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5:00 p.m.

I discovered I have hyperthymesia on Friday, March 18, 2011, at 5:37 p.m.

For the past nine years, four months, and eleven days, only four people have known about my condition, which I’ve been calling

my power ever since Friday, March 18, 2011, at 5:44p.m., and the first person on my list, Dr. Angelica Knapp, told me that

some individuals with hyperthymesia don’t view this ability as a superpower. Those individuals weren’t ten years old like

I was. I’m not ten anymore, but calling this condition my power has stuck. Dr. Knapp was very kind, trustworthy, and took

this secret to the grave when she died on January 4, 2013.

The next two people on the list are my parents, obviously. Given how difficult it was to conceive me, they were blown away

to have a child so naturally gifted.

That night at dinner (mashed potatoes with white gravy, peas, mushrooms, and roasted radishes) my parents sat me down for our first talk about keeping my hyperthymesia discreet. They were concerned about the misconceptions of my power coming from the same source as Death-Cast’s, but now that we understood that my IQ score was born out of this ability, we wanted to be respectful to the other students by not accepting any honors determined by grades. It didn’t seem fair back then. I may have had advantages in history, science, and literature, but over the years, I was having to fact-check everything on the off chance my original sources were wrong. I also had unique challenges with abstract subjects like math since maintaining focus on the equation was difficult when my brain would get carried away with random details such as what the teacher was wearing on the day she taught those particular lessons.

As I got older and started working at Death-Cast, I began utilizing this power very effectively. I would take minutes for

all meetings, but I only ever wrote down the notes to keep people off my scent; I started using the dry-erase boards and tablets

because I hated how much paper was getting wasted for this charade.

When I was promoted to executive assistant on Wednesday, July 1, at 9:43 a.m., my father told me, “Your job is to know everything

possible.” He then patted my shoulder. “Until it’s time for you to know the once impossible.” This meant I was regularly on

secure lines and in private meetings with global leaders, acting as my father’s personal recording device of what was said

and by whom.

It also meant that for how confidential those communications were, there is still something holding my father back from telling me the Death-Cast secret. He claims he’s waiting until I’m older and wants to keep me safe, but this power has made me grow up faster and my life has been regularly threatened. There must be some other reason he isn’t telling me the family secret.

The last person on my list of trusted contacts is Ariana Donahue. I told her the secret on December 25, 2018, after making

snow angels in Central Park around 4:30 p.m. (I only don’t know the exact minute because I wasn’t looking at the time, but

I can tell you the sun was setting behind the bare trees.) Ariana envied my hyperthymesia because she would love the ability

to read play after play and instantly memorize all the lines, but otherwise she had fun testing my memory and was very honored

that I trusted her with this secret. I hope this holds true even though we aren’t friends anymore. If she told anyone, I imagine

it would’ve found its way to the press by now.

For nine years, four months, and eleven days, only my father, mother, Dr. Knapp, and Ariana have known this secret. Today

Paz is added to this small list.

Trust is so fragile, which is why after telling Paz about my hyperthymesia, I couldn’t bring myself to share my other secret

when he asked if I had anything else to tell him.

People have limits for how much they will forgive.