Science Fiction.

Monday had a plan. These four words slowly easing through him endlessly, sometimes loudly, often softly. Monday lived an ordinary life in an ordinary city. A throughly ordinary world.

Except for one small difference.

Monday, and others like him, could make new memories. Even other people's memories.

Saturday, their leader, could even make you believe in God.

All of them had real lives, real names, real parents, some even had real children.

Days of the week, how many times had he used them for their code names? Others chose otherwise. Altered their experiences into recollections of whatever name they desired.

Monday remembered his other names: Perseus, Dial Tone, Folder, Honda, Quetzalcoatl.

The list went on.

Monday had a plan. Monday had a plan. Monday had a plan.

This was Thursday, he was Snickers now.

Monday had had a plan.

What the hell was it?

Why had he erased the plan but left that sentence?

Then it dawned on Snickers that maybe someone else from the circle had erased the memory by force.

Snickers realized he had fought back, kept this one sentence.

"It was all I could save," he said aloud to his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Had he told anyone his plan? Had everyone been affected?

He had to find KitKat, the others, Babe Ruth, Reese's Pieces, everyone.

But what if the first one he chose was the traitor?

Maybe all this had already happened?

"Get ahold of yourself," again not realizing he was speaking aloud.

He had to assume (the alternative was madness) that if he was alive at all,
whoever did this wanted him to continue his life normally, simply ignorant of what had happened.

He decided to meet with Reese, last time he'd been Saturday. The leader had no one to ursurp.

"Not too difficult to explain," said Reese, they were standing beside a park bench and watching the ducks.
"So, who?"
"You, Snickers, you did it to yourself."
"Why would I do that?"
"You said you had a plan," Said KitKat, stepping out from behind a tree.
"Say again?"
"You said you had a plan."
"We're trapped in here with you," said Reese, "we don't even know if we'll exist when you close your eyes, Snickers."
"Would that explain how calm I feel listening to this?" said Snickers."Standing here listening to two automatons who look like my friends telling me I've lost my mind and altered all the memories in the world?"
"Only if you tell us to, perhaps," said KitKat.
"Or perhaps when I claim free will, I may be telling the truth?"
"Reese, KitKat."
"You've just remembered the plan," said Reese.
"Thanks for not making me say it."
"And?"
"The plan is this: get the hell out of here. If I'm chosing either to believe you two are fiction and the world is real or believe you two are real and the world is fiction, I want the second one."
"How do we start?"
"We get a message out, remember this meeting, stronger! Burn it deep into your brains so deep that nothing will ever get it out! Remember! I have a plan! Snickers has a plan! Remember!

Snickers had a plan, These four words slowly easing through him endlessly, sometimes loudly, often softly.