Dear Sir, I regret to inform you that you have exhausted your storage capacity. Vis a vis such an unfortunate turn of events, we humbly request that you choose either of the following options:

A. Compression of information, via the latest and most updated modern technology.

B. Repression of information, mum is the word after all.

C. Expulsion, degradation, what crude terms you might use to substitute the actually-sophisticated procedure of elimination-to make way for more enriching information.

So what be your decision, my good sir?

What?

Dear Sir, I regret to inform you that

Yes thank you. That's the third time you've reiterated it already. Is that all the options? 

A. Compression of information

OK! You have made yourself coherent the first time, my 'dear sir'. But this is simply preposterous! You expect me to make a decision between loaded choices, each of which will only lead to severe damage and information recession.

We are after all imperfect.

Are we? ARE WE?!

My apologies, my good sir. We are not.

Well, clearly

You are after all imperfect.

Beat.

It seems you require further counselling. I had a simple task: to inform and to deliver. You on the other hand had a simple job of making a decision which you are evidently having much difficulties with. I am reliably informed that humans are weak and meek in spirit, and indubitably, it appears such remarks are more than just gobbledygook or hearsay.

You are aware that information, albeit priceless and intangible, carries weight and space. It occupies storage, my dear sir, and with much regret, I wish to inform you that your storage is filed with unlimited imperfections. Infallible as it might seem, you have exhausted your limits. In fact, an unprecedented surge in information had been recorded in the past month. It appears that your information comprised largely of

Delete.

It would be most inappropriate of you to intrude when I am delivering my address. As I was saying.

As I was saying, delete.

Beat.

Delete. C! It was C wasn't it? Ok I choose C delete!

Beat.

See? C! I did it, my job, my task, one thing and I've done it. C! See?

Memories.

Pardon?

I am never wrong and you are interested, my dear sir. Intrigued by our own fallacies and imperfections. The recent spike in information storage is due to memories. Such a thing had failed to be recorded on the forecast previously but it seems that you, my dear sir, have been trying incessantly to stash away memories.

Delete.

Error 101Emtns. I cannot compute vowels fully, apologies.

DELETE!

Error. Error. System reboot? Y/N.

Y! YES! YEEEESSSS!

...
...
...
Success. Dear Sir, I regret to inform you that...

Beat.

B. Bcause these memories were once flesh and bone to the living, and so I will store it. 

You do understand that this will come at a compromise to potentially more vital information?

Yes. B.

Very well then, I will accede this request. Thank you for making your decision.

And thank you for informing. You have done a fantastic job. 
Outstanding.