candies, musical instruments. When birds disappear, they fly off, and soon no one remembers that the skies were not always empty. Hardly anyone, anyway: some people are unable to forget, and for that they are hunted by the Memory Police. There’s totalitarianism and dystopia here, but also small acts of resistance—and one mournful survivor who will inherit what’s left when everything and everyone has been forgotten.