Why do the aliens visit us?

The fifteenth time! Yesterday night, while I was in the middle of a brainstorming in a lively discussion with myself trying to find the unifying formula of Physics, plop !, I was suddenly illuminated by a very powerful beam of light coming from above. Due to my extreme mental concentration, for a moment I was dumbfounded thinking that they had just awarded me the Nobel Prize in Physics. I even got up and bowed ... until I started to get up and realized that I was being abducted again by those damn aliens. With a swipe of my hand I grabbed my papers full of equations and then I found myself for the fourteenth time sitting in a barber chair surrounded by those macrocephalic little aliens with black bulging eyes. I heard the barber's scissors click in their thin hands and I shuddered. A stupid inertia prompted me to order the type of haircut I wanted: a serious and discreet cut as befits a scientist like me. That order of mine (emptied, with a part in the middle...) unleashed a huge hilarity among the aliens, which caused me a deep indignation. Scientists in general do not appreciate the sense of humor. The Universe does not joke!, as I usually say to my students. In a burst of self-love I waved in the air my papers full of equations and shouted that they were laughing at a reputable scientist who was looking for nothing less than the Theory of Everything. Then there was silence and immediately the laughter doubled. The aliens wallowed on the floor laughing with my growing indignation, when suddenly one of them wrote with his finger in the air a simple equation. There it was: the long-awaited formula of the Grand Unified Theory! Absorbed in its simplicity, I let myself go to the barber chair and do with my hair the worst stylistic atrocities. They showed me a mirror so that I could see the results of their work, and they burst out laughing again at the expense of my hair. But I heard them from afar, I was concentrating on the formula. I remember that they accompanied me to the exit, where for the first time they became serious and then I heard inside my head these words: "We regret having to erase from your memory the Theory of Everything". No! I protested. But what was I going to do? I was helpless, and I waited resigned to being injected with a serum for oblivion or something similar. But they just shook me a slap. When I woke up, I was in the middle of a field of wheat, where I realized with despair that the precious formula had disappeared without leaving a trace from my head of an iridescent blue.

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